New Mercies

So Monday has worked its magic on me. I love a fresh start. Oh, none of that other stuff is gone, but somehow a new day gives a new perspective. God calls 'em new mercies, and I sure needed the ones I got today.

One of those mercies happened to be a counseling appointment. I love my counselor. Plus, there's something about words coming from an outsider that actually makes me feel like I have permission. For example, regarding the big thing weighing on my mind, she said "You don't have to decide that today, or even next week. Stop worrying about it. Let yourself be present and enjoy each day, and God will show you the answer eventually."

I knew that. I really did. There's just something about hearing her say it that gives me permission to believe it. Permission to tell the voices inside my head (the ones that say I have to solve everything NOW) to shut up.

Another new mercy was a conversation with my daughter. She's been a bit secretive about her feelings regarding our situation and at times it's just more than my heart can take, feeling like I can't reach my child and can't help her. But tonight, after counseling I couldn't even drive for a while. We sat in the car and I cried. Although I don't hide my sadness from my children, I also do my best to stay in control enough to communicate to them that I am still the adult and I can still take care of them. Tonight, I just cried. I think trusting my kids with my emotions sort of gave my girl permission to share her own. So just before she went to sleep, we had a really good talk. And you know what? I think she's ok. She's really going to be ok. THAT does this mommy's heart untold good.

Only thing missing was that cup of coffee at your house, Finch. Not to worry, though. I'll find my way around there in the very near future.

Deep breath.

I can do this.


Tomorrow, my son starts kindergarten. Milestones like this can be tough for me. They tend to bring on the loneliness. So I'm about to crash for the night, get some sleep, and trust that tomorrow will bring plenty of mercies to get me through.

I'm back to a truth. The very one that keeps me spilling out stuff onto a blog that should probably be left un-spilled. That truth is that people who follow Jesus don't have lives without pain. Jesus ain't afraid of pain, or of my mess, or of my real feelings. And contrary to popular belief, brand new mercies get doled out to girls who haven't put on their Sunday best in a real long time.

Tears and Tissues

Well... it's been a while. Been busy here lately. Plus, I got a cold that set me back a little. I'm on the mend, though.

Kids are starting school. And it's nice to get into the routine again, though I'm sad to say goodbye to a laid-back summer.

Blah blah blah...


Here's the truth:

I'm exhausted. And lonely. There is a huge matter on my mind and it's driving me crazy. I have no idea what to do, and I'm tired of thinking about it. I feel like everything's changing around me and everything in my life is up for grabs, and darnit, NOBODY is asking me what I want. (I wouldn't know what I wanted if they asked, but still...) Sometimes I'm sick of doing the right thing. Sometimes I'm sick of sucking it up and being the responsible one.

I'm sick of brokenness, sick of loose ends, sick of questions. I'm sick of grieving, sick of keeping it together, sick of discovering new layers of loss.

I'm sick of change, sick of trying, sick of dreaming dreams I'm afraid I have to let go of. I'm sick of trying to be who I thought I was supposed to be while wondering if that's really who I am at all. Maybe I was mistaken.

Know what else? I'm sick of tears that won't dry up, sick of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and sick of feeling guilty. And now....

I'm sick of telling you what I'm sick of. And I'm sure you're sick of reading all this sickness...

Here we are on the verge of another Monday (my favorite weekday) and I'm Miss Doom-and-Gloom. Anyone smarter than me might choose to keep this to herself. However, this is the edge, and this is real. And for me, and all the other women out there who get up every day and keep going even when they can't, this is just what it's like sometimes. Might as well be honest about it.

Tonight it's tears and tissues for me. And there's no two ways about it.

Big girls, janitors and old guys

I live with two of the most amazing people. Two profoundly different but equally delightful little creations, both slam full of brilliance and joy and fun.

My Mackenzie TOTALLY ROCKED her part in the children's musical Sunday. I was videotaping through tears as she was singing like an absolute pro, but more importantly she was singing lyrics that were incredibly applicable to her little life right now. Words like: "God will take care of me." and "Even through fiery trials, and even when I don't understand, God is taking care of me." I had a moment. You know the kind. A moment of stark realization. It hit me that my little girl is growing and blossoming, and though she faces things that are out of my control, God can and is speaking to her. My heart screamed out to God, asking Him to PLEASE let her soak in those words and TRUST that they are true.

I sent her off to camp this morning. She'll be spending three nights at camp with our church group. I held her tight when I said goodbye and my heart screamed again. I begged God to speak to her, show her stuff, and mend her heart in ways that I can't. So if you pray, send one up for my girl. Ask God to capture her heart this week, and ask Him to form a friendship with her that will see her through the pain we are in right now, and every pain she'll ever face.


And then there's my boy. He deals with things in his own way, too. For one thing, I never know what question is coming next. Here's the latest conversation of interest:

We are all three in the living room, watching Princess Diaries. Suddenly, a question springs forth...

Levi: "Mom, are you going to marry a different man now that daddy passed away?" (I have no idea where this came from.)
Me: "Uh... first of all your dad didn't pass away. When people say someone passed away, they mean that person died. And as you know, daddy isn't dead, he just moved away. And second, the answer is yes, after daddy and I are divorced, maybe one day I might marry another man. But I promise I'll talk to you about it first, and it won't be very soon."

Levi: "Oh... ok."

Silence for a while....

Levi: "Mommy?"

Me: "Yes?"

Levi: "Don't marry a janitor, OK?"

Me: "Ok... what's wrong with janitors?"

Levi: "Well, if you marry a janitor, we might have to go over and clean the church all the time." (In context of what my kids' dad's job has always been, this is perfectly logical. When your dad's a minister of music, you always go to church and you sing a lot, and your mom plays the piano and stuff. So if your mom married a janitor, well... that could be disastrous.)
Me: (trying unsuccessfully to stifle the giggles) "OK... I see. No janitors."

Silence for a while....

Levi: "Mommy?"

Me: "yes?"

Levi: "Also, don't marry an old guy, ok?"

My eyebrows shoot up.

Me: "Ok... well what's an old guy? Do you mean like Santa?"

Levi and Mackenzie: "You could marry Santa. Then we would have lots of toys, and move to the North Pole."

Levi: "But not other old guys."



And so, we have standards. No janitors and no old guys, with the exception made, of course, in case Santa ever became eligible again.


Of course, I had the serious heart to heart with them, about even if I ever married another man, they only have one daddy. And their dad will still be their dad no matter what, and no one else would make their dad unimportant.

But I'm still stifling the giggles over my five-year-old's dating rules. It's one of those single mom moments that you either laugh or cry. I had to laugh.

And now, I'm ready to sign off. It's just Levi and me tonight and I'm being treated to his rousing rendition of "Trading My Sorrows" sung by an action figure whose hands are perfectly poised for the motions. I'm afraid I gotta see this.

"Yes, yes, Lord, Amen."

Better

So I kept the caffeine to a minimum today, and I'm feeling lots better. I've actually welcomed the bone weariness that comes after a sleepless night, and I'm trusting it to bring me a full night of sleep this night. Sometimes its just delicious to snuggle down into my sheets and head off into my dreams.

Thankfully, my 24 hours of caffeine induced edginess did not result in a meltdown on anyone or anything like that. Excellent. That could have been ugly.

It's funny what God can say to a girl in the middle of the night, though, and we had quite a discussion this evening in LIVEChat about the "making guacamole" concept. We talked over how, when our plans or dreams are thwarted, do we learn to make guacamole with what we've been handed. How do we manage to appreciate the unexpected things that aren't what we had in mind? How do we leave room for God to send along the occasional smashed avocado so that He can treat us to some unplanned guacamole deliciousness?

It was good stuff.

Time to give in to the tired. G'night!

Caffeine and Smashed Avocadoes

Can't sleep.

Note to self: You cannot handle caffeine like you used to.

I'm still on a caffeine high from this morning, actually yesterday morning now. I've been taking in significantly fewer calories these days, and in a small attempt to take care of myself, I've taken to a cup of hot tea in the morning when I settle in at work. Nice and peaceful. But yesterday was dreary, and yesterday morning was definitely a coffee morning. So I trooped to the kitchen at work and got myself a big cup of deliciousness, strong and black. Drank it down and went back for another.

By lunchtime I was flying high. Shaking and running my mouth like an idiot. Singing along with every goofy song that came on the soft rock office radio. I'm sure Sheri, the poor soul who shares an office with me, was about ready to call the authorities by the time I actually got food in my stomach to soak up some of the hyper.

Only it didn't really work. I only felt shaky and hyper and nauseated.

Here it is 3:30 in the morning and I'm still feeling slightly nervous, definitely sleepless.

And so I write.

Here's a little single mom story for you:

Monday, after work I scooped up the kids from day camp and headed to Winn Dixie. Not my favorite place to be at 5:20pm. However, the absence of bread or milk or eggs or pretty much anything worth consumption at my house necessitated the trip. My friend's birthday was Monday, and was to be celebrated at a showing of Mamma Mia (FABULOUS movie, GO SEE IT!) at the movies, so I was on a mission to get some food, get the kids fed, and settle them in before I left them with a sitter.

I happened to pass by something wonderful in the produce section. An avocado sale!! Ten for ten dollars!!!! Heaven come down to earth, baby. And so I grabbed two of them. (I'm only one woman, and so while ten avocados was tempting, realistically two is as many as I could down in the next few days.) I then proceed to the limes. While I'm picking out a few limes, my son proudly shows me what he's able to do to my new avocado by either sitting or stomping on it. (Perhaps a combination move since he was riding in the cart and his official grocery store mission is to complete as much of the trip STANDING in the cart as possible, but that mission remains in a constant state of frustration due to my repeated commands to "Sit down!") I felt guilty putting back the smashed avocado, so I just grabbed another once I gave my son a good talking to about respecting the produce, and figured I'd take the hit and chunk the smashed one when we got home.

So we completed our grocery trip, with no more smashing incidents, and headed home where I put away groceries and made dinner for the kids. My own dinner plan was to treat myself to junk food at the movies, like a coke or a daquiri or something. However, I ran across the smashed avocado. Poor thing. I didn't have the heart to throw it out. And there happened to be a bag of tortilla chips on my countertop. So, in a moment of frugal inspiration, I sliced and scooped the injured avocado, grabbed the lime juice, salt, pressed a little clove of fresh garlic, diced a few grape tomatoes, shook in a few dashes of cumin, and VOILA'! GUACAMOLE, baby!!

By this time, my children had already downed their supper and were peacefully playing in their rooms. And so, in a rare moment of absolute bliss, I grabbed some tortilla chips, a Mich Ultra with Pomegranate and Raspberry (oh, yummy) and sat down with my redeemed avocado. I opened an issue of Glamour magazine (women's ministry research, of course) and spoiled myself for a few minutes. Yessss!

I forfeited the treat at the movies, since I'm pretty sure nothing could top that dinner. But the laughter with my girlfriends was treat enough and it was in abundance for all of us.

And so, what could have been a grumpity, exhausted evening after a harried trip to the grocery store with an overly zealous fruit-smashing five year old turned into one of the most pleasant evenings I've ever experienced. I hold out hope, you know, that God is somehow turning the smashed avocado that is my life into the most incredible guacamole. What can I say? He always gets through to me somehow, and if He has to use some avocado violence, so be it.

Ok, God. It's 4:30 am, and my heart is restless. Turn me into some guacamole, would Ya?

I still have two avocadoes left. And five Ultras. Add a crowd of people and we could have a regular miracle on our hands...

OK, OK, I know. Go to bed.

Iron Sharpens Iron

OK, so I've been thinking about what Greg said. (read his comments on my last post) See, as my neighbor, and one of my pastors and the awesome drummer who plays next to me for two rehearsals and two services every week, he has a bird's eye view of what I'm walking in, has walked through every bit of it with me, and therefore is the kind of brother that has every right to call me out when I'm losing sight of what it's all about. He's right. Just because my life is out of MY control, doesn't mean it's out of control. My life, even with all its craziness, all the pain, all the panic, all the different hats I wear, is absolutely, positively under the control of the God I trust. THAT is the very truth that enables a woman on the edge to embrace the edge, learn to live in it, and even flourish there.

That's what I love about God. Following Him means I experience all kinds of stuff that's WAY bigger than I can handle. Trusting Him means I open my life up to things that take HIS kind of power (the almighty kind). Is this easy? NO WAY. It's wild and crazy and messy, BUT... even with the pain... I wouldn't, couldn't live any other way.

I've been in some interesting conversations this week over my "religion." A Baptist is often outnumbered in this town. And I must admit, much has been done to tarnish the reputation of Christians. I often find myself embarrassed by the behavior of those who call themselves Christians. But in contrast with all the offenses, all the hurts, and all the horrible behavior I have witnessed among believers during my life, I'm pondering this evening the value of sharing the walk with other followers. When done right, relationships with other believers can be such a catalyst for living the redeemed life well. I'm living it right now.

There was a time when God called me, dared me to go out to the edge with Him. Remember it, Christy? Shaking inside, but giddy as a teenager, I went. Of course she remembers, because she witnessed it, even ushered it in. It was momentous, and she needed to be there. It wouldn't have happened without her. And here again, in front of all of bloggerdom, God used the words of a believer to apply a push back toward the edge. I needed Greg for that. He's earned every ounce of the respect I have for him, and I probably couldn't have heard those words from anyone else.

Which leads me to the thought that one of the riskiest, most potentially painful, and also most potentially beneficial parts of life is the way God has chosen to intertwine our already tangled lives with the lives of other imperfect human beings. Sounds like a potential explosion to me. And yet God has a way of making it supernatural. He also has a way of sending those amazing moments, just when I'm considering bagging the whole relating-to-other-people thing, to remind me why I do it and why I love it.

It's enough to make a girl happy, even when she just saw Vince Gill on a Fruit of the Loom commercial. Lord, have mercy.

Patient

Ever feel like God's being quiet? I'm there right now. I know He's SO involved with my life. I know He's in me, around me, everywhere. It's just one of those times, and all followers have them, when He chooses to let me wait in silence.

For the most part it's a comfortable silence. A companionable quiet between me and Him. It still requires patience. Our encounters consist of me asking a lot of questions and Him just listening. His silence tells me perhaps I'm not ready for the answers.

Sigh.


So while I'm waiting, I'm going ahead with something He put in my mind to do several weeks ago. Memorize Romans 8. Here are the first few verses. On my honor I'm typing them from memory. (NIV)

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For through Christ Jesus, the law of the spirit of life has set me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law was powerless to do in that it was weakened by the sinful nature, God did by sending his own son, in the likeness of sinful man, to be a sin offering. So He condemned sin in sinful man, so that the righteous requirements of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the sinful nature but according to the Spirit."

It's a comfort. Better than any security blanket I know. My world and my head are spinning out of control. God is choosing to give my waiting ability a workout. But His words are there, they are ever true, they are His love for me in black and white. This is why I had to stop with one tattoo. I'd cover myself with His words if I ever really got started. I'd be one of those people on some TV show...

Anyway. Time to start the day. If you see a crazy woman going around mumbling phrases from Romans under her breath... that's just me trying to be patient.

Battle of the sexes?

Fasten your seat belt. This one's a doozie!


Where are the good men? (I'm not talking necessarily about dating material here. Go with me...) I mean the warriors, the renegades. The REALLY great men. I only know a few of them. Like maybe three. And two of those wear Crocs, which is a serious problem in itself, but one for another blog another day. The other is my own father. Oh yeah, and my brother. That makes four.

I cannot BEGIN to explain to you how WEARY I am of guys who can't make a choice for themselves, can't determine their position and defend that position confidently. And then there are the others. You know the ones. The power hungry ones that think their boy-parts entitle them to some type of authority. They make decisions alright, but then feel it is their right to run over everyone else in the process.

Now, before you accuse me of man-hating, I'll have you know I adore men. I think they are fascinating, wonderful, incredible creatures. While I am egalitarian to the core, meaning I firmly believe in the equality of men and women before God and in every other way, I'm not stupid enough to think that because the sexes are equal, they are the same. They are very beautifully, wonderfully different. Thanks be to God.

As I'm moving from married to single, I'm sort of having to re-learn how to relate to men. It's frustrating. Some days I think if I have to spend one more minute of my life covering for a guy who has no idea what he is doing, I might simply explode. The egalitarian in me HATES that. I mean, if you're gonna do something, THEN DO IT for God's sake. Don't just stand there, waiting to make sure you will come out smelling like a rose. What kind of renegade is that?? None, that's what. And how is it possible for a female to embrace femininity if the fellas in the room are already cornering the market? GOOD GRIEF!!

I realize and will readily admit that my personality is ummm.... like 90 proof. It's strong. It can be intimidating to some. It's the best and the worst part of me. But it's me, and I don't apologize for that. As strong-willed as I am, I'm still a woman. And the woman in me hopes, wishes that the guys around me would get over being intimidated by a strong female or any female and just BE A MAN.

Man enough to respect a woman as his equal. Man enough to take care of a woman if she needs it, or to let a woman take care of him. Man enough to enjoy being a man. And man enough to let a woman be a woman.

See, what I think most guys don't realize is that women, even ones like me that have more assertive personalities, can't HELP but respond to a man who is confident in his own manhood. It's part of those wonderful differences. Because as strong as I am, (and if you'll forgive my saying so,) I know I'm strong. I'm parenting my children alone, supporting them and myself. I have three jobs. I have realized some of my dreams, had lots of them crushed, and I'm still dreaming. I've been humiliated and rejected more than once and I'm still living. My worst fears have come true and I'm still taking risks. I'm strong. But as strong as I am, I'm not a man.

I think there is womanly strong and manly strong. And I suppose what I find sorely lacking in my life at this moment is manly strong. My Daddy has it, so I know it's possible. But he's 1,000 miles away. I don't want or need a husband right now. I'm not talking about that. Just somehow it's more fun to be womanly strong when there is manly strong somewhere in the vicinity. There's room enough for both.

Oooo, I think I just let out a secret. I think I just told the world that the most incredible thing a man can do for a woman is be a man. Is that so difficult?

Evidently it is. So, why? Have we as women nagged and barked and whined until the men around us don't feel like they CAN be men? Have we expected men to be so much like us that we've lost the ability to let them be men? Have we, in the pursuit of making our equality a reality, lost confidence in the gift of womanhood, so much that we can't let men celebrate manhood?

Is it the church? I ask this because a lot of the men I know are church men. Have we somehow made it look like loving God isn't manly? I know that's not true, because my brother, one of the manliest men on earth, ever, loves God like crazy. But still maybe most guys feel they have to check their manhood at the church door. I wish they didn't. Especially for the sake of my son, I wish they didn't.

Is it society? Has the spirit of competition, the drive to get ahead in our society driven out our ability to celebrate the differences between men and women because we are too busy crushing anything that doesn't propagate our own agendas?

Is it me? I suppose experiencing the ultimate rejection has a way of causing me to question everything about who I am as a woman, and as I'm answering those questions, I'm also asking a lot of questions about men and what I hope for in a man.

Hmmmm... I know I can count on my girls to chime in on this one. Guys, consider this an invitation to contribute if you like.

Trying to Rest

Week one with kids at home is nearly complete. They are doing so well, it almost scares me. We only have a few weeks of summer left, and I intend to take advantage of that time and put in as much fun as I can. I'm on assignment from my counselor to rest and reduce my stress as much as possible, and I'm trying to do it.

Next week is VBS and (collective gasp) I'm doing nothing. If you don't know what VBS is, think a few hundred kids running around a church for a week and less than half that many exhausted adults making crafts with them, snacks for them, playing games with them, and teaching them stuff they need to know. Every good minister's wife does SOMETHING at VBS. Except I'm not a minister's wife anymore. I don't even know if my kids will go. (ANOTHER LOUD COLLECTIVE GASP) We will see. They spend all day away from me at church and already spend at least two of their normal weekday evenings there. We just might sit this one out.

Resting is harder than it seems. Sometimes it's just easier to do something than to explain a thousand times why you aren't doing it for a while. Resting your body when your mind and emotions are still ranting is nigh unto impossible. Dang, resting is work!! But it's necessary for me right now. And hopefully I'll get enough rest to be able to clearly evaluate some things in my life and my career.

Speaking of work, it's Friday. Now quickly becoming, like all the other working drones, my favorite day of the week. Ah well... better be on my restful way.

We're Home!

Hear that happy sigh? That's me with my lap and my arms full of kids again. I have never been so happy to see two pairs of blue eyes in my whole life. We spent some time with my mom and dad, then after they left for home, we stayed in the swimming pool and just had fun with each other. We meandered back home, of course completing the obligatory stop at Cracker Barrel on the way. We drove down our street with delighted squeals coming from the backseat. They were so glad to be home. And their mom was glad to have them home.

We piled in my bed and I slept better than I have in weeks. I feel like I've had a vacation. I suppose in a lot of ways, I have. But there's nothing like 2 days in Florida, hugs and encouragement from my mom and dad, a swimming pool, and holding my kids again to put the icing right on the cake. I'm back, I'm sunkissed (have to bring back as much of Florida as I can with me), and I'm ready for Monday. Ready for life.

YAY!

My kids are coming HOME!!!!! YESSSSS!

And so ends my odyssey of aloneness. I had absolutely no idea how much time, brain, and emotional space that children occupy in the life of a single parent. And a month of life without them has been wild indeed.

I've fought a lot of monsters this month. I've gone places emotionally I'm SO GLAD they weren't here to see me go. There have been points I would have been truly unable to handle them as I've sorted through some junk. Plus, seven months of single parenting and adjusting to full time work had me utterly exhausted. And so I've needed the rest. But I emerge several pounds lighter (it's amazing what panic attacks and time to take care of yourself will do for you. Panic attacks mean you can't eat, and taking care of yourself means you exercise and shave your legs and stuff), much more rested, and VERY READY to have my babies back with me where they belong.

I also emerge with a pocketful of delicious secrets. Somewhere along the way this month, even as I've suffered a lot inside, I've started to get the hang of letting go and having fun. I've tried a TON of things I had never tried before... and REALLY liked most of them. I'm becoming more... well... more ME. To hell with what everyone else thinks I should be, or even what I'VE always thought I should be. A clean slate and an open mind are in my possession and as Gloria Gaynor would put it,

I am what I am
I am my own special creation
So come take a look
Give me the hook or the ovation
Its my world
That I want to have a little pride in
My world
And its not a place I have to hide in
Lifes not worth a damn
Till you can say
I am what I am

I am what I am
I dont want praise I dont want pity
I bang my own drum
Some think its noise I think its pretty
And so what if I love each sparkle and each bangle
Why not try to see things from a different angle
Your life is a sham
Till you can shout out
I am what I am

I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses
I deal my own deck
Sometimes the aces sometimes the deuces
Its one life and theres no return and no deposit
One life so its time to open up your closet
Lifes not worth a damn till you can shout out
I am what I am

I am what I am

I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses
I deal my own deck sometimes the aces sometimes the deuces
Its one life and theres no return and no deposit
One life so its time to open up your closet
Lifes not worth a damn till you can shout out
I am what I am

Oh I am
Oh I am
I am, I am, I am good
I am, I am, I am strong
I am, I am, I am worthy
I am, I am, I belong


I totally love that song. It plays in my Saturn a lot.

Anyway... I'm off to my second job. (Did you know I have three jobs? Not including motherhood and head of household? I realized that with a start the other day. Then I smacked myself in the head for wondering why I can't keep it all together.) So I'm signing off for now, and the next time you hear from me, I'll most likely be in the throes of transitioning my kids back home.

Here we go!!!!

Nothing Broken

Last night I took myself for a walk. Normally, I'm not that into exercise, but the truth is, it's a great outlet for pent up energy and emotion. So I walked up on the levee and along the river for a while.

God totally treated His girl to a gorgeous sunset. I found an awesome spot, and since the river is so high right now, the water is coming up under the trees. Looks like you could just put in a boat, push off and float a while. Of course, you can't because on the other side of the trees there is plenty of industrial shipping going on. But at that one spot I could imagine the river wasn't totally taken over by progress. So I sat there and let the darkness fall. Just me, God, and the changing of the light.

I walked home in the dark, and was surprised that I wasn't afraid at all, and had mostly stopped balking at the idea of going on that walk alone. I have never had this much time alone with myself. Ever. It's hard! I'm my own worst critic, and often not very nice to myself. Me and myself are having to learn to get along. But good news, I think we're getting there. We have a lot in common :) It's hard to get rejected and not feel like there's something inherently screwed up about yourself. It's hard not to take the "what's wrong with me?" train of thought. But I think I'm ready to give that ticket away.

I was reading and came across the words "Nothing missing. Nothing broken." They were written in reference to who we are because of God's grace and mercy. If I look past all the missing and broken pieces of my life, I can see that my reality as a child of God is that nothing is missing, nothing broken. He has it all. Therefore, it is ok to give a genuine smile to the mirror and learn to have a good time with myself.

And so I begin a fresh, new day. With nothing missing.


Nothing broken.

OK, here it is. Right here in black and white... and pink.

I'm scared.


I am scared out of my ever-lovin' mind.


What is going to happen to me? How can I raise these kids by myself? What about my writing? What about speaking? What about me? What if I can't do this? What if I lose my mind? What if I make wrong choices? This is too big for me! I can't handle being alone. I can't keep running wounded. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't do this!!!!


Just a little glimpse into what my insides scream at me while

I

AM

DOING

THIS....


Yup. Scared outta my mind. And doing this thing anyway.

One Giant Leap

Guess what I did today?

Drum roll, please.....





I mowed my own yard. For the first time. Ever. In my whole life. (Quit laughing)

My mom and dad are old school, which meant yard work was for boys and kitchen work was for girls. This rendered me, I'm sure, WAY more helpless in the outdoors than my father intended. He did his best at the hunting camp, but with my nose in a book, I'm afraid I didn't even learn to shoot.

But today. Today, I put on my lucky camouflage baseball cap that says "dixie darlin's" on it. The benevolent group of saints I hang around with has been taking care of my yard for eight months now. It was time for me to get going and learn to do this for myself. The one next door with the especially large halo gave me a lesson on how to start the mower, and then left me to it. And I did it.

Note to self: Don't do that again on an empty stomach. And don't let three weeks go by before I do that again.

All in all, a success. I mowed my way to a little more wholeness. World domination can't be far away now.

P.S. THANK YOU, whoever sprayed Roundup along my fence and the sides of the house. An ANGEL, you are.

Unmarked

Hmmm... I haven't forgotten you, blogger world. I've just... Well, I've just been feeling too crappy to really muster up anything good.

Had some fun, made some secrets. Started having some anxiety attacks. Which, of course, makes me angry to no end, because my body should be coping with this better than it is. My mind should be coping better. Then again, maybe this IS coping.

Dragged myself up to church Wednesday night and choked through LIVEChat. Nothing like a few understanding girlfriends to bring out the emotion in ya. So I came home and had a good cry. A REALLY good one. Loud. And the attacks have subsided quite a bit.

Good news, I've lost 4 pounds this week!

And I've made a decision. It's time. Time to own it. Me, all by myself, can be fun and feminine and fabulous. Time to see what that's like. Time to laugh and enjoy being me. Time to make some more discoveries along this road. Discoveries that perhaps, without heartache, I would never have made.

My counselor told me something. She said I'm doing great, progressing along very well. Only thing is, this is just plain going to be really painful. It's going to take a while and it's going to be bad. That's it. Time to accept it, buckle down, and trudge on through. It's going to be a long way. But I've decided if I'm stuck making an ominous journey, well... I'm leaving my fairy dust all over the place. I'm going to find sparkle and fun if I have to create it from nothing, and there will be colorful graffiti all along this dark path. I won't leave it unmarked. The next poor soul that journeys along this way will look around at the colors I left behind and read:

Rebecca Jeffries WUZ HERE!

Now where was that spray paint can?

Answer

I have only achieved answer to one of my questions.

It's yes. Absolutely, unequivocally, lock stock and barrel, YES I am going crazy.

See ya'll when you get there.

Questions

It's late again. Or early. But blogging is fun, and it helps me relax. So as much for my benefit as your own, here are some questions I've been pondering. Perhaps every female ponders more than she should, but I've always got a regular cyclone of questions swirling in my brain.

Am I going crazy?
What's my next move?
Perhaps I should contemplate staying still for a while?
Am I really doing this? Am I really?
Why is it hard for people to accept that God would choose suffering for them?
Am I going crazy?
Will affection starvation produce emotional malnutrition?
Why are relationships and disappointment next door neighbors?
Why haven't I appreciated solitude for the bliss that it is?
Why havent' I appreciated companionship for the bliss that it is?
Why is the right way usually the hardest way?
Am I going crazy?
Where is the line between single-and-don't-you-wish-you-could-be-me and single-and-overdoing-it-to-try-to-convince-myself-I'm-still-lovable?
Can I be fulfilled and still keenly feel what's missing?
Can anyone be more blessed than me? Is it possible?
Am I going crazy?

I'm pretty sure I AM going crazy. But I don't mind. And as for the other questions, I suppose God'll tell me when I'm ready to know. Though, if He happens to tell you, please forward the information immediately via comment.

G'night!

Today's Blessings

Savoring these moments:

Girl talk. Uncensored.
Blueberry wine
Laughing til it hurt
Fresh mozzarella
Lunch with a friend
Creole Grape Tomatoes
Neighbors who are family
Holding a tiny baby
Tiny baby sleeping smiles
My son's voice on the phone
Making an old lady giggle
Listening to someone's pain
Telling someone a secret
Laughing some more til it hurt
Happy voices in my house
Flowers
Flirting
Cookie dough. Raw.

All these blessings poured upon me in one day. What more could a girl want?

Midnight Musings

Can't sleep. It's really late, or early I guess. It's just me and the Brady Bunch up at this hour.

Lemme get this straight... The girls are hers, the boys are his, but the girls call him dad and the boys call her mom, and everyone's last name is Brady. Maybe I'm mistaken, but my research tells me step families aren't quite that simple. Though I suppose I should have immediately realized the fantastic nature of the show when Alice served all the kids plain oatmeal for breakfast and they all ate it, no questions asked, no sugar added. Not even any fruit.

Greg Brady hasn't changed a bit. Isn't he on some reality show? Or maybe that's Peter.

I have news. I got a pedicure. The best pedicure, ever, to be specific. It was awesome. I had a friend on either side of me, we laughed and had a fabulous time and behaved like regular queens of the world. There was coffee involved, hot towels and this tingly stuff. Amazing.

Mike Brady is a chauvinist. Get a life, Carol.

Oooo, Jay Leno is up too. He shouldn't have men with big hair and skinny jeans on his show. Or any show, for that matter. I thought he was retiring or something.

Oh, I learned something today. Or yesterday. Epoch:a significant event, time, or moment which is chosen as a new origin for time measurements. Epic is just the poem. Please consider this a retraction of past improper uses of the word epic where epoch clearly should have been.

Epoch. That's happening to me right now. A moment chosen as a new origin for time measurements. A new day, I suppose. That would mean that I've just completed an epoch battle with my grief. I won.

Alarm'll be going off soon. Perhaps I should attempt some shut-eye.

The Road Out

Smell the smoke? I've made it out alive. I was carried most of the way, I have to admit.

The road out was beautiful. There was a majestic storm. The sky cracked open a few times and God yelled right along with me about my pain. Then he used a preacher to tell me some pretty amazing stuff. (Check out Romans 8) I cried and cried and cried. I tried to be quiet but it didn't work too good. I suppose when God of the Universe is making collossal adjustments inside you there should be some sound.

Then there were friends. Family, really. And the storm gave way to sun and breeze and food and laughter. Deep, shuddering breath. A corner has been rounded.

There will be aftershocks, I'm sure. But I've taken an honest look at the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I've listed every subsequent "ripple effect" that I now cope with. It's all out there. My counselor will be proud.

Healing is hard. The hike to hell was exhausting. But the scenery on the way back was unforgettable. I'm still here. And I'm still me. Only a little stronger, a little smarter, and a little closer to whole.

Hell

This is hell. Pure and unadulterated (pun intended). I'm here alone. I wouldn't ask anyone to go here with me. Only One accompanies me here.

An exercise of counseling homework and several pages of journaling, plus one maddening phone call got me here. It was time anyway, I suppose. Pain must be faced and felt before it can be forgiven and freed. So I hope in the knowledge that this is the last time I will feel such things at this person's hand, and that every disgusting step through this mire is a step closer to healing.

I'm weary of fighting and have plopped down in the midst of sorrow I've been to busy surviving to pay much attention to. I know life goes on. I want it to, especially for you. And eventually for me. But not tonight.

Psalm 139:8 If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

Quacky

Saturday, I spent a peaceful afternoon in DeFuniak Springs, Florida. Once my mom and dad got on the road with the kids, I met two dear friends for lunch. Keith and Vicki Andrews. I wish I could tell you, or could have expressed to them, how much it helped to be with them a while. They're just... well... wonderful. And when I left them I felt peaceful and in my heart felt ready to tackle these two weeks alone. Their company and conversation just set an easy pace for my "vacation at home." Plus, while I was with them I enjoyed a fried green tomato sandwich. Why would anyone live anywhere but the south when we have such inexplicable pleasures as fried green tomato sandwiches?

Then I sat out over the springs for a while, in the gazebo. Taking deep breaths of fresh air and listening for God. As I was listening, I saw a duck. Not just any duck. A single mother. I suppose all ducks are single moms. I mean, I've never seen a daddy duck with a trail of little fuzzy peepers behind him. Then again, I'm no scientist, nor am I an animal lover, so what do I know? Still, I'm choosing to think she was single. She had five ducklings. I named her Daria.

Daria (don't you LOVE that name? It's not at all frumpy or overworked single mother sounding.) was working like nothing I've ever seen! Spring water, in case you haven't had the pleasure of seeing, is very clear and wonderful. So I could see with no problem Daria's webbed feet going nearly as fast as any boat propeller would, as she swam this way and that, trying to corral her brood. She worked and huffed (well, there wasn't actually audible huffing, but trust me...) her way out to the middle, and I must say she had an unruly bunch of ducklings. Finally, in exasperation, she put her beak in the air and swam away. As if to say "Fine, then." And what had once been a loosey-goosey (pardon the pun) group of kids was at once right behind her. Not in a little duckling line, but in a clump almost directly underneath her tail, almost as if they were an extension of her. Clearly, these kids knew they better swim to it, or else.

Poor Daria. No rest for the weary. As I watched her speedy little webbed feet swimming like nobody's business, and then her little ducklings clumped all up in her space, I felt her pain. Of course, I was listening this whole time for God. And He pointed out how much I was like my friend, Daria Duck. He pointed out all the paddling I'm doing, paddling double time it seems just to get through ordinary days. He pointed out the heavy weight of navigating life's pond for me and two ducklings all on our own, and how sometimes being needed so much feels like my ducklings are superglued to me. And He raised a question: "What do you think that duck would be doing if she had no ducklings to corral?" I tried to picture her kicking back, relaxing, hanging out at the water's edge trying to pick up a guy duck. I imagined she might preen her feathers or wander around on the land for a while. But in the end, I had to admit that I've no idea at all what mother ducks do when they aren't laying eggs and mothering baby ducks. I couldn't imagine her going from all that frenzied activity to some kind of laid back ducky schedule, with nothing to do but sit around and soak her webby feet in the warm end of the pond. She's just not supposed to do that.

I felt as unnatural as Daria would have felt, had she suddenly been offered a duck-sitter or something. I suppose God wanted to get me thinking about how the next days will be strange and unfamiliar territory. I suppose He wanted me to admit that I'd have to let Him show me a thing or two about being a mother duck on hiatus.

Kinda quacky, huh? I know. So far I'm not doing that great. At letting Him show me, I mean. I've had some fun. Had a wonderful afternoon Sunday acting like a regular Queen of Sheba with nowhere to be, just whiling away hours in conversation with a friend who wasn't willing to let me wallow. Monday after work, I went shopping, which yielded some super-cute stuff and I APPRECIATED the quiet way I strolled around the store unnoticed and uninterrupted by squabbling, or trips to the potty. I didn't hurry. And on the way home I rented some movies. Something I almost never do for myself alone. I walked in Blockbuster and picked up stuff I wanted, with no care for whether it was appropriate for little ears and eyes. But truth be told, inside I've been slipping.

It's like I'm in the movie Twister. I don't really remember much about that movie, except the way the freakish tornadoes would just pick up everything. I feel like I'm holding on for dear life, trying not to get swept away into the swirling blackness. Blackness that I fear might be depression. I'm not sure whether to keep holding on, or to let go and give in to the storm and see where it carries me. I'm fighting the urge to retreat from the world. I find myself sitting at my desk at work wishing I could crawl under. I guess I'm scared that if I let a person know what it feels like inside me, they might get sucked into the storm too. Or worse, they might think what a baby I am and wonder why I can't just move on. I wonder that myself lots of times.

So, I'm here. I'm struggling. God's with me. That's the most wonderful, wonderful thing. He hasn't left for a single second. He isn't scared of my pain. He isn't the least bit squeamish. And He isn't freaked out. He told me that by sending Daria Duck. Sure, I might feel like my life right now is all wrong, totally against what nature intended for me. I might not have the slightest clue what I am without all my mother duck duties. I might be terrified of a million things.

But He hasn't even flinched yet. And He isn't embarrassed to be seen with a needy, unsure, duck-out-of-water like me, even if He has to speak duck to get through to me.

So now, where does one go to get webbed feet pedicures? I was thinking Daria might want to come along.

So... My babies went to Florida this past weekend. No easy thing at all. They are having a blast, which is a profound comfort to me. Their absence also makes my situation much more real and tangible. So I'll be spending two weeks facing some giants on my own. It's Tuesday and I'm still not sure I've made it out of the exhaustion fog. But here are a couple of my first steps toward rested and relaxed.


I spent a couple of hours on this gazebo, out over Defuniak Springs.



Are we relaxed yet? Gettin' there...


And of course I went wadin' a little. What else is a girl to do when she has no one to be responsible for but herself?

Oh yeah. She gets one of her favorite books on cd and listens to that book as she meanders home WITHOUT getting on an interstate. She shuts off her phone. She cries and laughs out loud. At the same time.

And slowly, she works up the courage to face God about her worst pain. Still workin on that one.

A Poem

Ok, so I know I just posted, but I got carried away with the idea of God's secrets. I started reflecting on the secret moments I've had with Him and well... a poem came out. This is strange, and I thought it post-worthy because I haven't written a poem in a long time. A really long time. So, in keeping with what I've already told you about my commitment to transparency, here's the most transparent thing I can show you about what goes on between me and God. Beyond this.... well...
It's a secret. :)


Secrets

God, You place secrets in me.
And there they remain, though I am ablaze with the fire they fuel in my bones.
They are holy mysteries.
Silent, searing truths.
Though I ache to express them, they are locked away.
The volume of loudest shout or eloquence of most historical oration cannot free them.
I abandon my attempts, and know...
These secrets are mine alone.

They are the cords that entwine my heart with Yours.
They are the one and only place in all time and space that You and I converge,
Making moments that have never been before and will never be again.
They are pieces of Your Infinite Self stored inside me.
These secrets will be kept because they cannot be told.

Shine, wordless secrets!
Glisten and gleam and cause me to run again and again
To your Teller.



Colossians 1:27b "...And this is the secret: Christ lives in you. This gives you assurance of sharing his glory."

Got Secrets?

"A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets." -a quote by Old Rose in the movie Titanic.

I'm a difficult person to embarrass. My trademark is being transparent and real and unafraid to acknowledge the truth about how I feel. I've pretty much always thought anything worth knowing is worth announcing to whomever would listen to me. Which works fine since my entire adult life has been spent in ministry where ever'body is in my bidness. Just the way I like it. So secrets aren't something I've thought a lot about. Until now.

I was raised to be "clean-livin'." And clean livin' just don't go well with secrets, honey. The word secret brings to mind sordid, embarrassing, or passionate moments that happen in the dark. Until now.

They say that major crises have a way of forcing us to reevaluate everything in our lives. Such is true for me. A major piece of my life's bedrock has been removed and so everything else's place is changing and rearranging. My priorities, my values, my reality... everything is shifting. And so, as my new life's picture is coming into focus, I'm getting to take a second look at lots of things I thought I had already formed an opinion about. Secrets happen to be included on the list of those things. How true that a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets. Even mine, miss blab-it-all-out-to-the-world. Even my heart holds layer after deep layer of soft, whispering secrets. Secrets even I hadn't known. Until now.

I once thought secrets synonymous with skeletons in the closet. And in a way, they are. Only a small way, though. The real stuff of secrets are the deep, precious, holy, sacred moments of life. Moments too valuable to be described in words. Truths too priceless to be cheapened by language. Experiences I love too much to share with someone who might not appreciate or grasp their profundity.

I didn't know it, but God has been sharing secrets with me for a long time. As I look back, He and I have built quite a history of inexpressible secrets. Moments of profound life-change or truth-revealing are tucked away inside my heart. They are secrets He has told me. Then there are the secrets I've created. Some of them written on pages I've burned, some of them lived out on beaches at night, some of them whispered in tearful or breathless moments. They are the things that turn up the corners of my mouth in a Mona Lisa smile when I think of them. And then there are those skeleton secrets. Those things that make me shake my head or want to smack myself. And yet, even in the secrets of the dark, scary, mistake variety, I find truths that are precious, lessons that are invaluable, and a depth of relationship with the God who knows ALL the secrets and is still crazy about me.

Perhaps I've been too busy, perhaps I've been afraid, or perhaps the idea that there are secrets inside me that no one may want to share is too painful. Whatever the reason, I've ignored quite a treasure of precious, holy secrets that exist in the deep ocean of my own heart. Until now.

I'm beginning to realize that a foundational part of a woman's mystique, my mystique, is secrets. Joyous, hopeful, deep, passionate, dark, intimate, profound, inexpressible secrets swirl inside me, inside every woman. They are the glimmer you catch, the sparkle that passes so quickly you wonder if you really saw it. They are the quiet smile, the peaceful knowing, the motivational reason. And they've had too little a place in my life. Until now.

I can see your own Mona Lisa smile. You're thinking of your secrets, aren't you? I hope so. For me, and maybe for you, too, now is the time. Time to treasure, appreciate, reflect, and enjoy the gifts that need not be shared with anyone. The moments that are yours alone to cherish, or yours to reveal.

The secret, my friend, is SECRETS! I had it all along and didn't know.

Until now.

A Start

Alright, so I've come to a conclusion. I am experiencing emotional gridlock. A traffic jam of cosmic proportions. Not only have the past few weeks been ridiculously busy, they've been full of one major emotional event after another. At this point my heart looks like one of those traffic problems you hear about on the radio traffic report when they advise you to "just take another route."

So I'm pretty sure it'll take a few weeks to process it all. But, a girl's gotta start somewhere. So here are a few things I'm learning:

-My five year old son is a great wedding date.

-My ten year old daughter is one of the wisest people I know.

-Single parents should get extra vacation time, extra sick days, and designated parking spaces. I'm very sure I had no idea what a single parent goes through until now that I AM one.

-Right now I hurt. I wish it would stop. However, as a very smart friend reminds me, "microwave food isn't that good." This pain won't be wasted, and it won't be forever, and it will make me into more than microwave food.

-Sometimes grief sneaks up on you. Sometimes when you are at someone's wedding you want to scream and cry out your pain. And sometimes you tell the grief to come back later. You tell it "Not today. Today I will celebrate with people I love." And then you let your tears just be happy ones.

-I must learn how to let go of perfection. It doesn't exist. In the words of my ten year old daughter, "You're still a good mom. You don't have to be perfect."

-I used to want to be everyone's friend. I'm working on that. Not everyone merits the time and emotional effort it takes to have a deep friendship. Not everyone has to love me, or even like me. It's time the completeness with which God loves me is enough. Enough for me to be ok with who He made me, with or without anyone's approval.

-Witnessing the beginning of a life is... well, that's life! Everyone should attend a birth at least once in his or her lifetime.

So that's a start... Now if only emotional traffic jams came with cute traffic cops to sort them out. :)

Sleep on it

OK, well.... We made it.

Think I'm still a little high on adrenaline. Ah well, I suppose it'll take a few days to get in a good routine. But we'll get there.

I thought of attempting a recap of the last seven days, but the words escape me right now. There must be some deep and wonderful things I've learned over the past week. There must.

Hmmmm....


Maybe if I sleep on it.

Almost There

Wedding done, kids in bed, just have tomorrow morning's services to go and week from hell is over. After I return Levi's tux, mandatory nap day will begin. I will, along with my children, have a delicious, luxurious Sunday afternoon nap.

So with no small amount of tears, no small amount of laughter, and no small amount of effort.

I'm...


Almost...


THERE!

The Fine Line

Had I truly stopped to grasp what this week would entail, I probably would have run screaming. As it is, I've missed my chance. And so here I am, caught in the current of the crazy, with nothing to do but try to get a breath every once in a while. Perhaps next week, or the next, I'll descend from these white rapids into some stiller waters.

Know what I need? I need some handy helpers. Mickey Mouse has 'em. They're in his clubhouse. They do everything, all the cooking, cleaning, even answer the door for him. Whenever he needs something, a hand pops outta the wall and does it for him. Where is the justice in this? A rich bachelor mouse (you ever seen a ring on Minnie's finger?) has handy helpers, and a single mom who's bustin' her behind gets cramps and burned-out light bulbs and closet doors that fall off.

There are so many strong emotions vying for my attention right now. Many of them inflated by stress and fatigue, I'll admit. And so for now, they will have to wait their turn. Already this week, I've attended a baby's birth and helped with her first latch-on. (Nursing moms know what this is, and how stressful it can be.) I've moved a married couple in at work. I've attended a musical and a K4 graduation with my kids, easy for most people but this is my first time attending all of the end of school events alone. Well, not truly alone. My Riverside fam was with me, even had one of em at the school graduation. But you know what I mean. Alone as in not attached. I've gotten Mackenzie to her last dance class before the big show, and found her a pair of shoes for this weekend's wedding. Still to go, I've got to pull off Wednesday night, finish the work week that includes another move-in, get my hair cut and Levi's hair cut, learn a song, throw an inappropriate party, play for said wedding and hope Levi pulls off ring bearing duties. I also need to write some material for a denominational committee I'm on, answer about a hundred emails, and clean my toilets. So emotions will have to take a number.

That's the thing about emotions, though. Stubborn, spoiled little things. Sometimes they simply refuse to wait their turn. That's when you cry like an idiot at K4 graduations, and then spend half an hour in your car in the parking lot REALLY crying. That's when you hope and pray people aren't nice to you because you might start blubbering at their tenderness. That's when you hope and pray people aren't mean to you because you might start blubbering at their meanness. That's when you sit in church and all you can pray is "Please take me away. I don't care where. Just away. Now."

Ah well. I'll just have to keep my tissues handy, hang on for dear life and keep on going. I sneak those "away" moments in with God wherever I can. I keep moving forward, trying to enjoy every moment. I keep my emotions in line and give myself grace when I can't. And I'm my own handy helper... or handy hindrance. Or both.

In case any of you are doing some type of psychological study project, I'm confident you could really use this blog as a case study. It could be called "The Fine Line Between Victorious Living and Utter Insanity."

Walkin' it every day, baby.

Two Thumbs Up

If you haven't seen Prince Caspian yet, well... you should have. I'm not even sorry that I'm about to ruin part of it for you...


The kids and I finished reading the book and then we saw the movie. Much Hollywood artistic license was taken, of course. But it was still AWESOME! There was one moment in the movie that was most incredibly profound for me.

Throughout the story, Lucy, the youngest of the four Pevensie children, sees Aslan, the Great Lion and knows she is to follow Him. The other children don't really see him, though, and she is outvoted. So the group continues on the opposite direction, much to their disadvantage.

Things get bad. Real bad. Battle is fierce and dangerous. And no one knows where Aslan is. There is little hope. As a last ditch effort, the older three Pevensies send Lucy on a desperate search, for Aslan of course.

As the battle rages, Lucy finds the Great Lion and they talk. Expecting Him to commiserate with her frustration that the others didn't believe her, Lucy is surprised when Aslan asks her "Why did you not follow me alone?"

Then, in a shining moment, the two opposing sides meet at the river Rush. The only hope for Narnia now is Aslan. The Telmarine (enemy) warriors stop short at the river's edge, seeing a little girl on the other side. Standing silent, but strong, yet alone against an entire army, Lucy simply pulls her small dagger out of its sheath. (As if the entire army were no match for her tiny dagger.) A moment of questioning silence lingers, and then He appears. Aslan stands at her side. He roars His majestic roar and the enemy is no match for Him.

Sad, sad, sad thing is that many people will watch this film and not understand what C.S. Lewis meant to tell when he wrote the story. But, never one to read too little symbolism into anything, I am totally caught up in the symbols of the Narnian stories.

You see, I am Lucy. So are you. And sometimes, Aslan (Jesus) our Great Lion asks us to follow Him. Even alone. Sometimes He asks us to face odds that are impossible. Sometimes the people we love can't see Him. Sometimes we go the wrong way because we are too afraid to follow Him alone.

And sometimes... We stand facing an army with only a little dagger. Sometimes we have to look fear in the face and pull our pitiful dagger bravely, and wait for His roar.

DO YOU LOVE IT??? I do!!

I may be only one woman. I may be standing alone. I may face grief and despair and ugliness. I may look more like a pitiful little girl when compared to my fears and my circumstances.

But I lock eyes with my enemy, my dagger in my hand. Because a Lion stands next to me. And He roars. And He was all I ever needed in the first place.


Finally, money well-spent at the movies. Perhaps I'm too dramatic, or perhaps I've romanticized it a bit too much...

Nah!!!! I've been a queen of Narnia way too long to have misinterpreted this one.


GO SEE THE MOVIE, for Heaven's sake!

Past the Foam

Never one to let go of a thought that might be "something," I've continued to ponder the whole "who am I?" thing. I've concluded that there are many words that could be used to describe me, my traits, my idiosyncrasies, my upbringing, my aspirations. But the essence of who I am really boils down to very few things, foundational things that give way to the many other complicated layers of me.

I think we are all that way. There are a few things that must be established about who we are. Once that foundation is laid, it must constantly be referred to as a check point for additions or subtractions or decisions made about the many other layers of who we are.

Here's what I mean: When I got down to the bare essentials, I discovered there are just a few things about who I am that REALLY matter. Those things, if I know what they are and base my decisions on them, will determine all the other stuff for me.

So who am I?

I am HIS. I am totally redeemed, loved, forgiven, accepted, and taken care of by God. I, first and foremost, belong to Him. I am covered in grace, and absolutely right with God. I'm His girl, and that's the way it will always be.

I am a woman. I have my own unique blend of beauty and femininity (with a pretty generous dose of spice thrown in.) Though my particular brand of female-ness is of the strong-willed variety, I still approach my world with a very female perspective.

I am irreversibly, frighteningly, passionately determined to follow God's call for me. I love that He has called me, dared me to go on an adventure with Him, and I will accept nothing less.

That's it.


That very basic information IS the perspective from which I perform my duties as mother, minister, friend, writer, employee, daughter, sister, whatever. That information, when I let myself realize it, stand on it, and rely on it, is all I need to know. It's all anyone needs to know.

I think all this time, I've been working backwards. Starting with the layers and layers of stuff that is part of me, I get distracted and forget what IS me. Sorta like drinking a cappucino but never getting past the foam.

Whew! I got a little wobbly there. Started questioning who I am based on other people and their reaction to me. But good thing! It got me thinking and asking questions and eventually got me past the foam.

It's good to know who I am. It's good to be who I am. Same goes for you, you know. It's good for you to know and be who you are. And I, for one, hope you get right down to the very depths of your cappucino. Way past the foam and all the way down to where the flavor syrup settles and makes a puddle of sweetness on the bottom of the cup. There's just something steady and sure and secure at the bottom of the cup, down there past the foam.

Preoccupation

Ever feel distracted? Like something's amiss but you can't place just what it is?

That was me today. The first thing that clued me in was when I was standing at the counter in Wendy's and tried to swipe somebody else's order. I caught myself before my hand was actually IN the bag so thankfully tragedy was averted. We got our food (the food that was REALLY ours) and sat down. We ate and I managed to get a few coherent sentences out to my friend, Carrie, in spite of about a gazillion interruptions: "MOM, he hit me!" "Mommy, can I have a milkshake? A swirly chocolate one?" "Mama, guess what?" "I'm done, Mom, can I have a milkshake now?" To which I answered a gazillion Mom-answers, like "Stopit!" "Get up off the floor, please!" "Please sit down. All the way." "I need you to eat two more pieces of chicken."

After such a peaceful dining experience, I took Levi to the bathroom. We walked in, did our thing, washed our hands, and on the way out I noticed something strange. There was a urinal on the wall! I hadn't seen it on my way in. For a split second, I thought "Wow, I've never seen a urinal in a women's restroom before." Then reality hit. I WASN'T in the women's restroom!!! THAT was my second clue that I may be a bit preoccupied. Thanks be to God we were in New Orleans East, which is still not very heavily populated, and so we were the only people in the bathroom throughout our bathroom experience.

We laughed our heads off, the kids, Carrie and me.

But on the way home, I started thinking. (Dangerous, I know.) Thinking how funny it is that all the bumbling I had done on the outside seems to reflect how I feel inside. Or maybe all the outward goofiness has to do with what's going on inside me. Maybe the staring into space, forgetfulness, and general preoccupation are parallelling my inner attempt to right myself. To figure out who I am and where I fit these days. Guess I've been thinking about that a lot the last few days. Perhaps a wierd holiday like Mother's Day brought on the out-of-place feelings. Or perhaps it's the change I've observed in how others see me and how they treat me sometimes, the unsure way they approach relationships with me. (And you thought I didn't notice...) Or maybe it's a change inside. A change in how I view myself.

So now I'm alone in my room. Just me and Jesus. And here's the thing... He doesn't care how many dumb mistakes I make. He doesn't care who rejects me or befriends me, or why. He doesn't care how many times I swing back and forth between adolescent insecurity and mature grown up confidence. And some way, He will sort all this out in me. He will show me who I am.


And hopefully keep me out of the boys bathroom.

Lucky Mom

In honor of mother's day, please enjoy this original composition by my 10 year old daughter, written to me--her very lucky mom:


Moms are cool
Moms rule
Moms like to chill out in the pool
But you are the best mom I have ever met
You are as good as moms ever get.

It's your job to love and care
And it's our job to give you gray hair!

by Mackenzie Hughes

Never take a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night

NO I didn't try it. That's a chapter title out of Karen Linamen's book "Due to Rising Energy Costs, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been Turned Off." I've read several of Karen's books and always enjoyed them. I picked up this one and was interested to find that she is also a single mom of two. Like me!

Anyway, this chapter was profound. I know you are dying to know how I got anything profound out of that title, so stay with me.

In the midst of pain, a bad situation, or grief of any kind. It's not unusual for people to reach for something completely wrong as a solution, even if a temporary solution, to ease the pain. Now, I'VE never done this, but SOME people might, finding themselves hurting and rejected and alone, pick up a bag of Double Stuf Oreos and consume nearly all of it. How bout THAT for a pick-me-up? Except it doesn't pick me, um... I mean that person whoever they might be, up. It only makes things worse. It's as silly as taking a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night.

That's crazy. But we do it all the time. Instead of facing the pain, dealing with the grief, or walking the hard road, we often create a whole new problem as a diversion. Except then we find ourselves with pain multiplied instead of pain lessened. Why? Why do we do this to ourselves?

I have a couple of theories.

One comes out of the same chapter in Karen's book. There is a subtitle that says, "Please don't hurt me... let ME do it." I have to wonder if sometimes our propensity for those quick, yet devastating distractions from our pain stems from some deep assumption that we'll never amount to anything better anyway. So why not have that drink or two to take the edge off? Who cares anymore, anyway? Why not eat myself into a sugar coma? I don't deserve to be healthy anyway. Truth be told, it's HARD to take the high road. And it takes some amount of self esteem and determination to demand nothing less than God's best for myself.

The other theory is that we don't exercise faith. Now, don't go thinking I'm a name it and claim it girl. No way. My God isn't an order taker at a heavenly drive thru window. He's so much bigger than that. I wouldn't be caught dead saying that someone's painful circumstance is due to a lack of faith on his or her part. Hear me out... today I read in Psalm 105:19 "Until the time came to fulfill his dreams, the Lord tested Joseph's character." This verse is referencing Joseph's experience (start in Genesis 37 and read through the end of the book if you aren't familiar) with the time he spent in slavery and prison, before he was snatched out of prison, appointed as VP of Egypt and recognized for the amazing guy he was. During his prison and slavery years, God tested his character.

I can identify. I feel as though there are dreams out there. I can even see some of them on the horizon. But right now, I'm in the holding cell of character testing. Can I trust God the same in the dark as I can in the light? Can I remain committed and faithful to Him and to what He has called me to be, even when sometimes I'd like to forget the character test and just take the easy way out for Pete's sake?

Well, perhaps I can. But in order to do so, I must get out my faith, dust it off, and put it into play in my life. I must put it on, wear it, use it. If faith is the substance of things I hope for, then I must practice that faith by living as though the dreams I hope for are reality. For example, if I truly believe that full time ministry (a dream God and I have) is coming for me one day, then I don't have time to get addicted to anything, even something that seems to mask my pain. Problem is, when that quick fix is calling, and the dream fades into the background, it takes actual usage of my faith in order to maintain the character needed to stay on the track. It's one thing to say I have faith, sing about it, or study on it; but another thing entirely to PRACTICE it.

I totally stink at the game of tennis. I once tried to play it and I was horrible. It's one thing to know the game, read about it, watch it on TV, try on cute little white skirts or whatever. But actually getting out there to play is a totally different matter. I don't want to play nearly as badly as I want to stand around looking too cute in a little white skirt-y thing, with Reeboks at the end of my lovely tanned legs. (Are you cracking up yet?) To play you have to run around and sweat. You might miss the ball and make a fool of yourself. Not anywhere near as glamorous, right?

Same goes for my faith. I think I often create unhealthy diversions to mask the pain of my problems because I am too scared to get out there on the court of my faith and take the risk of running around and sweating and maybe missing a shot or two. It's hard to live in the substance of things I hope for. It's much easier to live in a tangible, even if unhealthy, solution of my own making.

But what if I could do it? What if I got out there on the court of faith, and won the game? What if I ran around, got sweaty, missed a shot or two, but stayed in the game and actually won? IT WOULD BE WORTH IT, that's what!!! It would be worth it to come out victorious with character intact, making my Father God proud. Loving Him back for all I'm worth by LIVING like I BELIEVE Him.

Whew! This post is getting long. Perhaps I should have made it a series. Or perhaps I'm not making any sense to you at all. But hey... at least you'll think twice before reaching for the Milk of Magnesia AND the Tylenol PM.

Nothin'

I got nothin'. I've been sitting here bonding with my rocking chair, laptop warming up my lap, fingers poised over the keys....

and I got nothin'.

It's not that nothing is happening or has happened. There is more going on in my heart and in my mind and in my life than I can begin to tell you. I'm not sure if I'm too tired or too stressed or too overwhelmed, but I just can't bring myself to write coherently on any of the hundred things I'd like to tell you about.

But guess what? I know what to do. I know where to go. I know just what my heart needs. So if you'll excuse me, I'm off with my nothin' for some time with my Everything. (That'd be God.) He knows just what to do with nothin'. Made a whole world out of it, as a matter of fact. No tellin' what He might do with this...

Winnie the Pooh Wisdom

Trying to convince Tigger to stick around when he wants to quit, Darby (character in Disney's new Winnie the Pooh cartoon) says "We'd be lost without you!" Pooh adds, "Which would mean we would have to find ourselves, ourselves. That might be difficult with just the two of us."

I swear I wasn't looking for a profound moment when this came along and I'll take the risk of a few giggles at this, but I got chills at Pooh's words. I gotta say, I'm quite the Pooh Bear myself at times, bumbling through life trying to make sense of things I don't have enough brain to comprehend.

But thank God, I don't have to find myself, myself. By SomeOne bigger, smarter, greater than me, I've been so very, very found. I just get to play and live and eat all the honey I want. Much friendlier this way, don't you agree?

Tricks n Treats

Anyone who has navigated the waters of divorce and single parenthood knows... or anyone who has dealth with grief of any kind knows...

There are definitely some tricks to the trade of handling life after major loss. I'm picking up on a few of them.

Trick #1: Get over yourself and ask for help.

Today, I swallowed my pride, called a friend and squeaked out "I could really use a break." I ignored everything in me that screamed if I were a better mother I wouldn't feel this way, or I shouldn't be interrupting someone else's day, or what if my friends get tired of helping me. I also ignored the voice of failure that reminded me I'm not good enough and that asking for help means I'm weak. My friend took my kids for a couple of hours and I got the break I needed.

Trick #2: Get over your fear and let other people in.

Today was Sunday. Always a day of intensity and emotion for me. But today was a hard day. I have a whole family of people around me who care about me a lot. Still I can fool most of 'em if I want to. I have a brave face when I need to use it. But there are a few who know that my brave face is BS and they see right through it. Today I let the tears fall in front of one of them. When she asked how I was, I knew lying was futile and so I didn't even try. I let her in and I let her see the yuck inside my heart. I told her how sad I was and I told her why. I needed her and it scares me to need anyone but God. But I let myself need her anyway.

Trick #3: Get out your pen and take notes.

Sometimes things are flying at me so fast. Really important things I want to remember. My journal is filling up faster these days. I don't want to forget the profound things God is teaching me. I don't want to forget the dark places and how He is with me here. I also don't want to forget to pay the electricity bill. For a thousand things, I need a list. It helps me to write. From a practical to do list to a scrawled out emotion, to a dreamy wish list, my pen and my keyboard bring release.

As is His way with His favorite girl, God lavishes me with treats. Friday, I got to have the most fun conversation with my daughter. Yesterday, He treated me to a deliciously rainy day, which I quietly spent in the house with my kids. Today, He treated me to a visit with an old friend who was passing through town, a walk in the rain with my babies, a cup of cafe au lait, and two and a half hours spent alone, mostly in a bookstore. I am learning to savor even the littlest treat, to open every moment as the gift it is.

I suppose, in a way, that's another trick. The trick of treats. Recognizing, appreciating, and enjoying even the tiniest of treats. And... now I must practice what I preach. There is a new book and a warm bed waiting for me. The house is quiet. Rain is falling outside. I'd say my treat basket is full.

Lullaby for a Single Mom

Utterly exhausted, eyes drooping, she finally did it. She opened her hands and let it all go. She left laundry on the couch, and toys on the floor. She bathed her kids and put them to bed. Early.

She walked through the quiet house, turning off every light. And as she went, she let Him go with her. She let Him take the thoughts, the fears, and the frustrations off her shoulders. He held her very tender, very tired heart in His hands and sang a silent song over her...

And she slept.

Today

I wore a dress today. A cute little cotton number with tiny pink flowers all over it. Not normally my speed, I admit. But even if I AM on the verge of world domination, I'm still all woman. :) So a dress, I wore. And I liked it.

I laughed today. Mostly at my crazy self and my crazy friends. I laughed at home when my son said "Yes Lordy!" I laughed at work when my friend put on "I Feel Good" during the afternoon slump, and when an impromptu dance was done to "Shout." I laughed at church during LIVEChat. I always laugh during LIVEChat. And I liked it.

I stood alone with God today. Sure there were other people in the room. A whole choir in fact. But He and I were really alone, and I blessed His name, I sang Him a song. I let Him give me life. And I liked it.

I drank today. It was one of those HUGE sweet teas from McDonalds. Drank the whole thing down, with plenty of ice. And I liked it.

I wondered today. I wondered how long until I feel normal again. I wondered why my new mascara clumped like that and if the clump WAS the extreme lash. I wondered if I was going to pass out. I wondered if I should take some kind of medicine for that passing out feeling. I wondered if I let my toenail polish dry long enough last night, and if this no-chip nail color really wouldn't chip. I wondered why some people are ok with mediocrity and what would happen to me if I was.

I hoped today. I hoped the piece of chocolate cake I ate at dinner wouldn't make me fat. I hoped my kids come out ok and hoped they know I love them. I hoped God still gives me a career in ministry. I hoped I someday love again, and I hoped I take everything I'm learning now and love better because of it. I hoped I could get through the day. I hoped I will sleep well tonight. I hoped to see a friend I hadn't seen in a week, for no reason other than her presence is comforting. I hoped for a vacation. Alone. At the beach. I hoped. And I liked it.

I loved today. I loved my little boy when he was afraid. I wrapped my arms around him and loved him as best I could and cried because it wasn't enough. I loved my girl when she climbed into my lap and when she just WAS her sweet self. I felt deep, painful, heart's about to burst kind of love for those kids. And I liked it.

I thought today. I thought about my life and about my loss. I thought about my dreams and about what would happen if I said what I REALLY wanted to say to a grouchy caller at work. I thought about my kids and my mom. I thought about my future and my past. I told some people what I thought, and kept some of my thought to myself. And I liked it.

Just a regular day, being regular old silly, happy, sad, broken, strong, healing, hoping, loving, grouchy, crazy, sorry, bossy, loud, quiet, lonely, friendly, tired, passionate, me. AND I LIKED IT!!

Blooming

I had a realization. An epiphany. A blinding flash of mental and emotional light.

Here it is:



I'M STILL ALLOWED TO DREAM.


I suppose over the last few months, I've put my dreams away. I just assumed they would no longer be viable or compatible with my new life. I mean, BC (Before Crisis) I WAS living my dream. I WAS doing what I thought God had called me to do and what I've dreamed of since I was a kid. Then everything changed.

But the other night, it hit me. Right outta the blue! I was sitting in choir practice and I can't explain it, there was just a sudden awakening in my heart. A passion and a burning I hadn't felt in a long time. And I knew. My dream, my heart isn't going to die from this.

Sure, there may be changes in timing and situation, and even possible expansion of the dream, but IT DOESN'T HAVE TO DIE. As a matter of fact, inside my heart, it's alive and well. And it's ok for me to work towards it, live in it, play with it, and enjoy the dream God has given me.

I will give you a VERY RARE glimpse into my handwritten journal, because the words that flowed out there express this best.

"It's like I've been standing out in a horrible storm. Everything around me is devastated, even I am in shreds. But I open my clenched hand and find the delicate blossom of my dream and my calling still intact and beautiful as ever."

Today I will speak to a group of ladies. The event theme is "Blooming." And, just in time... so am I.

Peaceful, Easy Feelin'

There is nothing like the peaceful, easy camaraderie between members of God's family. I spent three evenings this week in the company of one old and four new friends. My friend, Kris and I figured out it had been 11 years since we'd seen each other. Now Kris has a family. The star of which is his amazing Mary. I had met her on the blogs, hers and mine, but never before in person.

I just can't explain how amazing it is to sit with someone you haven't seen in over a decade and someone you haven't seen before, ever, and feel completely at home and at peace. Of course I can't explain it. That's because it's a GOD THING. His family works this way when we let it. These past three days, we let it. And I'm so much better for it.

(Hear my contented sigh)

Life's good. God's good. Everything's gonna be alright.

New Joys

I had a light bulb moment. This one is thanks to my surprise visitors, Deanna and Jill. It's a little overdue in being posted, since the light bulb actually came on sometime Sunday night. But then the idea was immediately put to severe testing and I'm glad to say it has resurfaced intact.

Here's the AHA:

I was really bad off before my surprise visit. Down in the dumps. Then, with the shock of the surprise and seein' my girls again, well, I guess I just forgot for a while that I was Sad with a capital S. Once the visit was over, the light bulb came on. DUH!! I'm not dead! I'm suffering, yes, but I CAN still have fun. I can still laugh. I CAN EVEN STILL ENJOY LIFE.

I guess I had only thought there was ONE way of life I could enjoy. But that's not true. And I suppose the loss of that way of life, or the pain of the loss anyway, is in such stark contrast to the smallest happiness that it sort of magnifies that happiness. What I mean is, that some things aren't as easily taken for granted these days. Small moments of pleasure being one of those things.

So what does a girl do with such a light bulb moment? She gets out her journal. The light is on anyway, right? So she opens the journal and plays with the idea of enjoying the tiniest bit of happiness and getting every last drop of joy out of it. She makes a list of things she hasn't done but thinks might be fun. She makes a list of things she has done and wants to do again. She makes a list of things that bring her so much joy that they deserve a deliberate place in her everyday life.

Then she proceeds to write on. She writes her dreams, her hopes, and just plain ol' stuff she thinks. And she really enjoys that.

Then she proceeds to have a terrible week including several meltdown moments.

The light bulb came on just in time, as meltdown moments were balanced with a purposeful lingering over even the slightest thing that might bring joy.

So just in case you didn't know (Hey, don't be insulted, it was a surprise to me!) It's ok to take a break from grief for a while to let yourself really enjoy living. It might even be time to explore some new joys.

Speaking of... a thunderstorm is coming in. A rainy night is mine to savor. Gotta go!

Couldn't Resist

Found this picture of me and my sister...




Now ya'll know where the strange affinity for Alabama comes from. Same thing that makes me look so darn comfortable on an ATV, and gave me the stomach for eating venison and the knack for makin' sweet tea. Happiness!!

Lump in My Throat

I've been sitting here staring at the screen. I can't quite find words for what's inside me today. I try to make it a goal to write every day. If a writer doesn't write something every day, I'm not sure how anything would ever get written. So I'm sitting here trying to muster up some words.

I accomplished a lot today. Got some stuff done. That was nice.

I got the kids to school on time,even managed to start a load of laundry before we left and get my trash out, had a productive day at work, got my kids, got to the dancewear store to buy Mackenzie new tap shoes (her old ones were starting to get so small I couldn't bear to let her do another class in them), got her to dance class on time, paid some bills, picked Mackenzie up (new tap shoes were awesome), fixed supper and fed everyone, supervised homework for both kids, bathed both kids, read two stories, folded a load of laundry, swept the kitchen, went through a big pile of papers, and got both kids in bed.

I did good, yes?

Yes. But there's still a strange lump in my throat. It's wierd.

I was walking through Winn Dixie the other day, griping because the store is totally rearranged. I realized how ridiculous it was to complain about something so trivial. Then it dawned on me that change is uncomfortable. Even for me, Miss Bring-it-On-and-I'll-kick-it's-behind. And I gotta tell ya, that if a few flip flopped grocery store aisles throw me for a loop, imagine what it's like having life as I know it put in a proverbial blender and pureed.

The change that's bugging me most today is relational. I know how to do intense, enmeshed, all-up-in-my-space relationships. And I know how to do hammock-on-the-beach-just-me-and-God, everyone-else-stay-far-away aloneness. (Though I must admit I haven't had enough of that type of aloneness to become an authority on it.) But where I am now is just plain wierd. I can't be totally alone, though I'd love to step off the world and disappear. And I can't be too incredibly intimately close with anyone either. Anyone grownup at least. And it's wierd.

On the positive side, I have time to get to know myself, to try and do some things I've never had the chance to try and do. I can become a better me. A me that maybe someday someone will love. (I know lots of people love me. I don't mean that kind of love. I mean LUUUUV. You know.)

On the not so positive side, well... really the only bad part is that the change in my personal life is so profound that it hurts. I guess I feel like I've been dropped off in the middle of nowhere with no map. Kinda lost. Kinda freaked out. I mean, I'm good at emergencies. But now that the emergency is wearing off, the realization of my location is overwhelming.

What to do? I suppose I must take a deep breath, gather my wits, and enjoy the scenery. I'm in no rush to get back to civilization anyway. I guess what'll it hurt if I wander around for a while?

God-held Wonder

"When each earthly brace falls under,
And life seems a restless sea,
Are you then a God-held wonder,
Satisfied and calm and free?"


Read that today in Streams in the Desert. I love the ring of the words "God-held wonder."

My pastor said this morning that he would never get over what Jesus has done for him. I wholeheartedly agree. It is indeed a wonder to be held by God, no matter what is happening in life. Satisfaction, peace, and freedom are mine always, but to have them when the bottom falls out... now that's when God shows off what He can do in the lives of His children.

How excellent that no matter how I feel, no matter how bad it looks... at the core of me I am satisfied and calm and free. It's who I am because of Him. Some days I look at my reality and know that there is no way I should be functioning. And yet I am. No way I should walk on and yet I do. I should be flat on my back and yet I stand. Through every lonely, painful moment I am held by God. Indeed, it is a wonder.

I LOVE IT!

Only in New Orleans

Today we had a blast showing our city to Jill and Deanna. Of course, my proudest moment was stopping at a stoplight where a homeless man stood with a cardboard sign. It read:

"Hungry Hungry Hobos"


Only in New Orleans, baby!! I love this town!

Good Times

I have laughed more in the last 24 hours than I have in a long time.

I had forgotten what good laughter is. Deanna and Jill (my surprise visitors) are reminding me how fun life can be. I had forgotten how much I missed these two girls, and how much hilarious history we have. We almost don't have to say anything and we'll just be cracking up. And we don't have to make anything up. Seems like the wierd, crazy, and random just show up wherever we are. We just take full advantage of it all and laugh our heads off. It doesn't take much. All we need is a banana shake, some praying lettuce, and a good accordion and we can get a party started, right girls?

It's interesting, our relationship started with me as minister. I was their Bible study leader, trying my best to minister to them. Good times. Now, they are definitely ministering to me. More good times.

And for now, I'm gonna let 'em roll!

Why I'm His Favorite

It's been a rough week. I'm talking deep in despair, borderline ready to give up rough. Along with the difficult behavior that 5 year old boys exhibit when adjusting back home from a week's visit with their non-custodial parent, (hmmm... that makes me the custodial parent. Makes sense. The messes are left with me.) plus plenty of drama at work, plus sick kids, plus saying goodbye to my sister, there has been a level of loneliness that is nearly driving me out of my mind.

I've had a husband since I was 18. I know nothing of adult life apart from marriage. At least I didn't until now. And so far it's not that fun. There is a lonely echo in my soul in the place that used to be filled with soothing touches at the end of the day, conversations, a helping hand, a teammate, a person to rely on, a relationship with intimate depth. Now no one holds me at night, or ever.

I'm sad. So sad.

Yesterday, I had nearly reached rope's end, and a friend showed up at work and left me a box with a weeks worth of dinners prepared for me to freeze and use as needed. She didn't know what she did for me. Actually, she didn't know what God did for me through her.

I needed that, and as I carried my box of treasures to the walk-in fridge at work, I told my wondering coworkers, "It's because I'm God's favorite!"

I went on, somehow made it through church and stumbled my way home. Got the kids in bed and fell in bed myself. After a fitful nights sleep, today finally dawned. Sunny everywhere except inside me. We ran late and I had to check the kids in at school. Then Levi had an episode at school and had to be brought to my office. He wasn't in a good mood. I got the kids home and got them fed, then we went over to church where I somehow got through rehearsal. I dragged myself and my kids back home thinking I just can't make it, I can't deal with this. I had felt so alone all day I thought I was going to go nuts.

I didn't even get back into my house before a little car came driving down the road. Inside that little car happened to be two of the dearest sweetest people, who drove all the way from Florida to surprise me for the weekend. They might as well have been Ed McMahon telling me I'd won the million. I still can't believe they are here.

Of course, we soon piled in the car for a trip to Cafe Du Monde, and on the way there Mackenzie piped up from the back seat. "Mom, I think you were right when you said we are God's favorite."

See, I've told her that before. I've told her several times when unexplained wads of cash have been pressed into my hands. I've told her when somebody showed up and mowed our yard. I've told her when God gave me an awesome job.

At every turn, His grace is enough. Sometimes more than enough.

Sometimes, our God has a way of taking a woman who feels rejected and deflected, frumpy and grumpy, and making her feel like the most beautiful treasure. Oh, I know all of you out there have just as much of God's amazing love as I. But for now, I'm dancing in His arms, looking in His eyes, and I just know...

I'm His favorite.

While I Dream

Today was one of those days. You don't even wanna know. But, as of now, my kids are in bed peacefully resting, my workin girl clothes have been exchanged for a comfy old pair of sweats and a t-shirt, our tummies are full and I'm sitting in my rocking chair for a few minutes of peace before I climb into my bed and end this day.

Nothing really profound today. Just happy to still be alive, and glad to have gotten through another day. Can't think about tomorrow. I'm just gonna crawl under my covers and savor the loveliness of letting it all go while I dream.

Psalm 3:5 "I lie down and sleep. I wake again because the Lord sustains me."