aka*Mommy

Walking in Memphis

2011-08-17T22:50:00.000-04:00

And now on to bigger and way better things.

I took a trip out West last week. I knew that I knew and I KNEW it was a God-breathed trip. He set it up completely, and because I was so assured of this truth- I prayed "Guide me."

And He did.

I was going to be traveling from Atlanta, GA. all the way over to Santa Fe, NM. A close friend of mine moved out to Santa Fe and was in need of a person to drive their truck to them, and in return, she would fly me back to Atlanta. It was a blessing for BOTH of us, though I'd venture to say- I gained more from the adventure than she.

I was traveling SOLO. They had already gone out there the week before. IT was a 3 day road trip. Just me and God.

My first stop was in Memphis, TN. I had stopped at the Tennessee Welcome Center to take a potty break and stretch my legs a bit, and spoke to the lady at the front desk for just a few minutes. I asked her where a good stopping place would be around Memphis and she suggested in a true-southern drawl, "If you get a chance, stop by Beale Street. I love it there!"

I had heard of Beale Street, but I wasn't too sure what was so special about it.

After arriving in Memphis and finding a room to stay in (By the way! God blessed me with a stay at THE HILTON for less than half the price of what the room would have normally cost!), I snuggled into my bed and started searching Beale Street. My sister had suggested that I visit Graceland, but I was on a bit of a time crunch- and seriously- not that much of an Elvis fan.

I decided to wake up really early and take time to walk Beale Street. My thoughts were "I'll do it- just to say that I did it."

My alarm started singing at 6 AM. I was apparently so tired that, instead of waking up, I dreamed that someone kept playing a song OVER and OVER and over, and in my dream I frantically searched my iPhone to delete the song so that I would NEVER ever have to hear it again.

And then I woke up, and I laughed at myself. Out loud. And I didn't have to tell a single person the reason I was laughing. It was just me. And God. And He already knew what was so funny.

I took my time getting ready, drank a pretty decent cup of hotel coffee, and found my way to the truck. GPS mapped my way to Beale Street, and a Starbucks for an Iced Caramel Machiatto. It was already 80 degrees at 8 AM!

At first, I was simply impressed within the 2 blocks that I began walking. It was almost completely abandoned. The pictures I had seen showed a street that was PACKED full of people. It looked FUN! But then, I noticed that, though the street seemed quite abandoned- it was in fact- NOT. There were men sleeping in the alley, and on benches. There was a woman walking around picking up cigarette butts and an old man riding a bicylce trash can to trash can. I saw a few tourist taking pictures, cars driving by, huge signs promising GOOD BEER GREAT FOOD and heard music playing from the Hard Rock Cafe.

Suddenly, I found myself standing on the end of the street. Not moving. Just staring.

I was in awe, and I was sad. I took all of it in. It affected me deep in my spirit. I wish I could have sat down there- in the middle of the road and written down the emotions and thoughts that flew into my head.

To sum it up: Here's this fantastical place, glorified in every way in the night; but during the day- it's a bedroom for the homeless.

It was a fraud...........................

2011-08-17T22:08:00.000-04:00

I've taken a Blogger-Leave-of-Absence. The new layout has thrown me off. I don't like it at all.

But I'm not here to complain about blogger. I'm here to WHINE about other stuff!

It's my blog, and I'll whine if I want to.

School is in full force. When school is in- I take a dive into exhaustion. There is SO much to do. I'm that mom. The one that HAS to feed my kids a well rounded breakfast. No.. we don't eat breakfast at school. Nuh-uh! There will be no sugary cereal or pop-tarts in the cabinet. And (for the most part) HAVE to pack a healthy lunch. I get all panicked thinking of them eating crap-food and then feeling crummy all day.

I'm involved as much as I can be at school, and of course, I'm still a full time mommy to my 3rd Amiga at home. During the day while they're at school, I am either running errands, cleaning like a mad woman, organizing their closets (cause we're moving summer-play-clothes out and nice school clothes in... and then transitioning from summer to fall clothes.. and then fall to winter....), washing laundry- folding laundry- hanging laundry- picking up laundry from the bathroom, playroom, bedrooms, OUTSIDE!, and/or in the middle of the kitchen floor.

THEN! When they come home from school, it's homework time, chore time, bath time, dinner time, play time, and eventually bedtime. If I'm super lucky- we throw in a bit of snuggle-time in there as well.

Off they go to bed, and I'm back at it.. Clean up, prepare tomorrow's lunch, throw in another load of laundry, and so on and so on....

School functions throw us for a loop. And goodness gracious- we've not even begun the extra curricular activities yet. At some point soon, my oldest will take ballet, and my middle will want to be involved in something as well.

Here's where the whine comes in. I'm NOT a single mom. Nope. I've been married for a whole-entire-whopping 11 years. Kinda stinks to have to do all of this alone.

My husband comes home from work, between 4 and 5 pm. Sometimes 6 or 7, but not often; and his routine is SO simple. Take a shower. Tinker on whatever project he has going at the time (boat, car, truck, motorcycle, etc.). Watch a little TV. GO to bed.

AHHHH!!!!!! It makes me CRAZY.

And to make things worse... my love language is ACTS OF SERVICE. So, I'm busting my rump, wearing myself out- trying to do the very best that I can for my girls, and my spouse kinda just lays low, outta the way. What I need for him to do is HELP. I got the cleaning the house job down. It's never EVER perfect, but I don't expect him to do it. That's my "day job", not his. But a little yard work would be swell. Check the oil in the van maybe? Do a little kick on the tires and make sure their hanging in there. Possibly, I don't know, maybe even do homework with the girls.

I try not to do a whole lotta venting here. But once in a while- I'm boiling over. And THIS is my outlet. It's my place. And to be honest, I'm positive that this is an issue that MOST women have with their spouses. I'm not naive in thinking that my husband is the only one that may be slightly confused about the role he is called to play in our family.

So many men assume that just because we 'stay-at-home' that we some how morphed into a "do it all" kind of person or something. I'm a capable woman, but GOOD GRIEF, I'm not a machine. I can NOT do it all and stay sane and healthy. Marriage is a PARTNERship. Parenting is a PARTNERship. I can NOT be the mom I am called to be without the support of my husband. It's just NOT possible.

I Need a Hand?

2011-07-02T01:35:00.000-04:00

In the middle of Chick Fil A my 3 year old stood.

And then she barfed.

I was standing at the counter- paying for my food, and I look over to see all her curls and all her cuteness, and all of her rasberries from lunch on the floor.

The other 2 girls are ready to eat. And they are ready to go to VBS for their Kool-Aid and Butter Cookie fix. I have to improvise. I have to think fast.

I wash her up in the bathroom and strip off her gnardly smelling shirt. I walk her, head held high, through Chick Fil A and straight out to the car. I am thinking to myself "Ya. I rock. I'm awesome. I am handling this. I got 2 in the store eating their lunch- I'm about to get this chick a new shirt- and we're gonna just pretend like nothing even happened.... Wonder if that dude gagged while he was mopping up her barf? Poor guy."

In the car, there was not a SINGLE stitch of clothing to put on this half nekid little girl.

Dang.

It took me a minute to think. Cancel VBS since nekid-curly-3-year-old daughter has no clothes? No. The drama that would erupt out of the eldest would NOT be worth it.

So I did what any 'creative' mom would do.

I gave my 3 year old the shirt off my back.

The under shirt off my back, that is.

Lucky for her, it was pink. With only a few deoderant smudges on it.

I went into that bathroom stall, pulled off my shirt, put it on her- tied it in the back and BY GOLLY somebody call freakin' Designer's R US cause that chick was ROCKIN' her new threads.

It was an "I'm a Poor Orphan Child with No Clothes" look.

But hey?

She wore it well!!

We sat there and ate our grub. Proudly.

(I was secretly hoping someone would applaud me after I walked out of that bathroom. "Whoa! Did you see that move!? It was unBElievable! She nailed it! Good job, mom! GOOD. JOB!")

I got nothing. No praise. No applaud.

I got grief.

"Can we get icecream? WHY NOT!? Ok??? How 'bout a brownie? NO???!

That's not FAIR!"

IT was all good, though.

Onward to VBS!

Or not.

The 3 year old barfed again.

The 5 year old complained of her belly hurting.

Drama eruption commenced when I announced: "We'll just have to go home."

My kids don't understand the "Do unto others" rule.

If you're kids are barfing- keep them AWAY from my kids, ... and stuff.

Improvise. Think, Amber, THINK! How can you stop these kids from screaming?!?!

And so I stop at a store to get them icecream instead of Butter Cookies and Kool-Aid.

Yay!! Mommy is a HERO! Whooo HOOOO!

No.

My car broke down.
At the store.
IN front of the place that some workers were cleaning out the sewage.

It's like 100 degrees outside.

My car is dead.

IT smells like BUTT in the parking lot where I am stranded.

One kid is barfing.

One kids is threatening to barf.

And they are ALL whining about whoever it was that "FARTED" in the car.

I popped my hood.

I called my husband.

And called him.

No answer.

Crap.

I hate asking for help! But I sucked it up and asked an older gentleman.

"Charles. Charles Brown. You can remember Charlie Brown, now, can't ya?" (insert the most PRECIOUS grandfatherly grin and southern wink you'll have EVER witnessed in YOUR LIFE!) and then he sweetened up his charm:

"Honey? You wanna come with us tonight?"

Melted my frustrations away!

Home. WE made it home.
And I crashed.

Had all the chaos happened over the span of the day- I'd have dealt with it better.
But somehow- for some reason- HELL decided to enter in to the 5:00 hour of my Wednesday evening.

We survived, though.

Barely.

The Life of a Mommy. Not so much like a box of chocolates, Forest Gump.
More like? Russian Roulette- with a paintball gun.

Social Media Silence: The End when it Began

2011-06-29T01:04:00.000-04:00

If I was in SMA (Social Media Anonymous) I'd have to turn in my "chip" and declare:

I'm OFF the WAGON.

And then I'd never show my shamed face back at one of those meetings again.

To think that I could go SOCIAL MEDIA SILENT?!

Hah.

Puh.

PSh!

YaRIGHT.

We're in reality. Social Media is here, and it's relevant, and it's useful and it can be CONTROLLED. I could NOT post EVERYTHING on Facebook, and save some content for blogging- and STILL be apart of Social Media's explosion via Facebook and Twitter to get updates and links, and commentary, and music info, etc.

I failed.
But you know what?
I failed SUCCESSFULLY.

Props to me.

Hollah!

76 Cents and a Lead Weight

2011-06-28T14:30:00.000-04:00

Priceless

During my childhood, for as long as I can remember, my Daddy had a record player, and a library of classic records. Classic Rock, from the 60's and 70's. Some common, others, not so common.

Dire Straits, Bob Dylan, Jefferson Airplane, The Guess Who, The Beatles, Gordon Lightfoot, Donovan....

Every weekend, for years and years, we went to his house, and in the evening- when we were all bored with TV and there was NOTHING else to do- he'd say "HEY! Who wants to listen to some records??"

And my sister and I would squeal "Noooooooooo!!! No, Daddy. PLEASE! No!!!!"

And my dad would say "Ok. Just this one, you gotta hear this song. It's really good!"

3 hours later, his one song had turned into several albums as we sat around his table playing Yahtzee, Spades, and Rummy. Pausing the games to flip over a record, or find a new album.

I remember the ones that 'grew' on me, the albums that became my favorite- not by the name of the artist, and not by the name of the song, but by the album cover itself. Vinyl Albums came with some of the most amazing art! (and some of the art was obviously acid-tripping-pot-smoking-high-as-a-kite inspired), but amazing none-the-less.

(love this album!)

(This album, in particular- I had NO idea what songs were on it. I just remembered the cover. I had not, in my adult life, sought out any of these songs as a source of nostalgia- because I simply did NOT know who they were. Having picked this album out from my dad's box, I put it on the turn table and BAM! Some of my favorites!!)

I'm pretty sure that my absolute LOVE for music came from my Daddy. But? It's not just the music- when you're talking about record playing- it's the experience. My dad would flip through several albums, trying to find one in particular that he was wanting to listen to. In the process, he'd pull out one here, and one there, notating which songs on the album were really good. He'd occasionally pull out an album and say "Wait!? I didn't know I had this one! We gotta listen to this first; while I'm looking for...."

It's not just the music.
It's the smell of the paper album cover.
The shine on the vinyl as you tilt it back to look for scratches.
The admiration of the art. The discovery of something new, found in something old.
The scratchy sound as the record turns. The controlled-static-pause when the song ends.

It's the experience. It's the nostalgia.

So- my dad let me borrow a portion of his record collection. And he loaned me his record player. I cried when I was flipping through some of the albums with him. "I miss doing this with you, Daddy." He patted me on my shoulder and squeezed me a little bit, "Ya, I miss it too, baby. We had a lot of fun."

I cried in the car when we were leaving.
My husband patted me on my shoulder, and squeezed me a little "I know this is hard for you."
He was right.
(I don't get to spend time with my dad.)

We came home and plugged up the record player. It didn't work.
My heart sank. My husband came to the rescue and somehow discovered that the band under the turn table had come loose.

We tried again.

The needle was too heavy. It was dragging the record.

My dad had given me a few albums to look at, and to listen to. He excitedly instructed me to listen to a few songs "Oh! Amoreena. Elton John. You have to listen to that song. I mean? I ONLY bought that record for THAT song." "Gordon Lightfoot. Carefree Highway. That's a really good one. Play that one when you get home." "Ok, now. This song might seem bad, but it's actually really good. It's about how religion is the core of war, just listen to it, I think you'll really like it. Bob Dylan "With God on our Side".

I was sad that I couldn't listen to those records. That night. Right then! I didn't want to wait around til we found a record player... or a needle arm.... or whatever it was we were going to need.

Before I could get completely bummed out, however, my husband had the remedy to lighten the load on the needle. He's so amazing, and so GENIUS. He knew my heart. He knew what was important to me.

He created. He deciphered. He put thought, and action into making a way for me to sit in the fog of memories in between Bob Dylan and Elton John, and as I type this today, I get the pleasure of listening to the amazing Crosby, Stills, and Nash and Ten Years After.

76 cents and a Lead Weight. IT lightened the load. Lifting the needle up just enough to create the sound that it was intended to create.

Who would have thought that something so 'cheap' would turn out to be so priceless.

(Carefully placed on the back of the needle, 76 cents and a Lead Weight)

And for the rest of the night, my husband replaced my heavy heart, burdened with the memories of a dad that used to be. He created a new memory; a sweeter place to go to- one that can carry be back to my childhood, to the place where I enjoyed the time spent on the floor in front of a record player- lightening the load of my heart knowing that I don't have the luxury of doing that with my dad- by taking his place- beside me, on the carpet- sifting through records; through art- through nostalgia.

Mommyhood

2011-06-25T00:39:00.000-04:00

5 minutes.

The time that goes by without an interruption, or an explosion of

"MomEEEE!!!!".

It doesn't matter what I'm doing.

Cooking.

Cleaning.

Folding laundry.

Writing.

Reading.

Taking a bath.

Interruption.

"She took my doll."

"She won't get out of my room."

"She hit me."

"She... They... But can I... Why won't you... Why NOT?!?"

At the end of my rope I grasp, losing my sanity. I can't do this Mommy thing!! I can't be patient when I need to be. I can't use calm, yet assertive words to get my point across!!! I can't have a thought long enough to keep it as my own before it is robbed from me!!!

And just when I think I've had more than I can handle, one of them comes to me and says- out of the blue, in the midst of my chaos,

"I love you!! You're the BEST mommy in the world!!!"

And it all disappears. The frustration melts away, and I am suddenly refreshed with more will, and more strength to live up to what they believe to be true.

I'm a good mommy??

No.

I'm the BEST mommy!!

READY TO WRITE

2011-06-23T00:48:00.000-04:00

It's ridiculous that I'm about to reference 'writing' as a good friend of mine, yep- there it is. I just did it.

Inanimate turned animate.

Is that phrase correct? Whatever. We don't care anyway....

I miss freedom. I miss silence. I miss space. I miss free flowing thoughts. I miss the ability to fluidly flow said thoughts onto my computer screen. And then spellcheck. And add commas. And then read it. And then press "publish".

I miss writing. I miss my friend. I miss my companion. My buddy. My pal. My chill. Miss it LIKE CRAZY.

Turns out- I've been way busier than I realized. And way more consumed with "stuff" than I originally assessed. Don't know how thats possible- but apparently, it. is. so.

And being "blocked by grace" isn't what it is anymore. Grace done did it's number on me. I mean? In a good way... obviously. Cause it's grace. That's always a good thing.

I discovered a bunch without having to write. Huge deal. Big stuff. We're talking GROWTH, here.

God is cool-like-that. He reaches me, in His perfect time, without my hand having to move or my mouth needing to jabber. Just gotta have my ears open....

Easier said than accomplished. But I'm learning.

So I'm ready to write some more. I'm ready to do some music reviews. Movie reviews. Book reviews.

I'm ready to let loose and spill the beans about how dysfunctional my thought processes are.

I'm ready to notate the hilariousness and quirky goof that unfolds each day with my Tres Amigas.

Ready to write again. Just for fun. Just for the sheer pleasure of doing it.

Its Like? Swinging!! I'm moving, using energy... But for nothing more than to get a few butterflies in my belly if I close my eyes and lay my head back- allowing my hair to sweep the dirt under me...

Cautionary Precautions

2011-06-23T00:05:00.000-04:00

Quick Note:

I saw an article about drowning tonight.

It stated that most of the time, drowning doesn't happen in that "loud splashing" way like you see in the movies.

Most of the time- it's silent.

Interesting that I read that article tonight; This evening, at a friend's swimming pool, my 3 year old dare-devil removed herself from her floaty as I was jabbering, not paying the least bit of attention, and I hadn't a clue that she was no longer "safe" in the swimming pool. My eyes were off of her for mere minutes... literally... maybe 2 minutes... possibly 3.

I just happened (read: GOD tapped me on my shoulder) to look over and find her struggling to grab onto the wall on the side of the pool. She had walked off the slope to the deep end.

I'm getting extremely emotional thinking about this now as I type it. I'm reliving the scenario in my mind.

I'm thinking about how, JUST last week, we had a similar incident with her at a different swimming pool, and how I had talked to her and said "Next time you get under the water, swim as hard as you can, and grab the side of the swimming pool."

We practiced. She sank more than she swam. We practiced more.

Today was silent. She didn't make a noise. She didn't say a word. There wasn't a splash.

She had made it to the side of the pool and held on before I got to her.

But my mind is going elsewhere.

What if.....

What if she hadn't made it to the side of the pool and I never turned my head to check on her?

What if she had inhaled more water than she had spit out?

What if my carelessness cost my child her life?

And my daughters a sister?

And my friend the burden of guilt?
And my family the loss of their granddaughter, their niece, their cousin?

What if I wasn't in tune to the Holy Spirit? What if He had tapped me on my shoulders and I ignored Him, because I wasn't "used" to His tapping?

Lesson learned.

Thank you JESUS I didn't have to learn in the hard way.

Social Media Silence

2011-06-22T23:27:00.000-04:00

Each and every single (dern) time I try to remove myself from Facebook, something happens, and I realize that I'm not ABLE to.

For instance:

Last time I tried- I found this Networked Blogging thing, and I thought to myself "Well? This could be productive. My blogs will be living throughout Facebook land, and maybe possibly I'll find myself more inclined to write (knowing that I have a little bit of an audience).

Nah. It didn't work. I think it had more of an opposite effect. Sort of like, maybe a little bit of a "Stage Fright" effect. (What/!?! More than 2 people are going to be reading my blog?!? OH NO! Freeze.)

The time before that, when I wanted to "quit" social media, I realized that almost every person that I contacted on a regular basis was via Facebook. Girlfriends and I would set up dates through Facebook's private messaging. It's easy, man. You just send a message to several people, and then you read all the replies and then eventually, you have a plan!! (Wait? Isn't that a little bit like the CC and the BCC thing that email has??)

So? Maybe I was just handing myself some excuses?
Maybe I ~~was~~ am a bit of social media addict?
I think so.

My final GOODBYE decision this time 'round was when I found myself trying to figure out what color my ex-boyfriend (from when I was 15) should paint his walls in his living room.

Seriously. I thought it out. " The carpet is red? Yikes. Ok? What would go well with red carpet? Hmmmm......" and after about 10 minutes of burning my brain cells, bells started ringing in my ear and I jolted into reality "What. Am. I. Doing?!?!?"
I should have been thinking about way (WAY) more important things other than my ex-boyfriend from highschool (who is now gay, by the way) and his wall color.

THIS time, I'm totally serious. Like? For real.
I'm going Social Media Silent.
Nothing can stop me.
I have a plan.

First: I sent an open Facebook Status Update to friends that said "send me your email address."
That way, if I wanted to confirm a date, or make a plan, or just send a quick "hey there, how ya doin?" I could EMAIL.
I know. Pretty smart, right?
I only got 4 email addresses.
Apparently, email is the new "snail mail". Folks (including me) don't like having to dig through their email.

I understand.

Either way- I also have phone numbers. If email doesn't work, I can send a text.
OR!
I know this is crazy... ... I could even CALL.

And aside from a personal annoyance with myself over wasting my time reading updates that seem unimportant to me (found a dollar in the dryer, whooHoo) or stirred up a jealousy in me (going to get my nails done and then getting an hour massage while my husband cleans the house and watches my kids) I wanted to be doing this instead of updating my Facebook Status. (this = blogging).

I am feeling CONFIDENT about my decision.
Instead of deleting my account, I'm just taking a break.

And I have gone the WHOLE entire day without status-updating. I have typed out my usual updates in my cute-little-EverNOTE app on my handy-dandy iPhone. I have opened up my blogger account and caught up on the MANY blogs I haven't read in way-to-long. Social Media Silence is going well for me.

Until......

My sister sends me a text message: "Post those pics you took today on Facebook, and tag me in them."

?

!

?

Sigh.

Hi. My name is Amber. And...... I'm addicted to Social Media.

What I Should Have Said Was.....

2011-05-18T00:33:00.000-04:00

So I went to the store tonight to pick up a container of ice-cream for my hubs. I had no intention of consuming said ice-cream, so this was an all-together selfless act on my part.

Or?

I might me lying.

I might have planned on snagging a few bites of his. Whatever, though.
Either way, I was going to get some ice-cream.

I pull the pint-sized container out of the freezer at our local Dollar General; it's where all the high-rollers go here in our small town. The DG. That's where the good stuff is, baby!

(and it's 5 miles from our house... so you know.... there's that)

There's a man standing beside me, staring at me, shaking his head in disapproval as he watches me choose my (husband's) Breyer's Chocolately goodness.

He says to me, grumpy-old-man-style (and I quote),

"That's gonna make you FAT!"

Sometimes, I can be witty. Sometimes, I can jokingly pull of a light-hearted response to an otherwise uncomfortable situation. But mostly... I find that I'm stumped and akward, and say something completely dorky, and not-at-all funny.

Since I didn't want to be a complete nerd and say "Ya? Well?.... Sooooooooooo" I responded to him kindly, with an apologetic but annoyingly chipper smile,

"Aww? Well, good thing for me this is for my husband." I think my head tilted to the right a little bit

He replies, "Ya? Well! He's gonna get fat, then!"

Dang.

I had nothing.

I just bought my ice-cream and walked to my car, trying to decide if I was gonna feel sorry for him for being so miserable, or get mad at him and update my Facebook status with the word "Bastard" in it.

But then, all at once, my brain decided to COME ALIVE with mounds of epic comebacks. It was as if the Flood Gates of Wit opened up and washed away my spineless-ness.

For Example:

I could have played the emotionally impaired part by saying:

"Really?

What? You think I'm skinny?

You don't think I'm already fat?

Or are you saying I'm fat?

ARE you saying I'm fat??

Oh-my-Gosh. You're calling me FAT.....!"

I could've made him seriously uncomfortable by staring at him blankly and saying:

"I'm really a man."

I could have shaniqua-shook my head,

snapped by finger

and said

"Yo Mama's FAT!"

Or I could have started crying dramatically and said

"I. Am. NOT. Fat. I'm PREGNANT!"

and then threw the ice-cream pint at him.

OR?

I could have completely baffled him with:

"I sure hope so! I've been trying to gain weight for a while now.

Maybe I should grab two containers?"

I should have said excitedly, in a high-pitched voice

"Did you know that Jesus> Loves> You?!?!"

and then invited him to church.

(but not really- cause homey don't play that over here.

i can't STAND when people do that to me.)

It'd have been funny to watch this "scene" on a stage or in a TV sitcom, but in the end- for truly, I'm glad I responded respectfully.

His remark did kind of hurt my feelings a little bit.

And it's possible that it made me irritated and think a few 'not nice' things about him.

But here's the deal- the truth is the truth- even it gets spit out of snarky older folk.

I didn't have any ice-cream, tonight. (You know? So I wouldn't get fat.)

Or maybe 'cause Joshua ate it all...? but whatever...

Insecurity: Reader's Digest Version

2011-05-16T16:09:00.000-04:00

(minus the preface- because I got a little wordy).

In the 7+ years since I last 'worked' a regular job I have found that my security is still often found in affirmation (or the lack-there-of). Each and every time I find myself doing something 'new', I look around like a lost child for somebody to 'help' me. Someone to tell me I'm "doing great". Someone to rate me. Someone to constructively criticize me. Someone to pat me on the back, or kick me in the rear. I suppose in all actuality, I wasn't just looking for affirmation- I simply looking for something to help me know "how I was doing".

As a mom, it's hit or miss (mostly miss) as to whether or not I'm going to get that needed "good job! you're great! I like what you're doing.". I've learned to look for it in different ways. Maybe it's when my 7 year old hits a maturity-growth spurt and I see her flourishing as she interacts with her friends at school instead of pouting or whining. It may be when my 5 year old bounces around the house like the tender-loving-goof-ball that she is singing "I love you, Mommy! I love you!" And at times, it's when my 3 year old is quietly playing with blocks instead of deconstructing our living room with markers and paint.

And I am so quick to shoot myself down, so quickly I find something that I lack, something that makes me less-than-decent, I find all of the wrong that I've done, and I see all the ways that I fail.

I see piles of laundry that beat me down with their odorous stench, reminding me of just how terribly Ido manage my time and my resources.

I see cluttered floors that trip me up and take me further down a few notches, telling me that I should be able to keep a clean house like a 'normal' stay at home mom does.

I see a blog with empty and unfinished post and a book yet to be written half way through, helping me to realize that being a writer isn't where I'm going to find myself anytime soon.

I see chubby thighs and flabby arms that harshly encourage me to forgo my sloth and hit the gym (and stop eating so many Cheez-Its forGoodnessSAKE!).

But if YOU were to tell me all of these things about yourself, I'd knock you off your pity party and remind you of how unfair you were being to yourself. HECK! If YOU were to tell me all of these things about MYSELF, I'd defend my cluttered floors and chunky butt with ALL of the reasons why I shan't be made to feel less-than-what-I-am.

Isn't in interesting?! How insecurity plays tricks and manipulates our thought!? Isn't it interesting that, in everything a person can accomplish- it's rare to find a true sense of security in so many of us human beings!

I've never looked at a Lion and thought
"Awww. She'd be able to kill that little baby deer if she'd just stop feeling so badly about herself."

Lord, NO! A Lioness knows that if she's hungry, she's gotta hunt, and once she sets her eyes on her meal, she's gonna be eatin'. And I'm willing to bet that she doesn't feel a bit of insecurity about her ability to feed her lion mate or train her babies to be great lions and lioness'.

Perhaps that's the problem? Perhaps I was never trained to be a great mother. Or a great wife. Or a great writer. Perhaps I don't know what I'm suppose to be doing, or how I'm suppose to be doing it. Perhaps my insecurity comes from something as small as "not knowing".

That's where the enemy grabs up some trampling ground. The bible says that Satan is the "author of confusion". It's true. He wrote a novel pinpointing all of my insecurities, all of my short-comings, all of my "I don't know what I'm doing's", and he reads it to me daily.

My failure isn't anything that he says it is. My failure is simply allowing that 'novel' to be read to me by the author of LIES.

Here's what I know:

God directs my path.
He will make a way for me.
He is the official author of Truth, and Love, and Security.

I forget this often. I am who I am because HE made me who I should be. If I fail- it's a blessing to learn from my mistakes- not an option to beat myself up. If I prosper- it's a blessing from HIM and not an opportunity to boast in my ability; but that doesn't give me the right to tear myself down, either.

The Lord used a situation that I was in recently to reveal just how terribly insecure I really am. I had been starving for an affirming word to the point of tears, and had gotten myself into a pit of emotional malfunction. God kept whispering "Hey- why are you hoping to find your security in that?" and I kept ignoring His question.

Finally, He roared in my heart
"DO NOT FIND AFFIRMATION IN THOSE THINGS!!! FIND. IT. IN. ME."

I heard Him loud and clear. And found myself asking questions and hearing answers. I discovered a few very important life-points that I hope to remember.

A.
If I'm doing anything, I have to be certain that I require no affirmations afterward. Furthermore- I should expectnothing in return. Whether it be cooking my family a meal, or building somebody a house.... If I do anything it needs to be out of a genuine heart to "do" and not to "get".

B.
If ever (whenEVER) I find myself in a pit- I have GOT to remember to check the reality of why it is that I'm in that pit. Did I mess up or am I just being insecure?

C.
Take the 'playback' and 'predict' off of my options menu.
DO NOT play back situations that you were in and pick yourself apart.
Stop predicting what someone is going to say and/or do as a way to convince yourself that you shouldn't approach and/or move forward with something you know you should do. Example: If you need to apologize, don't assume it's going to be a waste of your time because you "know" the other person is going to rip-you-a-new-one. Just apologize.

It seems as if many of us are insecure. I know that among the friends and family that I have, at least those who are willing to admit it, that this is a true statement. It's not just women, either ya'll. Men, too. Maybe even more so.

So I'm not alone in my insecurity. But I don't want to stay in it, either.

Insecurity

2011-05-16T16:00:00.000-04:00

I was the newcomer at my job. 21 years young, and completely uncertain of myself. I had worked in that type of environment before; but I'd never had the position that I was now holding. I was a part of the management team, I was on a salary.... I was scared out of my skin!

I had to "fake it so I'd make it." That was all there was to it. The person that hired me found something in me that told her that I was a good fit for the job. I applied for the job because I had found something in me that said that I could not only do the job, but also love what I was doing.

The position I held was an Activities Director at an Assisted Living Facility. My job was to come up with, initiate, and lead the senior residents at the facility in various activities. There were some that were very mobile and cognitive, some were immobile and unaware, and there were some in between. Easy enough. We filled our days with Bingo, "Spa" treatments (nails painted, hand massages, etc. given by Yours Truly), we had 'lunch dates' out, we went to local Farmers Markets and picked corn and beans to shuck and snap. We did it all. We had a blast!! That was the easy part. THAT was the rewarding part.

If ever I questioned myself, if ever I felt concerned that I was failing- those sweet, loving, and oh-so-wise senior friends of mine would (unknowingly) snuff out all those insecurities by lifting me up, by thanking me for being there for them, by loving on me. Even those that were going downhill in their dementia would somehow affirm me through their words, or smiles, or lightened up eyes when I entered their room.

Alongside that role, I also needed to be in contact with the residents' family via a monthly newsletter and calendar that I was to create and send out.

I needed to schedule doctor's appointments on the days that I had set aside to help the residents "run errands". It made them feel more independent- to come to me and say "I want to go get my nails done; can we fit that in on Tuesday." or "I'd like to go to Rite Aid and pick up some new makeup".

And then there were some that simply did not want to participate. They were bitter about their circumstances. Many were depressed. I went 'out of the box' and chose to coddle these ones; knowing that they wouldn't participate at all in any corporate activity- I chose to go-to-them. I knocked on their door, I sat on the edge of their bed, or beside them on their couch, and we chatted. That's all they needed; somebody to talk to, and somebody to listen. And that's what I gave them, and that's what I loved the most about my job.

That "job" (and I quote job because more often that not it was more than a pleasure to be doing what I was doing) enabled me to grow in more ways than I realized it had.

Through all the affirmations that I recieved (from residents and their family members), I found my security.
But then, there was my boss. She didn't quite view me the way others did. She was often unhappy with how I utilized my time. She was often frustrated when I visited residents 'one on one' instead of pushing them to join in on our activities. She stressed me out more than I care to recall. And to be fair- she was right in many ways. I didn't do 'the job' the way she would have done it, and in was her right to enforce her requirements on me.

It was rare that she affirmed me. Rare. And though I had my praises sung on a daily basis by the residents that I cherished so dearly- the chastising and ridicule that she offered broke me back into insecurities shape.

Affirmation. Oh, how I love thee. Oh, how I need you!

Leaving my position as an Activities Director came to pass when my new role as "mommy" took over. Talk about a 180. Or was it?! I suppose I found a few affirmations in the sweet slumber that my newborn offered me right after she finished nursing. And I may have took it as a personal compliment each-and-every-time anyone doted on how sweet and beautiful my baby girl was (and still is.... )

In the 7+ years since I last 'worked' a regular job I have found that my security is still often found in affirmation (or the lack-there-of). Each and every time I find myself doing something 'new', I look around like a lost child for somebody to 'help' me. Someone to tell me I'm "doing great". Someone to rate me. Someone to constructively criticize me. Someone to pat me on the back, or kick me in the rear. I suppose in all actuality, I wasn't just looking for affirmation- I simply looking for something to help me know "how I was doing".

As a mom, it's hit or miss (mostly miss) as to whether or not I'm going to get that needed "good job! you're great! I like what you're doing.". I've learned to look for it in different ways. Maybe it's when my 7 year old hits a maturity-growth spurt and I see her flourishing as she interacts with her friends at school instead of pouting or whining. It may be when my 5 year old bounces around the house like the tender-loving-goof-ball that she is singing "I love you, Mommy! I love you!" And at times, it's when my 3 year old is quietly playing with blocks instead of deconstructing our living room with markers and paint.

And I am so quick to shoot myself down, so quickly I find something that I lack, something that makes me less-than-decent, I find all of the wrong that I've done, and I see all the ways that I fail.

I see piles of laundry that beat me down with their odorous stench, reminding me of just how terribly I do manage my time and my resources.

I see cluttered floors that trip me up and take me further down a few notches, telling me that I should be able to keep a clean house like a 'normal' stay at home mom does.

I see a blog with empty and unfinished post and a book yet to be written half way through, helping me to realize that being a writer isn't where I'm going to find myself anytime soon.

I see chubby thighs and flabby arms that harshly encourage me to forgo my sloth and hit the gym (and stop eating so many Cheez-Its forGoodnessSAKE!).

But if YOU were to tell me all of these things about yourself, I'd knock you off your pity party and remind you of how unfair you were being to yourself. HECK! If YOU were to tell me all of these things about MYSELF, I'd defend my cluttered floors and chunky butt with ALL of the reasons why I shan't be made to feel less-than-what-I-am.

Isn't in interesting?! How insecurity plays tricks and manipulates our thought!? Isn't it interesting that, in everything a person can accomplish- it's rare to find a true sense of security in so many of us human beings!

I've never looked at a Lion and thought
"Awww. She'd be able to kill that little baby deer if she'd just stop feeling so badly about herself."

Lord, NO! A Lioness knows that if she's hungry, she's gotta hunt, and once she sets her eyes on her meal, she's gonna be eatin'. And I'm willing to bet that she doesn't feel a bit of insecurity about her ability to feed her lion mate or train her babies to be great lions and lioness'.

Perhaps that's the problem? Perhaps I was never trained to be a great mother. Or a great wife. Or a great writer. Perhaps I don't know what I'm suppose to be doing, or how I'm suppose to be doing it. Perhaps my insecurity comes from something as small as "not knowing".

That's where the enemy grabs up some trampling ground. The bible says that Satan is the "author of confusion". It's true. He wrote a novel pinpointing all of my insecurities, all of my short-comings, all of my "I don't know what I'm doing's", and he reads it to me daily.

My failure isn't anything that he says it is. My failure is simply allowing that 'novel' to be read to me by the author of LIES.

Here's what I know:

God directs my path.
He will make a way for me.
He is the official author of Truth, and Love, and Security.

I forget this often. I am who I am because HE made me who I should be. If I fail- it's a blessing to learn from my mistakes- not an option to beat myself up. If I prosper- it's a blessing from HIM and not an opportunity to boast in my ability; but that doesn't give me the right to tear myself down, either.

The Lord used a situation that I was in recently to reveal just how terribly insecure I really am. I had been starving for an affirming word to the point of tears, and had gotten myself into a pit of emotional malfunction. God kept whispering "Hey- why are you hoping to find your security in that?" and I kept ignoring His question.

Finally, He roared in my heart
"DO NOT FIND AFFIRMATION IN THOSE THINGS!!! FIND. IT. IN. ME."

I heard Him loud and clear. And found myself asking questions and hearing answers. I discovered a few very important life-points that I hope to remember.

A.
If I'm doing anything, I have to be certain that I require no affirmations afterward. Furthermore- I should expect nothing in return. Whether it be cooking my family a meal, or building somebody a house.... If I do anything it needs to be out of a genuine heart to "do" and not to "get".

B.
If ever (whenEVER) I find myself in a pit- I have GOT to remember to check the reality of why it is that I'm in that pit. Did I mess up or am I just being insecure?

C.
Take the 'playback' and 'predict' off of my options menu.
DO NOT play back situations that you were in and pick yourself apart.
Stop predicting what someone is going to say and/or do as a way to convince yourself that you shouldn't approach and/or move forward with something you know you should do. Example: If you need to apologize, don't assume it's going to be a waste of your time because you "know" the other person is going to rip-you-a-new-one. Just apologize.

It seems as if many of us are insecure. I know that among the friends and family that I have, at least those who are willing to admit it, that this is a true statement. It's not just women, either ya'll. Men, too. Maybe even more so.

So I'm not alone in my insecurity. But I don't want to stay in it, either.

What are some ways that you ward of insecurity?

A Night With Echoing Angels

2011-05-16T11:25:00.000-04:00

Yet another fantastic concert by the amazing Echoing Angels.

The band offered a free concert in our hometown at Lakewood Baptist Church. My sweet girls Kyla (7) and Zoe (5) and I made it a 'Girls Night Out'. We were front and center, literally, as the band started playing.

We had several little friends join us in the front and all the girls made a stage for themselves as they partied like Rock Stars dancing to some of the BEST songs out in Christian Radio today.

At one point, during the slower songs (Fire and Sad Sad Tears) my 7 year old went into her own little world dancing ballet style in front of the entire church. I teared up as I watched her, she was unaware of everyone around her, unaware of an entire church body that could see her; unaware that she was tugging at my heart as I watched her literally dance before the Lord.

The band stayed after to sign autographs and meet their fans. Here's a little inside scoop on the ministry that is Echoing Angels. The previous night (Saturday) they put on another free concert several towns away. Afterward they traveled over to Lakewood around midnight to (personally) set up and ready their equipment to lead worship the next morning. They played their hearts out during the show this night, and joyfully enjoyed time with those that wanted to hang out with them afterward. They posed for photos. They signed cd's, and pictures, and stickers, and at one point they signed a girls shoe.... joking with her by making groddy faces.

They interacted with each person that came through the line, even my sweet girl, Kyla- who has compared their 'super star' status to the likes of the one and only Justin Bieber.

They love what they do; It's apparent. They love Who they serve; It's obvious. I've never seen anything like this in any industry. Secular or Christian. I've had autographs signed by other CCM artist. Well known, big time, artist. They sign your stuff, and don't even look up to see who you are. Realistically I can imagine that their tired and maybe a bit jaded by the whole autograph thing, but it's certainly not what I had expected. Same for known speakers/authors in the Christian Community. I had a book signed by someone that I totally respected and admired as an author. Afterward, I couldn't help but feel rejected by this person; I felt as if my meeting him was a burden. It was akward and I swore off EVER meeting another person that I had learned from or was ministered by.

I pray that Echoing Angels sets the bar for other CCM artist out there now. It's not just about putting on a show. It's not just about singing some awesome songs. It's about the ministry that's involved. This isn't just music. It's Christian music, sure- but what's the point in being a Christian Artist if the Love that you sing about, if the Jesus you write about, if the Lord that you worship isn't represented in what you do, and how you do it, and how you present yourself.

Reality says this: These guys have to earn an income. They have to pay travel expenses.... they have to buy equipment... I mean? They gotta pay their mortgage and buy some groceries here and there, too. These guys are providers for their families. They are regular folk- just like you and I. To say that they should put on free events all of the time would be naive. So MUCH hard work goes into these shows.

To expect that they will get to chat with each and every person that goes through the line to meet them would be unfair.... to those waiting in line, that is. They want to chat, but they can't always. There's a person there, helping to move the line along so that as many as possible will get the chance to meet the band. I feel bad for this person. They have to be nice and pleasant, but at the same time- help move people along.

I was that person this night. I had no idea what I was doing. But! I'm so glad I got to do it. It was great to really get perspective on this ministry we call Christian Music. It was an honor to get a look at who the band is via their interaction with others.

Reading Above the Lines

2011-05-10T23:47:00.000-04:00

My 7 year old is in 2nd grade. She's been reading above her grade level, and her age since Kindergarten. We have come to realize that she, somehow, beyond anything we had done, chose to be exceptional. She clearly wanted to read, and- per her strong willed personality, she did. The end. That's our Butterfly. That's how amazing she is.

She loves information. Any and ALL information. That's why she reads. That's why she LOVES to read. Her hunger for knowledge drove her to our bookshelf, time and time, and time again.

And then, there's our Happy Girl. She's 5. She's in Kindergarten. She is equally as strong willed. Equally as determined. Equally exceptional. Equally as amazing as her big sister.

She loves to be involved. She wants to do what her big sister is doing. She wants to do what her little sister is doing. She wants to be able to do what she sees anyone else doing.

At the start of the year, our Happy Grl was one group under the top reading group in her class. Her teacher saw how capable she was, and requested to move her up to the top group. This group sped through the Kindergarten reading curriculum and finished it up by the time we reached the half way mark of the school year. By the end of their Kindergarten career, the group has already jumped into the 1st grade reading curriculum.

Happy Girl wants to succeed! She wants to do her best, and be her best, and try her best.... IF (and that's a BIG "IF") it's something that SHE wants to do. She doesn't want to succeed to impress anyone else. She doesn't want to be better for anyone else. It's her own, personal ambition that pushes her to be her best.

We are closing out the school year for 2010/2011. I met with Happy Girl's teacher today, and was astonished to hear her teacher explain where she had been placed on the "DRA Level" chart.

"By the end of the year, our county students are expected to be at a "4" on this chart. The students at this school should be at a "6" due to the nature our curriculum. Happy Girl is at level '20'.

(I scramble pick my jaw up off the floor, and keep my bottom on my seat as she continues to explain the system.)

"Now? 20 is the cap. It's the highest that we are allowed to place her. She may, actually, score higher than that. But we aren't allowed to test further to see exactly where she's at."

Rewind to the middle of the year. I had a similar conversation with Butterfly's teacher. She needed to be at level 20, and she was at level 42. I did a little dance to my mini-van after I heard this news. I did a little jig to my car after I heard the news of Happy Girl's accomplishments today.

I found myself questioning how it is that we have these exceptional readers in our house. I found myself wondering what the KEY to their growth in this specific area stemmed from!?

It's not because I read with them. I did, a little bit, but not much. I had plenty of BOOKS available to them, for them to look at, but we didn't do the "every night before bed story time".

Ya wanna know what I concluded? What I assume is the key? I'll tell ya about it next time.

Blocked by Grace

2011-04-20T10:05:00.000-04:00

Typically I write because there are things on my brain that need to NOT be on my brain; some of those thoughts need to be shared because they pertain to the AWEsomeness of my children, and I want them to be written into a physical place so that when I need to remember how AMAZING my life as a mommy is, I have a reference point.

Or? When I need to remember the facts that surround the FAITH that I have in Jesus Christ, I can recall just how quickly and effectively He ministered to my heart in JUST the perfect time just by reading my own personal biography.

Some of these thoughts are scattered and confusing and I write them down and type them out to get clarity: writing takes the puzzle that is inside my head and lays out the pieces, right-side-up.

There are times that I am just SO fired up about a subject or circumstance that writing becomes my ventilation.

I s'pose the reasons to my passion for writing are actually too varied to continue pointing out WHY-IT-IS that I write.

Lately- I've lost that passion and drive; I am in neutral....
I know it still exist inside of me. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't want to park my rear on my couch, plop my notebook in my lap and go to that place of quiet chaos inside my thoughts so that I can remove the chaos and sit inside the quiet.

Writing is my therapy. It is FOR ME, and only for me. I don't write to please anyone; but I do share what I write, because I know that somehow- in my reality- there is someone out there that has been where I am, and has felt what I've felt. It's because I've read so many of my own thoughts and feelings inside someone else's writing that I decided to share the depths of my joys and sorrows, thus removing the "lie" that tries to convince all of us that we are alone, and totally alone, in how we are experiencing this life.

I "figure stuff out" when I write. EVERY time I write- I discover SOMETHING.

I think this is why I've temporarily lost that passion. I DO NOT NEED to discover anything new right now. I can't handle another revelation. My brain goes into auto-analyze mode, and without trying to, I "figure stuff out".

Like? Just now. I figured out WHY I haven't been writing. Just a few sentences ago, the answer to my rambling question was answered. I'm NOT blocked. I'm numb. I'm worn out. I'm NOT available to take on anything new. I didn't PLAN on writing that. It came to me AS I was typing.

I started writing this post JUST TO FIGURE out why I haven't wanted to write. Why have I been blocked? Just when I need to use my own personal therapy, in the season that I need to make sure that confusion is REMOVED completely, in this time frame that typically- writing would have been my "saving grace"- I have been incapable of holding my thoughts together long enough to empty them out.

The truth is- I've been blocked by Grace. God chose to remove my ability so that I could simply ReST in HIS understanding, and HIS truth, and HIS way. He didn't need me to figure this out. He didn't (doesn't) WANT me to figure this out. HE wants me to sit still.

He wants me to sit still.

HE. WANTS. ME. TO. SIT. STILL.

I once asked a hard question to a person while we were both in the company of a wise man- and JUST as that person was about to answer the question, the wise man stepped in, held his hand up as though he was blocking a flying object from my face and said:
"NO! No. Do NOT answer that."
And the wise man looked at me and said "YOU CAN NOT handle the answer. I know you WANT to know it. I know you do. But. You can't handle hearing it right now."

And he was right.

I wanted the answer. I WANTED it. But I couldn't handle it.

That's GRACE.

Not getting what we want, because GOD knows we can't handle it.
Not getting what we deserve.....
Not getting what we (think) we need.....

Grace is not getting to write, so that I won't get answers to questions that I am not ready to know.

Shaken

2011-04-18T22:16:00.000-04:00

How can life change so swiftly? How can what what we had planned and driven toward get so quickly shaken?

I. Am. Shaken.

I don't have the liberty to freely and openly talk about what is so crapped out.... but I can say that I could write a thousand songs based on the curve ball I got tossed.

I should have stuck with guitar lessons. And taken vocal lessons. At this point, my rear could be sitting at the Blue Bird Cafe attracting a mass of would-be song buyers based on what I could write about.

Dang.

Career Day.

2011-04-09T23:32:00.000-04:00

The time has come; this chick needs a career.

Narrowing it down is the hard part! I know that WHATEVER I do, I can do it awesome. I'm not floating my boat- I'm being honest. If I "believe" in it- I can do it.

The though of becoming a counselor sincerely grips me. The idea of guiding and helping and hoping alongside fellow man... JUST THE IDEA of it brings a sense of fulfilment.

But then again- I have a natural knack for marketing. I'm able to see the best in a business and come up with ideas to market that company. I have made up hundreds of marketing slogans in my mind for various companies, wishing I knew the person in charge of marketing so that I could "gift" them my ideas.

And then there's writing.... perhaps I should pursue a career in writing? I love it. I get gratification from it. It makes me happy.....

Public Relations! Specifically in the media industry.... oh-how-awesome it would be to be that "person" behind the scenes talking about, and talking up, and writing about, and showcasing.....

It's time to start a career. What kind of career day do they offer for 30 year old stay-at-home mom's that have a desire to pursue their dreams?

Shedding the Plastic

2011-03-27T12:20:00.000-04:00

I am in LOVE with Jesus. I am in forever awe of our Mighty God.

But I am a sucky Christian.

I know the Truth and love the Truth.... yet I can so quickly walk away from it?! I don't understand that.

God spoke to me. "I'm going to remove that obstacle, Amber. I'm going to."

And my actions all but call my Savior a liar. He promised, so that means I should park my rear and wait. Right?
That's what I would tell you. I would say- "Be still. Wait on the Lord!". And I would believe it passionately with everything in me. I would pray for you and hope for you and encourage you to "Wait on the Lord.".

Why can't I do that for myself? Why can't I wait? Why can't I be still in the Promise that He made to me?

If I'm going to be transparent, I'll have to explain my heart condition: I. Am. Angry.

I'm so mad. And so stinking bitter about circumstances that continue to rear their ugly head in front of the path that I am so desperately trying to stay on.

I'm fed up. I know that I'm battling a spiritual issue, but find myself constantly telling the "flesh" to put up it's dukes so that I can beat THE HELL out of it.

I know what the Bible says.

I know!!

Don't tell me. Don't re-explain it.

Dang-it.

I'm so weak in my spirit. My spirit is a bloody mess. My flesh is, too- but I can see the flesh. It's all-up-in-my-grill, taunting me, harassing me like a 2nd grade kid 'Nanna-nanna-boo-boo'.

I am raging against what I can "see" rather than what is "unseen".....

And I know better!

My heart is broken and I'm watching myself crawl down into a pit. I'm all but seeking refuge in the depth of my own self sorrow.

Why?

Maybe it's easier to crawl into that pit than to SUCK-it-Up and fight for Truth? Maybe it's easier to dwell in self pity than to fight for my spirit?

I know i need to fight against the unseen and quit belly aching about the things that I see.

Is that what I'm going to do?

Am I going to buck up, stick in my mouth piece and put on my tackle gear so that I can start fighting in a battle that's being lead by the Mightiest Warrior?

Or am I going to hide in a hole and wait until the enemy destroys me because I'm too lazy to get down to business?

I. Don't. Know.

I wish I could write this and say with authority that I'm going to start kicking Hell in the teeth and not look back until Jesus comes to finish what He started.

But right now I'm weak. And broken. And there is so much of me that feels hopeless and lost.

Christians aren't s'pose to talk about these things, right!?

I've heard it said many times that we aren't "representing" what being a Christian is about if we are confessing that we feel hopeless and alone in our struggle.

Well, guess what!! Being a Christian isn't a plate full if cheesecake and brownies.

It's not easy.

It's HARD, buddy!

P.S., Jesus said it was gonna be hard. Why in the world are we trying to hide the truth that Jesus made so clear? Dude, Jesus had it hard! He cried bloody tears, people! We think we gotta pretend like we aren't struggling?!?

It's worth it- please don't get me wrong. In all of the crap that I've gone through, I've witnessed God working in my life. I've seen His might. I've seen His power. I could NEVER turn away from Him.

But that doesn't change the fact that it's hard. And sometimes lonely. And times, like now, I wanna curl up into my self whiney-ness, pull the covers over my head, and quit trying to finish the race.

I don't want any sympathy. I want EMPATHY. Tell me I'm not alone in these thoughts and these fears and this struggle. But don't feel sorry for me.

God has a plan. I believe He does. I trust Him and know that even if I mess up, He'll still walk beside me.

I really wanted to be honest and real about the thoughts and hardships I face in my walk. I want to remove the lie that we have to ONLY share our praise reports and happy-go-lucky good things. We need to share with one another our hardships, too. As Christians we need to be in REAL fellowship with one another, and that means we need to start shedding the plastic and walk this walk in true transparency!

I'm Not Sick.... Just a Little Unwell

2011-03-26T15:22:00.000-04:00

I've tried to figure out an easy way to explain what has been going on with the 'health issues' that I've finally gotten answers to.

Bottom line is that I am facing 3 different issues.

The first and primary that I'll talk about on this post is Adrenal Fatigue.

Quite honestly- it's been hard to figure out a way to properly and intelligently discuss this one.
Thankfully- there are many informational articles on the web. I've realized that I'm way under qualified to explain it all without a bit of help, so I will be using my Copy and Paste skills below.

The following information was taken from www.naturalnews.com:
(Words written in red are my input)

*The adrenal glands sit over the kidneys, secreting more than 50 hormones necessary for life, including epinephrine (adrenaline),cortisol, dehydroepiandrosterone (DHEA), progesterone and testosterone.

Since they produce so many essential hormones, the adrenal glands are responsible for many of the functions we need to stay alive and healthy.

One hormone in particular, cortisol, is extremely important for keeping our body systems in balance, as well as protecting our cells. For example:

It controls the strength of the immune system: Too much cortisol weakens the immune system, setting the motions for increased susceptibility to infections and cancer, while too little leads to an overactive immune system and autoimmune disease. (this explains why I have been sick, and stayed sick for such a long time)
It normalizes blood sugar.
It regulates blood pressure.

Symptoms of adrenal fatigue:

Morning fatigue -- You don't really seem to "wake up" until 10 a.m., even if you've been awake since 7 a.m. (In the mornings, I felt as though I was made of iron and our mattress was a magnet- getting up was such a challenge. This made me feel terrible about myself. I felt lazy.)
Afternoon "low" (feelings of sleepiness or clouded thinking) from 2 to 4 p.m. (My mind could NOT focus on anything. It wasn't just cloudy, it was an entire weather system. I felt worthless and irresponsible because I saw other moms and women around me totally capable of juggling the world, and yet- I couldn't seem to focus on the smallest of task.)
Burst of energy at 6 p.m. -- You finally feel better from your afternoon lull. (This is my magic hour)
Sleepiness at 9 to 10 p.m. -- However, you resist going to sleep. (I am so amazed at how accurate these symptoms are. This list is a mirror of my day to day.)
"Second wind" at 11 p.m. that lasts until about 1 a.m., when you finally go to sleep. (Reading. My. Mail. Oh, so true.)
Cravings for foods high insaltand fat
Increased PMS or menopausal symptoms (Dear, GOD! No kidding.)
Mild depression (Check- and I think this is caused by the feelings of failure based on the previous symptoms I'd checked off.)
Lack of energy (Check. I started drinking energy drinks and taking supplements just to make it through the day. BAD. Bad. bad.)
Decreased ability to handle stress (Double Check. Chaotic situations that I was directly in charge of put me over the edge. I used to be able to handle these sorts of things. I used to be the ultimate multi-tasker)
Muscular weakness (Check. My husband used to count on me to be his helper when moving heavy furniture- there was a point that I broke down into sobs and said to him "I'm a girl! I can't help you do your stupid guy stuff, anymore. The reality of it was that I was just too weak to help him, and he had become so accustomed to my ability to, that it turned into a miscommunication (big-fat-argument) about whether or not I was 'just being stubborn'.)
Increased allergies (Check and sniffle)
Lightheadedness when getting up from a sitting or laying down position (And I also had random blurry star dust vision)
Decreased sex drive (Maybe not so much)
Frequent sighing (Sigh. My husband gets So frustrated by my incessant sighing: "What's wrong?!?!" and my reply was always "*sigh* I. don't. know."
Inability to handle foods high in potassium orcarbohydratesunless they're combined with fats and protein (I don't know what this means)

If you take your treatment plan seriously, you can expect your adrenal fatigue to heal in:

6 to 9 months for minor adrenal fatigue
12 to 18 months for moderate fatigue
Up to 24 months for severe adrenal fatigue

Learn more:http://www.naturalnews.com/019339.html#ixzz1HjM6X1LW

*****

My treatment plan is a combination of herbs that my doctor recommended, along with lowering stress and.... wait?... HAH!! Lowering stress? I don't mean to sound pessimistic, but really- I have 3 little girls and lowering stress is not allowed to be a part of my treatment plan- because frankly- I'm NOT able to lower my stress. I've got to learn to LIVE and thrive in the stress.

Raising a family is stressful. I only have a little over a decade left in this season. I wanna make the best of it. Stress and all.

What makes me so happy, though, is that I've learned that I could start to "feel better" within just a few weeks. This means HOPE. I have hope to cling to that soon enough, I'll be able to function. Yippee!

I am so thankful to have gone through the budgeting loops that were needed to enable myself to get to a doctor and have these test ran.

My doctor is the real deal. She's an OB-GYN, and I've noticed that she works hard with her patients to get to the root of the symptoms rather than try to mask them with pharmaceutical drugs. She practices honest medicine and I have a great deal of respect for her for that.

The herbs she recommends are available to purchase in her office. I felt apprehensive about buying them from her, because they were quite pricey, but decided that I needed to focus more on getting better than trying to be frugal and "look for a better deal elsewhere". Turns out- not only are they NOT marked up for convenience, but she is selling them for less than they can be purchased online. That's called integrity, and I felt it was important to note that.

(next up- decreased production of Estrogen and Progesterone, and why that's a BAD thing, and how my doctor has RX'd a remedy)

Kingdom Dreams (part 1)

2011-03-25T01:38:00.000-04:00

There are plenty of ministries out there that I have had ample opportunity to get passionate about.
It doesn't take much to fire me up. If I believe in it wholly and deeply, I'm like a pile of dead dry brush when a match touches the base of a small piece of it. ENGULFED.

Years ago I watched a documentary about the CONGO (Africa). God put an instant grip on my heart for Africa. I sobbed for the children there, who were being forced to murder at the tenderest age of only 4 years old. Oh, it broke me into teeny tiny pieces to experience through that film the horrors of the reality in the Congo.

I wept until my eyes were almost swollen shut. I cried from the deepest part of my belly after the documentary ended because I knew 2 things.
A: I was going to be a part of something to do with Africa
B: I had no idea how to get started.

The next morning at our church, God gave me the sweet gift of showing me why He had me broken so badly for the Congo. A speaker was there, discussing his upcoming (the next day) trip to the Congo. This speaker is from South Africa, and he spoke of the obstacles and the danger of going into this part of the continent to share the Truth about Jesus Christ.

I wept through out the service and approached this pastor with an immediate love and compassion toward he and his wife.

I'm just little 26 year old girl, who knows nothing about anything, and I'm boldly approaching a spiritually mature PASTOR and evangelist and missionary, and I tell him in my fastest and most nervous jibberish that God had JUST spoke to me the night before ... and He told me I was going to go to Africa..... and my heart is broken for the Congo... and "could I pray for you and your wife right now?"..... and what can I do.... and how can I help... and what can I pray... and what language do I need to start learning right-now so I can communicate with people when I get there.....

4 years later, and God has revealed to me that He put that passion for the Congo in me for a purpose. His purpose. And it'll be in His timing that I go, but in the meantime, I'm called to pray. The end. Just pray.

But OH how I wish I had been able to speak to and learn from and bounce off that passion that stirred in me with somebody else so that I could have sooner quit my tormenting over WHEN and HOW I would follow through with what the Lord clearly told me I needed to do.

THIS is why I am engulfed in a passionate FIRE for Kingdom Dreams.

How many of us need that support, and direction, and encouragement when we are trying to find our place inside the pursuit of our dreams?

Here's the link to learn more.

Intercession

2011-03-24T21:57:00.000-04:00

I continually find myself amazed by how miraculous our God is.

Periodically, I randomly get "pressing" to pray for 'random' people. Most of the time- it's folks that I'm not in direct relationship with. Once- it was for Katy Perry. Ya. I'm not kidding. I all but wept praying for Teenage Dream girl. Every once in a while I hear a song she sings, and I go into auto-pray mode. "God, speak to her. Lord- bring her back to you...."

I have some friends that I don't see very often and (thanks to Facebook) I see their name/face/status update and I just go a little fruity for a few minutes and start praying. Sometimes I pray things that make NO SENSE and I feel thankful that nobody can hear my conversation with the Lord.

Once- I felt prompted to pray for a family member and I said "SO? I feel like I should pray for you...." and I stuck my hand on my husband's shoulder while my husband put his hand on this person's shoulder and I just started praying-my-heart-out. It was so out-of-the-norm that afterward, said family member commented to my husband "Ok? That was really weird." And the truth is was really weird. It's not normal.
It's not typical. We live in a private, hands off, don't get in my business world.... stepping out of that norm is super-duper-out-of-the-ordinary.

What is so miraculous about our Father is that HE will go to great lengths to lift up and reach His beloved children. I've been so encouraged by the pressing that has come onto me to pray for others, because I know that if He is using me to pray for other people.....by golly- He's using OTHER people to pray for me, too. Whoo-Hoo. How amazing!?! I know that random people pray for me.
I am not guessing. I KNOW they are.

I mean? I've gone from happy singing in my car to all out weeping (snot-pouring-hiccup-weeping) for somebody else because my heart was saturated with unexplained heaviness....

He loves us.
So compassionately.
So PURELY.
So deeply
   and honestly
   and generously.
   and truly.

I Used to Be Me

2011-03-21T00:21:00.001-04:00

I used to have giddy, goofy, dorky, laugh-til-I-almost peed-myself moments. Out of nowhere, for absolutely NO good reason at all- I'd jump into "I'm such a big DORK" mode and act-a-fool.

I miss that relaxation. Laughter is the best medicine? Hook me up to an IV please. I know it's a season, and I know it's a tough one to be living in right now, but I am missing out on my use-to-be ability to be a free spirit. I'm still tired and foggy-minded, and slow to gain energy and emotionally blah and high and low. There hasn't been much room for giddy-goofy dorky me.

That person is still in me, though. The 20 year old that didn't have any real responsibilities. The younger me that didn't overly concern myself with when laundry was going to get done, because mine was the only load that needed to be washed, or what to cook for dinner, because a bag of Cheetos would do just fine. There's still a non-sleep deprived human being living in me somewhere- somewhere- somewhere?

Taking care of a family is the MOST thankless job that could ever exist. We know this to be true. There is no reward for being a parent. Nothing tangible. Nothing concrete. We can't assure ourselves that our children are going to grow up to be well-rounded individuals. For GOODNESS sake, that may be the very reason my head is half-gray at 30; fear and stress over whether or not I'm accomplishing much-of-anything good in my motherhood?

It's easy to become consumed. I talk about this more than I should, but it's just the plain-ol-ugly truth. It's hard-HARD hard so-dang-hard to do this parent thing. This mom thing is just hard.

I've never been a 'working' (outside the house) mom, but there are times I wish I had chosen that road. To be out of our house, working a job that thanked me for my efforts with a pay check and an annual review complete with a written report that stated how awesome I was, and in what ways I can improve.

Wouldn't that be great?! To have an annual review of our parenting?
"Well, Mommy? I've been really happy with breakfast and lunch... but dinner needs some work. Lighten up a bit on the garlic, and serve more chocolate... Oh, and the way you helped me deal with that girl from school that called me a poo-poo head- that was great! It really helped me to hear that I am really NOT a poo-poo head, and that I shouldn't worry about somebody saying that I am..."

I think that's the toughest part. I don't know how I'm doing. I don't know WHAT I'm doing. I don't know what the results are going to be, I don't know where I'm failing or how I'm failing or how I'm excelling or.... anything!

It's hard to relax when the lives of 3 human beings are on my shoulder. There are times that the tension in my heart is so great that I literally find myself holding my hand to my chest, wondering if God made some huge mistake in giving me these children.

And, as I write this, He reminds me that I have to be willing to turn THEM over to HIM, trusting that HE will take care of the short-comings that I am sure to meet in raising these girls. I can't be perfect. They won't be perfect. I have to hand them over..... I have to STOP being insane and stressed and gray-hair-breeding.

I need to be the way I use to.... or something close to it. Serious, yet Dorky.... Giddy and Goofy... with a hint of Structure and a side of Carefree.

Taking care of one's self is harder to do when that self has 3 other little lives to care for.

I forgot that I use to be me....

Tell Me I'm Amazing

2011-03-20T23:11:00.000-04:00

"Look at me! Lookatmeeeeee!!!! Look what I can do! See?! See!?! See!" as my 5 year old, curly blonde haired, gorgeous and stunning blue eyed sweetness twirls around the living room.

Remember doing that when you were a kid?

I do.

I remember doing the lamest and goofiest, non-awesomest things when I was younger, all the while squealing at the top of my middle-child lungs "Look!!! LooK!!!!!" hoping for a glance from my parents and an "Amazing!! You're amazing!!" word of encouragement from their lips. Rare to be found, those words. I was in competition between an artistic older brother, and an angelic vocalist younger sister. (I had nada).

I'd try and try to find my place in the talent that seemed to fill my family tree by dancing like a ballerina and pretending that I knew how to play the piano- but instead of getting happy back pats from my parents, I seemed to annoy them more than anything else.

I didn't know where I belonged, and I wasn't sure what I needed to do to be the kid that got the praises that I so wanted to get. I heard a lot of "you're so pretty" and "nice try", but not much of that strong, sincere "Whoo HOO, Good JOB!".

I've been wondering if maybe I project much of my childhood miss's on my children?
For example: My oldest is super artistic and an outstanding reader. We praise her ability and tell her how amazing she is- and include character compliments and gratitude for her willingness to be such a great helper to her mommy and daddy.

My youngest is just CUTE and sweet and super adorable. She's fun (and exhausting) and silly; We tell her by the attention that we give her just how great we think she is.

And then there's our middle child. Anyone that's EVER been a middle child is already putting your hearts pity toward our precious 5 year old. You know what it feels like, don't you? The Middle Child.
Not old enough to get the priveledges, and not young enough to get away with ANYTHING!

Without filling her with fluff (because I refuse to lie to my children about WHO THEY are) I try extra hard to find ways to tell our middle that she's awesome. Yes- she's a great reader and a great artist, too- but those are the thing she's heard her parents say to her sister (they don't seem to 'belong' to her). And she is SO cute and silly and fun (and exhausting), but again- she hears those things about her little sister.

Our middle needs to find her individuality, the same way that I wanted to find my own- and it's a big job for this Mommy to stand beside her, cheering her on, while she finds it.

It's true that her older sister can easily "outshine" her and her younger sister can quickly pull attention "away" from her- so she most definitenly needs extra doses of encouaging words and one-on-one focus from mommy and daddy.

When we are consistent in telling our 5 year old how GREAT she is, I see a difference in her joy. When our 5 year old is driving us CRAZY with disobedient behavior and a bad attitude- thus causing her to get in more 'trouble' than normal, I see a SERIOUS difference in her joy.

All she wants is to hear "You. Are. Awesome." She lives for pleasing and pleasant and loving words from her parents, her peers, and her authority figures. Is that a middle child thing? A girl thing? A personality thing?

I don't know- but I just realized that I can relate to my little girl very well.

I want to hear that I am amazing from my husband, and my peers and my authority figures. NOT only do I want that encouragement, but I wanna know ALL ABOUT why it is that somebody thinks I'm amazing- details, details, details.

Who doesn't want to hear an edification? Especially "us" Mommy's. We are HUNGRY for that affirmation. Some of us may have husbands that are super at complimenting the 'good works' we've done, and there are some of us that have to pull the eye teeth from our spouses to get them to recognize that they might possibly need to be a little bit more giving with their affirming words.

Either way- I've come to the conclusion that whether it be a girl thing, or a middle child thing- a mommy thing or a personality thing- we ALL want somebody to tell us that We Are Amazing.

I'm so glad that God thinks I'm amazing, and that my children believe that I am, too. And (when he remembers to voice it) that my husband does, as well.

Now? I have to be willing to Tell "ME" that I'm amazing (and believe it).

Putting it Out There

2011-03-18T00:06:00.000-04:00

Why do I blog? What purpose do I hope to fulfill in writing?

I haven't been sure of the answer, though I've written several disclaimers on some of my post-
"This is for me".

And as of late, it has been totally true that I have written for myself, and only for myself- being okay with allowing others to follow along on my journey.

My blog title is aka-mommy, and it's intention was to allow me to write about my life as a mom. I assumed I would primarily write about my children, and the struggles and fears and fun and elation that went along with my job description: Mommy.

And in blogging, and Facebook-Status-Updating my "mommy things" I've come to realize that, though it's primarily true that "I write for myself." it's also true that I write to be the person that I have often needed in my life.... The person that tells it all, admits their faults, mess ups, mistakes, and 'HOLY CRAP I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING" moments alongside the awesome and amazing moments.

The truth is, being a mommy isn't a job description. It's a lifestyle. It's MY life. And all of the other "life" things that I face are rolled into my roll as a mom. This "job" of mine isn't designed to be a 9-5. It's a 24/7/365. (That's why it's so hard.)

It would be easier to take on the challenges of my parenthood if I was able to focus on it, and solely it. But? Because it's a lifestyle, I am pulled in many other directions, many of which distract me (and this is NOT hard to do) from my primary job.

There are days that I know that I have put my primary roll (mommy) on the back of my priority list.
I'm referring to the everyday responsibility chart of motherhood: Laundry, and lunches, and backpacks, and temperature taking- homework and instruction, and cuddling, and loving, refereeing screaming matches and Candy Land cheating scandals, and chatting and dress-up-playing, bath times and art lessons, and.....

There are days that I allow pure selfishness to distract me, and days that I allow everything big and small (from Frustration's in my marriage to Status Updates and Friends and Church and ME myself and ME ME ME ME) to pull me out of focus and away from my children and their needs.

There are nights that I lay awake trying to remember what sort of quality time I had invested in my children that day- and I find myself saddened by the reality that there are no recollections to be found.

We, too often, go through the motions of life- and I am not naive in realizing what a mighty high price there is to pay for speeding through it all without intentionally stopping to savor and enjoy the innocence of their childhood.

I've been ALLOWED the privilege of SHARING my life; the honor of molding and teaching and instructing 3 little lives. It's more than an allowance, it's also a battle. I'm fighting for their trust (if they don't trust me- I've lost). I'm fighting for their Faith (because there are so many that would have them believe that biblical standards are "too high"). I'm sharing my life with them, and at the same time, I'm up against "the world", battling for their innocence.

And in all of it- I'm up against myself?!

I'm fighting against my selfishness.

(And trust me when I say that I'm looking less like a warrior and more like a bloody mess when I take a good look at myself in the mirror and try to take count of how well or how horribly I've done in each and every battle I'm fighting.)

I need to get serious, and real, and break it down, and dig deep into figuring out WHY I am so quickly and easily distracted for THE VERY THING I am called to do, and to be, and to accomplish in being Mommy.
But how can I come to a conclusion when I'm finding myself unable to find enough "iron" to sharpen me in this department? Who can I trust? How do I reach out?

And say you're not a mom yet? Say your a wife struggling in your marriage? Or a husband?

Say your a single person struggling with physical temptations?

Say you're a wife, and a mom or a husband and a dad.... and you don't know how to be IN the role your in the way you need to be in it...

I'm PUTTING IT OUT HERE, right now, that it is IMPERATIVE that we (parents, wives, narrow-path-walkers, etc.) DO NOT go at it alone. We have GOT to be real. We have GOT to be honest and sincere, and share and discuss...

I have a plate full of "I don't know's." that needs to be dumped and replaced with "Okay, that makes sense."

Do you?

SO? Aside from a super natural head-butt from God to knock some sense into us, the only way I know how to dump our junk and fill ourselves back up with goodness is to be that "THREE STRANDED CORD" and that "IRON SHARPENING IRON" to one another

Are we going to get trash talked due to our honest struggles? Sure.
Are people going to judge us? Yep.

But if putting ourselves 'out there' means getting a little scratch in an effort to prevent a deep scar.... we've got to be willing to DO IT!

He Spoke.

2011-03-15T01:03:00.046-04:00

I know that He talks to me. Deliberately, He speaks to me.

But sometimes? I don't know what He's saying. Sometimes it's not totally clear.

In a song, on March 3, 2011 He spoke a clear and crisp message. I wrote it down on a large canvas. It says:

"He brought me to this brokenness....."

I already knew He was working on me, but this message confirmed that I was going to get taken further into a place of brokenness, and in His sweetness He chose to reveal to me that He was taking me there.

He prepared me. (He is SO GOOD!)

The date has a relevance. It makes me so sad to realize it, but it also humbles me.

It was 7 days later that I came into a place of slight recognition as to what path of brokenness I was traveling down.

On the 8th day it was fully confirmed. And to be totally frank- it sucked to be there.
Even though I knew He brought me there, I still felt angry. And lost. And empty.

It was on this day that God answered my heart cry when I prayed that He would lead me to somebody that would give me an answer. I wanted clear instructions and a direct answer from Him answering my gut wrenching question

"How do I deal with this?!"

The answer came: "Pray it Through"

On the 9th day I remained empty, despite His willingness to speak to me. I felt myself moving toward hopelessness. It was a dark place to be, mainly cause I had already lived in that darkness before and I knew how miserable it was going to be.

And on the 10th day He spoke to me again. The 10th day was Sunday, March 13.

We went to church and God spoke to my heart through our pastor. Topic: "Forgiveness".

I received the message in my spirit, but in my flesh I questioned my ability to see and allow that forgiveness come to life.

Later, as I was alone in my car, I found myself (literally) driving without a destination..... I chose to drive aimlessly until I had an answer. I didn't know the question, and I hadn't a clue as to what I expected to hear. I just wanted an answer.

30 minutes later I had a destination to head toward- so I plugged the address into my GPS and got on the highway.

I looked at the sky in front of me and noticed how blue and bright and clear and beautiful it was. I noticed that all around, the sky was perfectly clear, except for a single white-puffy-cloud. I said in my heart, with awe and humility "God! You can speak to me through that cloud." I wasn't 'asking' Him to. I just proclaimed the Truth that I knew "You can."

And He did.

I was one exit away from my destination, and the cloud was in my direct line of sight. I watched as the cloud started to feather and break apart. (Remember- I was looking for an answer but I didn't have the question)

The cloud started to form the letters J e s in a feathered cursive form. I began crying from the pit of my soul. It didn't finish forming any other letters, but I knew He was telling me that the answer to my question was "J e s u s".

He wasn't finished answering the question that I had yet to form.

I can't explain it, but those letters, as miraculous as they were- they were not the full message. I was humbled by God's willingness to SHOW me that HE can and will and DID speak to me through a simple cloud. The tears that I was crying were belly-sobs of awe.

I kept my eye on the cloud. I knew He had more to say. And in those few seconds, I realized that I was waiting on God to remove the cloud completely. My turning signal was on, and my heart was heavy. "God! Are you going to remove the cloud before I get off of the highway?" And just as I asked the question, I turned my eyes toward the exit I was to get off of, and then took one last glance at the cloud- the cloud was completely gone.

In a matter of seconds, the cloud had started to form the word "J E S U S" and then it fully disappeared.

I know that He allowed me to experience a miracle. And there are parts of His message to me that I understand, but then the other parts, I can't quite grasp.

To recall the vastness of this miracle is quite challenging. If anyone else were to tell me this personally, or if I were to read these words elsewhere, I would assume the story teller was totally exaggerating something they had imagined.

It's too fantastic to believe that God would take the time to directly speak to me, but truly and fantastically- He did.

I realized that He spoke to me because He wants to speak to me. He wants to speak to all of us.

He chose to speak in that moment because my heart was fully open to receive His word to me.

I've not quite grasped the enormity of His message.

I would assume that He was telling me that Jesus is the answer to removing an obstacle. And though that is the full on Truth- "Jesus IS THE ANSWER to removing debilitating obstacles from our life." I can't help but feel like God has more to say to me.

I need so desperately to know. Though I know He spoke to me, I want Him to tell me more. I want Him to sit down on my couch with me, and hold my hand, and say "Daughter! This is what I want you to do....."

He gave me a message through a person, and through a miraculous sign.... shouldn't that be enough? Am I just naive? Why don't I know what direction He wants me to go in?

First's

2011-03-06T23:36:00.000-05:00

I met this guy.

(Here's how.)

And via Twitter he messaged that he checked out my blog.

My first thoughts: "Yay... " and then immediately I thought "OH NO!!!"

I self-consciously click on my blog to read over my recent post: I'm (horrifically) reminded I had just rambled on about how "being on my period SUCKED" and all this other female-chick stuff.

Dang. Why couldn't I have written about something deep and interesting?!?

It'd be like if Paula Dean popped over for dinner, and you happened to be having Hamburger Helper that night. No bueno. Here's this awesome writer, who writes about writing, and he checked out my blog, and I only had Hamburger Helper up.

Bummer.

Then I pulled myself together, gave myself a lecture about being "me" regardless of who sees "me", period-hating'-smack-talk and all.

So, a ton of affirmation flew into my lap when writer-blogger-dude asked me to do a guest post.
And then all that self-consciousness came back as I started wringing my hands and pacing around like a nerd- telling myself that there was NO way I was even a little bit good enough to do a GUEST POST for awesome-writer-blogger-dude.

(Repeat giving myself-a-talking-to routine.)

I eventually relaxed enough to quit trying to figure out how to not suck, and what I'd write about, and decided that- like everything else I write- my inspiration would just need to happen organically. Interestingly, that conclusion is what lead me to write this.

My title was "Genius Perspective" and (ironically) he subtitled it "Finish What You Start".

I am the ULTIMATE idea person, but totally lack the follow through for all of my brilliant plans. The subtitle, at first- made me feel like a hypocrite, cause I rarely finish what I start.

And then- it revved me up to have another talking-to with myself.
"It's out there now, Amber. Other people know what you started. You're gonna have to finish it."

Very excited to follow through.

Here's the link.

http://goinswriter.com/finish-what-you-start/

Be sure to follow Jeff Goins on Twitter, and subscribe to his blog.

Experience

2011-03-06T22:17:00.000-05:00

I love reading about what others that are on the same path that I am on have experienced.
(For this post- said path is referring to my Christian walk- though it is quite imperfect and stumbling.)

It's my opinion that not all authors have 'the answer' to the life struggles we all face;
However, I see myself as somewhat of a 'wisdom gleaner', so if somebody wrote a book on a subject relevant to what's going on in my life; I read it, and analyze it, and pick it apart, and take from it what applies to my life.... after I've made sure it checks in A-okay with my spirit... AND the Bible.

(unless I'm reading a book about how to grow the perfect tomato plant; no bible referencing or spirit-checking needed there)

One of my favorite "if you're a woman and you're married" books is called:
"For Women Only" (what you need to know about the inner lives of men)

Shaunti Feldhahn did an OUTSTANDING job researching for a fiction novel she was writing, and ended up with so much profound information that her research turned into NOT ONLY an incredible novel, but also a brand new concept for a whole other book.

In Shaunti's book (For Women Only) she blew my brain up when she explained that

"men would rather feel 'alone and unloved' rather than 'inadequate and disrespected'."

Furthermore!!! She touched on the fact that some men noted a challenge in choosing between the 2 choices, because both  (unloved and disrespected) appeared to be "the same option".

     This brings me to my point.

I don't know what I'm doing as a writer.
I have no credentials.
I didn't go to college.
I've never taken a writing class.

I started blogging because I ~~wanted~~ needed to write. I needed to process. I needed to get my impassioned thoughts out in front of me so I could backspace and delete and reorganize them to the degree that they made sense.

Passion is what makes what I do fulfilling. When I become passionate, I write well. When I "try" to write, I write horribly. I need to be thinking about or reflecting on something to get what I want to say onto a screen and have it make sense.

Somebody once said this:

"You don't have to write about something that you learned from an experience.... just write about the experience."

I had no clue what he was talking about. He said something in English, but it went into my brain as Greek.

Experiencing and learning are the same thing.... right? When you experience something, you also learn something, don't you?

I do.
Do you?
Is it just me?

Shaunti experienced the grueling task of research   upon research   upon research as she wrote her novel.

From her experience- she gained so much wisdom that it poured a new passion in her to write another book.
From her experience, I was able to glean from her wisdom.
From my experience reading (and learning from) her book, I'm now able to teach my daughters....
And they'll teach their children...

Experience is to LEARNING as being Disrespectful is to being Unloving.

Rob Bell: "Christian Author"

2011-03-01T17:27:00.000-05:00

I don't follow the "news". Personally- it fires me up, and I'm too busy to put a whole bunch of passion into the things I cannot change.

I intelligently choose to be ignorant.

But? Then, there's Facebook. It's a sort of "in your face" news feed; where people I care about and respect post their "news", or- "the news they personally care about."

So, my former pastor posted this link about Rob Bell and Universalism.

Blah blah blah- I don't care about Rob Bell.

What I did care about what how easily us "Christians" tend to follow people. We (myself included) reference authors as though we're referencing the Bible.

"Well? You know, Dr. Dobson says we should spank our kids.... and to do otherwise would be more harmful to them than to not." (paraphrased)

If I had grown up in a home where my parents never beat-the-tar out of me for being a total brat, I may not have so quickly believed Dr. D's approach to discipline. However- Dr. D lines up with the big B-I-B-L-E, therefore- he is correct, and I will trust his teaching.

Having said that- there are some authors that teach on theological things that only folks who've been disciplined in Greek and Hebrew and pig-Latin could comprehend.

And this is where we (Christians) can get sucked into False Doctrine. We don't know if what these people are teaching is true or not. We assume that because the author is a "christian" and talks about the Bible and God and Jesus, that they are right.

If someone sounds spiritual and uses big words- they have got to know what they're talking about, right?

There was a part of the post that referenced some other dude that got "crucified" for teaching false doctrine:

{these thingy's mean I'm commenting/adding to the original post}

"A larger denomination would take his {Rob Bell's} credentials and excommunicate him like they did to me,” Bishop Pearson told CNN. {*insert whine and boo-hoo's*}

{Pearson} said it reminded him of his days as a charismatic leader of a big church in the largest Pentecostal denomination. His questioning of hell from the pulpit led to his ouster.

"What happened to me is happening to Rob Bell," Pearson said. "If you denounce hell, it's like you are denouncing God. You’re going to be called a heretic."

{Because HELL is a reality ya BIG DUMMY, and telling folks there ISN'T a hell IS denouncing the-real-deal GOD}

“I thought my people loved me and would walk through the valley of the shadow of death with me, but they didn’t,” Pearson said.

Interesting, Mr. Pearson. You thought that those people that YOU were teaching about GOD, and JESUS, and following the WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIGHT were.... your people ?!?!

You thought they'd walk through the valley WITH YOU!?!

That's jacked up right there, buddy. Jacked. UP.

Christians should not ever EVER ever be "PEOPLE FOLLOWERS".

We are JESUS followers, nothing more.

So- puh-lease!!!! Take what people say, think about it- and DO NOT accept it until you do your homework.

Break out that red-leather-bound thinga-mah-jig collecting dust on your shelf, set the iPhone app down, and turn Google off. If it doesn't line up with The Word- it's total and complete CRAP!

We are in the days of ELIJAH, ya'll.
(Elijah's story is in the book of Kings and you can read how he felt isolated and alone in the culture in which he lived. But God told him to stand up and speak for Him.)

Break away from the Christian Authors and turn yourself over to the Author of our salvation.

The END. Amen. VOI'LA!

Handy Man, Honey Do

2011-02-25T13:16:00.001-05:00

I stumbled upon a revelation as I was fuming about the ever-growing honey-do list, and the lack of time, energy, finances, and initiative that is needed to slim down that list.

To be perfectly honest, I was trying to figure out a way to ~~NAG~~ talk to my husband about how imperative it was that the things on that list get taken care of (sooner rather than later, Mister!).

I'm an analyzer and word-picture-painter. I think about how I'm going to present my side of the argument before there's even an argument. So, I started "painting" before I ~~planned my attack~~ called him.

I was sure this was going to be the thing that helped my husband see just how important his role as our handy-man was... the way I saw it- it was so right on- we'd have that list cut in half by the weekend.

This is what I had planned on saying to him:

"If it's broken, having a bunch of tools isn't going to be enough to fix it.

First- we gotta make sure we have THE RIGHT tools.

Secondly- we gotta KNOW HOW to use the tools.

Finally- we gotta take the INITIATIVE to use the tools.

So? Since I don't know what tools to use, or how to use them,

I need YOU to be the one to fix what's broken!"

And then God was like "You're right, Amber....."

And He sure wasn't referring to the honey-do list or my oh-so-clever way of trying to convince my husband to be our handy-man.

He was referring to how BROKEN I am, and how I have GOT to let Him be my handy-man since HE is the one that knows exactly where I'm broken and how to fix me.

He used my prideful high-and-mighty attitude to speak something profound into me.

I don't deserve His goodness.

I still cannot understand why He chooses to talk to me.

But good-golly, I'm so glad He does.

Thorns

2011-02-25T12:01:00.000-05:00

I had this "thorn" in my flesh.

It was relentless; a constant struggle that refused to go away.

I prayed and prayed and PRAYED, yet it remained.

In my prayer, at first, I simply begged God to remove the "thorn".

He didn't. And I was mad. I was irritated. I was like, "What's the deal, Lord?! Can you not hear me? I'm begging you to help me out, and you're refusing to take this from me?!?"

And then I started praying about the situation that brought the "thorn" into my life. Not because I wanted to, but because I was desperate to find a new avenue that may help ME be rid of it.

I prayed each and every time the thorny-thoughts entered my head, despite my desire to give in to the thorn. I prayed for any person that might be involved. I prayed for other people that may have similar thorns. I rebuked the devil and all but doused myself in Holy water in my desperation to have that thorn be gone forever.

I prayed specifically that I wouldn't give in and let the thorn be a part of my life.

This lasted for almost 2 years.

And then, one day, I got to see a little glimpse of why God chose to leave that thorn in my flesh.

I saw a small-bite-of-fruit from those prayers I had been praying. I saw eyes opened, and I saw revelation.
To put it simply- I thought I was just praying for myself, but it turns out- God chose to leave that thorn there so that I would PRAY MY GUTS OUT about the situation. He used my prayer for a greater purpose. He used that thorn for a bigger picture.

Is the thorn completely removed?
Not completely. But, I see it's purpose. And that's HUGE.

The "thorn" has allowed me to gain a new empathy for those that struggle with these things. It's given me a heart for situations that I typically would NOT have understood.

I'm able to show compassion instead of judgement...

I've learned this:
Sometimes we have thorns- and if we are careful not to give into them, they can be used to teach us how to be more like a Christian and less like religious-goody-two-shoe fools.

New Discovery

2011-02-17T09:01:00.000-05:00

My husband left his Facebook open.

I have to admit that my curiosity gets the best of me when he does this. I can't help but to dig into his News Feed and do a bit of "people watching" via Social Media.

This chick friend he has posted a link to a website about "writing" and I was like "oh-my-gosh" that's so cool- I gotta check that out.

And I did. And I'm excited. Because I found THIS GUY!!!!
(in case you're not a link clicker- check out his site at www.goinswriter.com)

He's awesome. He's talented. He's SO-IN-MY-HEAD and I don't even know him.

This tells me something I thought I already knew.

Writer's (or so I'd like to think I will be one day)- have a certain drive that cannot be put into neutral.

We. Must. Write.
As he short-and-sweet put it on one of his post, it's not out of obligation that we write, it's out of need.

I feel like this discovery was a total God-Send. It's like God was pointing me in a purposeful direction to find this writer-dude so that I could realize that "It's Not Just Me".

AND!!!!!!

This dude is not just a writer; he's a marketer. He's a dreamer. He's a creator. He's.... Well?
Read his "about me".
http://goinswriter.com/about-me

I'm frazzled. I'm elated. I'm..... what? I don't know. SOMETHING.

He's written book reviews. And has opinions that he's not afraid to share. And he uses his talents and his abilities to Do-What-He-Loves-To-Do.

I seem like a crazed pop culture stalker, but I'm not. (Really.)

I'm just a little bit freaking out. I have zero near the talent this dude seems to have. I don't know how he got started, but I do know that accidents and coincidence are merely words in a dictionary and do not apply to this life that I am living. God uses all sorts of creative methods to speak to us, and He just totally blew me away by speaking to me through Jeff Goins. (whoever he is).

I don't have to hone in on JUST ONE interest or passion. I have many passions:

Marketing. (love it!) Writing (need it!) Music (thank GOD for it)

I don't know where I'm going from here. I just know that God just put down another smooth-stepping-stone in my path for me to stand on.

Sick.Sick.Sick.

2011-02-15T22:47:00.000-05:00

So.
I've been sick.
For like.... EVER.

I get better and then I'm not better. And it's annoying. And I'm annoyed. Because I wanna scream "WOULD'YA MAKE UP YOUR MIND ALREADY!!!" to my body. But my body won't answer me.

And we're totally poor and can't afford to see a doctor.
Well? I could afford to see a doc if I didn't need extensive testing done- which I do. Cause all the junk that's happening is ODD and apparently I need to get my spit analyzed and my blood and my pee, and EVERYthing.

Today I've been laying around. Same way I was laying around last month. And the month before that. And blah blah. It's like a mean trick. I think I've averaged 2 weeks out of 4 weeks feeling healthy.

For MONTHS now.

I'm ready to either freakin' DIE or get better.

WhichEVER.

But I'm not bitter about it or anything.

Sappy

2011-02-14T01:51:00.000-05:00

I can't help but prefer a little bit of sappy with my music lately. Extreme-More Than Words- kind-of-sappy.

Ok. So typically, sappy-ness annoys me. I think I'm less romantical than your average woman. I don't get woo'd by the standard stuff. I like real-ness. I like open-ness. I can usually see straight through CRAP, and most of the time- sappy-ness is crap. Most of the time. Not all the time. Sometimes it's sweet.

That band, Maroon 5.
Sappy.

Great artists'. But.... good golly, oh-so-sappy. I gotta admit- I wouldn't know who this band was if a friend hadn't said something about them being "awesome". I Youtube'd like I always do when I don't know who somebody is.

Not a Maroon 5 fan.... just putting it out there. Can't get past the lyrics.

I think it might also be cause the lead singer looks like wife-beater or something?
IT's mainly 'cause the lyrics are TORTUROUS, though. I'm wondering if dude may only be able to sing about his tormented heart. If I could- I would like to say to the guy "GET OVER IT MAROON 5. Put your heart back together and sing about 'not-sad-stuff'.

Anyway.

Same Maroon 5 *fan* friend did a Facebook post about Bruno Mars. I Youtube'd him, too- cause I HAD NO CLUE who this dude was.

And I can't decide if I totally like him because I'm into Sappy-ness lately- or if it's cause I like him.

I don't know what popular song he does "now" - but the one I found that made me listen TWICE was this one:

Oh sooooo SAPPY!!!!!

But I like it. A LOT. It's a serious chick song.

The End

Baggage

2011-02-14T01:14:00.000-05:00

Glancing at my reflection in the French Doors leading out to our back patio, and even in the darkness I'm noticing the dark circles under my eyes. Eye Baggage.

And I suppose that's not all the baggage I'm toting around.

Stress has loaded itself onto my back, demanding that I ignore my (obvious) need for sleep.

We've got a few ridiculous annoyances backing us up into a corner- but those are "deal-able" (I guess?)

More frustrating and eye baggage creating- something that's not as deal-able. Me.

So? In the past several months- I've had obvious and crazed health issues.
Gallbladder put me out of commission and in the E.R.
Bladder- not the galling one- the other one- put me in an ambulance and the E.R. and thousands of (more) dollars in debt.

Most recently- my "female" issues have been obscenely painful and harsh.
On the couch. Doubled over. Somebody-give-me-some-MORPHINE- harsh.

The other day I noticed some odd symptoms that were more intense than normal.
We're talking nausea, and all that jazz.

I take a pregger test in the morning, and it said "Positive".
The next test says "faintly positive"
And then the next says "totally negative".

And then a few days after- I get my period.

What.. Is. GOING. On?!?!?!

I dunno. It's crazy. I'm confused.

No human being should be in THIS much pain. It's MORE than pain. It's crazy discomfort emotional harshness mixed in with HOLYcrap this so freaking HURTS.

I hate it. It bums me out. And DANG IT. I'm so stupid sick of being sick.

Little of This- Little of That

2011-02-05T16:34:00.000-05:00

Little of this-little of that

(from 11-12-08)

Random insomnia.
No clue how to cure it; because it's not typical.
Once I get to bed, I'm a sound sleeper. I sleep great, actually.

Problem is: I can't go to bed.

Oh, I'm certainly tired. Exhausted, even. Can barely hold my eyes open.

Sometimes, I'm so tired that my eyebrows actually ache! Seriously.....That tired.
But.

I always have one more chore to do,
One more dish to load, or dryer to empty, shirt to hang, crumb to sweep....
One more walk around the house to ensure all of the heaters are safely away from curtains or toys, and that all the doors are locked and .......

More nights than not, I greet my husband in our sanctuary of snooze hours after he's gone to snore-town.

And more nights than not, I'm lucky to get 4 or 5 hours of wondrous sleep.

Then, my reverse insomnia comes into play.
I ~~hate and despise~~ REALLY don't like my alarm clock. Waking up in the morning is my least favorite activity, even if on the rare occasion I get a full 8 or 9 hours of snoozin.

I prolong the morning routine with several pounds on the 9 minute button until finally I convince myself that it's not possible to get our children clothed, fed, and out the door in only 30 minutes.

I crawl out of bed, walk downstairs with a baby on my hip, a toddler in one hand, and a little girl chattering like one of those little white bouncy puppies you always see in the toy store. You know. The ones that do flips and yap yap yap in their high pitched yappy voices. So cute, so sweet, but sometimes, the off button needs to be pressed.

And I find oatmeal or cheerios or some sort of 3 minute breakfast food that I know will sustain them until lunch time, and I somehow manage to get it in a bowl and on the table, with orange juice even.

And then....

My coffee. In my cup. Complete with real deal half and half.

I take a few sips and work my way around our house trying to get back packs and diaper bags organized, and water bottles and snacks bagged. All the while saying "no, we don't play with our food.. watch your cup, you don't want to spill it. hey now! quit hitting your sister. ... the cheerios don't go on the floor, you need to eat them."

I take a few more sips of cold-ish coffee and retire the half full cup to the sink, thinking "ah, man! i really wanted to drink all of that"

Then off we go.

And home we come.

And my evening starts all over again until it's 1:30 in the A.M and I'm convincing myself to post this pointless blog because I can't possibly get any less than 4 hours of sleep if I want to function at all tomorrow.

Upside Down

2011-02-05T16:22:00.002-05:00

from 12-08-08

At Walmart in the pharmacy area, there are a few chairs to sit in, one of those chairs being a "try me" massage chair and a blood pressure machine.

Today, there are two young siblings, one boy and one girl sitting in the area.

As I walk away from getting my prescription I hear the girl say "ok, fine, I'll go try this thing out" as she walks to the blood pressure machine.

And the boy hollars with envy "Wait!!! I'll trade ya...." as he jumps up from the massage chair.

Hmmmm.......

To be a kid again and prefer to have my blood pressure checked instead of a massage!

BLINK 12/15/08

2011-02-05T16:20:00.000-05:00

From December 15, 2008- back in the day when I blogged on Myspace.

"Blink"

I passed through some pictures from just a few years ago. And I kept thinking to myself, "Why didn't I savor these moments".

Yet, here I am, in THIS moment, consumed by every day life. Consumed. Incapable of savoring anything.

I think about the baby days from Kyla, just 5 years ago, and I can primarily remember the challenges we were facing that made being a new parent so much harder.
We were trying to decide on a career, because we agreed that being home with our daughter was the best thing for her, which led to living in a home with too much baggage attached to it, (to say the least), and an unbelievable financial struggle.

I remember little things, but I can't remember peace or excitement. I can't remember having the time of my life just because I was playing with my first born daughter.

And I remember being pregnant with Zoe, and in the midst of that, needing to find a new home, and moving into our first purchased home, while continuing to deal with baggage . I remember facing struggles the second we came home from the hospital, literally, as we walked into our door we had to deal with conflict and stress. I remember so little about those first few months.

And here I am now, though able to remember the infancy of my third born child, because it was just a short year ago, but also realizing I've missed the toddler and little girl ages that Kyla and ZOe are in due to a vast amount of... you guessed it... stress.

I've been consumed. Desperate to have peace in our home, to get harmony in this teeny tiny house. From the disorganization to the clutter, atop the screaming drama associated with a 3 year old and a 5 year old cat fight, to the spats with my spouse and the never ending to do list.

I want to enjoy my babies.

I want to savor this short period of time that I have to watch my children grow.

I want to get giddy when my Kyla reads me a book, and when my Zoe does something goofy, even if it involves permanent markers and a freshly painted wall.
I want to rock baby Leah just because......I want to hold her and crawl around on the floor with her just so I can hear her little "I'm crawling as fast as I can so you'll chase me" squeal.

And though I realize that there are savored moments I have to cling to, I'm sad because those moments are too few.

Why-i can't I be still, and silent, and enjoy this life? I do not understand why I seem to consistently feel a knot in my gut due to an extreme amount of unnecessary stress. My thoughts are filled with "if only he would do his part" "if only they would obey me & quit peeling the paint off of the wall" "if only I could get this house clean and organized" "if only i ...... if only they..... if only, if only, if ONLY"

Some people are just cool, passive, let it all roll of your shoulder folks, and I wish my daughters had a low stress easy going mama.

There are too many times I feel at the end of my rope,

with my fingernails just slightly grasping a tiny thread

on the very end

(of that rope).....

I don't know how to get to easy, it may not exist

I'm willing to settle for less stress, less chaos.

And even being willing to SETTLE for that, I still have no clue how to get there; and honestly, that freakin SUCKS!

In Case You Were Wondering

2011-02-02T09:49:00.000-05:00

How can I contain it?! I've not been THIS excited for so long. I'm amazed and humbled and overwhelmed with "WHOO HOOO!!!!!" and I want to just blurt it all out and share it right-this-very-moment.

Instead of blabbering, I'm going to lay out the pieces of this awesomeness.

Finding the corners first and turning each one over to show the top side, and then I'll piece together a small portion of a small picture inside one small speck.

Last night (February 01, 2011) I was able to get a glimpse of the complexity and the perfection of the unique "jigsaw puzzle" that God purposefully created for me. I am so amazed by what He chose to reveal to me.

Here are a few pieces that fit together to make one perfectly gorgeous picture:

My husband is an avid collector of coats. He has too many. It annoys me.

His defense is this:
"Well? I need a work coat for the winter but sometimes it's not as cold, so I need a lighter coat, too. Sometimes I need to layer... sometimes it's raining... so I need a lighter coat and a waterproof jacket.
Well? This coat is for church. This one is casual.....
NO! Don't get rid of that coat- it's my working-on-the-car coat... I know it's stained and gross and has a gaping hole in it- but- okay fine, you're right.... I'll just use my other coat for the working on the car coat, and I'll look for a new one to replace the other one and..... "

Seriously. He's like a girl.
(A studly, manly, masculine, mans-man girl....)

We are also super thrifty- (read: poor) so most of these coats come from our thrift shops.

Last year, my husband forked out a whopping $10 on the purchase of not one, but TWO (like NEW) Burton coats.

I wasn't as annoyed.
(Ok fine- I was freaked out excited. Between the two coats, their worth was over $600.)

These are awesome coats; we'd have never been able to afford them retail, outlet, or even on ebay!!
He gave one to his brother-in-law, and kept the other for himself.

It's because he has SO many coats, however, that our closet and our coat racks are full!!
I'm the clutter-police 'round these parts...... and my husband breaks the law daily.

He tossed the Burton onto the banister on his way inside the door this day; and HE LEFT IT THERE?!

Annoyance upon annoyance.

A few months ago I was at a gas station and locked my keys in the car. Sadly- I had also planned on being at my daughter's class party 30 minutes after I slammed the door shut (literally) on those plans..... and my keys.

Minutes before locking my keys in my car, I had confirmed my presence and willingness to help in the classroom with her teacher. I didn't have a way to contact the teacher to let her know I wouldn't be there. I visualized another strike going on my "She's a Flake" chart.

(Murphy's Law... aka Amber's Law).

I hate making plans. It seems as if I'm always breaking them. I feel like a fruit-cake; and know that there isn't a person on the planet that should put stock in depending on me to show up on time, at the right place, with the right things, for the right event.

Something seems to happen ALL the time. "If it can go wrong, it usually does" when I try to put a plan in stone.

I was annoyed. And irritated. (With myself).
My brother (who "happened") to be working at the restaraunt above the convenient store came to my rescue donning a hugenormous screw driver and a coat hanger.

He tried and tried and tried to get that coat hanger to push down on my door locks; but he wasn't able to. My sister came to my rescue and drove me to my house so that I could (search frantically) find my spare key. Which I did, but certainly not in time to get to school.

And I was annoyed about it. And irritated that I had to cancel yet again on plans that I had made.

Since I've had my van, the thingy that holds up the hood (you know what I'm talking about? The metal rod thingy?)- anyway- that thingy has been detached from my van. You have to red-neck it and prop the hood up on it, never knowing if the rod is going to slip and cause the hood to fall on top of your head- killing you instantly!!!_ just cause you wanted to be smart and check your oil.

I've been so irritated with that stupid-rod-thingy; wondering why I always had to have red-neck things go wrong with my car.

Why!? Why can't the rod-thingy be attached like it's s'pose to?
Why does my van suddenly want to be leaking water from underneath the carpet?
Why does the van door handle get stuck if you try to open it from the inside, causing me to have to pry it open with a quarter, or a knife, or (if and when) those don't work I have to pound on it with the side of my fist to get the handle button thing to pop out!! One time I had to pick my kids up late for school because nothing worked, and with out the handle button popped out- the van door wouldn't close. Sigh.
Why can't I have a spare tire like a normal person. Instead of having to drive on my spare tire because the other tire's rim got bent when I hit a pothole, and we can't afford a new rim?!?!
Why do I have 3 different tire brands on my car, causing the van to scare-the-poodle out of me when I drive in the rain?
I don't know why.... but after last night- I kind of got a glimpse.

These are the things that I complain and whine about.
This is my heart condition. Bratty. Whiney. Unthankful.

Last night changed a lot of that.
Next blog I'm going to piece together this (whiney) puzzle, and explain why it is that I feel a new hope toward being changed forever.

I am truly thankful for a redneck car, and a husband that leaves his coat on the banister, I'm thankful that my keys got locked in my car, and that I'm a flakey flake that seems to fall under Murphy's Law more often than I'd ever choose to.

In case you were wondering:

I. Am. So. EXCITED!

Murphy

2011-01-25T14:16:00.000-05:00

His law is LAME.

It always bites me in the butt.

I can have the BEST intentions and truly commit to something, and be gung-hoed-to-the-core.
And then Murphy comes along and JACKS me up.

This happens specifically and particularly when I make "plans" with other people.

"Ya. We'll meet here, on this day...."
"Ya. I'm totally gonna go to the gym....."
"Ya. I'm completely committed to...."
"Ya. I'm absolutely SURE I can......"

And then my car dies. Or my kid gets sick. Or I get sick. Or I forget that I had already made plans.
Or, Or..... something.

Stupid Murphy.

Who is this Murphy guy? And how did he come up with this law?
Was there a dude named Murphy that always had stuff interfere with his well-placed-plans?

I wouldn't be surprised if, in the near future, they change it to:

Amber's Law.

Forgetting to Remember

2011-01-25T14:02:00.000-05:00

Water. Agua. H2O. Or is it h2o. Or h2O?

Whatever. Water.

When I'm stupidly tired, my first thought is: Coffeeeeee. I neeeeeeed cofffeeeee.......
And so I drink a ~~pot~~ cup, and then... I'm ..... still tired.

And then I think: Red Bull. Ya, BABY. I need a Red Bull.
And so I drink a 16 ouncer and then.... I'm not as tired, but 3 hours later, I'm more tired.

And then I chug 60 ounces of water, back to back- and I'm like "Whooooo-EEEEEEE".
Not tired.

But I always forget to drink water THE. FIRST. TIME.

Why do I do that?!

And that's kind of how it is.
I "know" what I need to do, but sort of "forget" what I know- so I do a bunch of other dumb junk first.

Like? A while back my gall bladder was trying to kill me- and I had to move to a super bland diet. And I knew I needed to stick to that bland-o diet, but once my gallbladder backed off, I went back to the junk.

And now? My gallbladder is actin' like a FOOL all over again- and I forgot what the symptoms were while I was all sluggish and tired, and IN.PAIN. these past 2 weeks until a NEW symptom popped up, and I had shooting pain in between my should blades (toward the right side) and I remembered that LAST time that was the ONE symptom I did-not-have.

Sigh.

I forgot to remember what I already knew.

Bummer.

One Thing

2011-01-25T12:44:00.000-05:00

One thing I won't write about. Despite how open I usually am, there's ONE THING I can't open up about.

I'm too afraid to even journal it in my own personal private journal.

I won't even type it out into a draft and delete it. I don't want it to be real, and I don't want it to exist.

Putting it into words seems like it would give it 'life'.... and THIS. ONE. THING.... I want it to be 'not-alive'.

But I SO want to write it out. It's been a frustration for more than a year- but less than five years.
It's been a confusion and an ANNOYANCE in my thought process for way-to-long......

When I write, I empty my brain out.

Writing is like going to the dump for my brain; pouring out my thoughts like one would empty out their 30 gallon trash can in an effort to find the lost remote that the 3 year old confessed to throwing away last week.

Dumping my thoughts out enables me to 'sort through them'.

After I've written freely and thoughtlessly, I'm able to go through what was confused in my head, and categorize it; like a filing cabinet that is morbidly disorganized- and then it gets emptied, and then alphabatized..... that's what I do, um... in my head...

WOW. I sound fruity.

So. I want to write about THIS. ONE. THING. I want to sort it and analyze it and pick it apart, and alphabatize it, and make it organized and find reason and resolve for why it is that "it" is driving me crazy.

But I won't.

It's a secret. It's a feeling and a confused emotion. It's not real and it has no life.

It taunts me and it jumbles me up temporarily, but I have to learn to "take my thoughts captive". I have to FIGHT-THE_GOOD-FIGHT and overcome. Paul had a thorn in his flesh- but he never confessed what it was- and I guess I do, too. (Hey Paul. Wassup. I feel ya, brotha...- fist bump.)

Stupid Thorn.

I need some tweezers.

Wait!?! Make that two thorns.

Dang.

In the Middle

2011-01-23T01:48:00.000-05:00

(This is an excerpt of a blog I wrote a few months ago. I like it that I can go back and read about a situation had experienced, and learn from it.)

The bible says the enemy, Satan, is like a LION.... prowling around in search of someone to devour (Peter 5:8).

I broke out this book "The Battle" (Trask & Goodall) after an extreme encounter last night with some harsh \spiritual attack. In the book, the author(s) put out a really good perspective on the LION-like example of Satan:

"The lion is territorial- it doesn't follow a migrating herd. Rather, it waits for the herd to enter into it's region, not caring whether or not the herd is aware of it's presence. The lion will run into the herd; not so that it can chase, but so that it can watch. It's sharp senses are aware to which one of the animals are tired, injured, or old.... The lions focus is to frighten the herd, so that he can wisely choose his prey." p. 15

Last night- with complete unawareness of the stalking sharp eyes that were focused on my weakness, I blindly stumbled into the enemy's territory. At first, it seemed I was having an intense nightmare; but somehow, within the nightmare, I had a realization that it wasn't, actually, a nightmare.

Typically, when we find ourselves in an unpleasant dream, we can sort of "shake" ourselves awake once the nightmare becomes too intense, right?

Sort of like the dream where we're falling- and just before we hit the ground, we JUMP awake; (scaring the PEE out of the spouse that had been snoring peacefully seconds before.)
If we, for some reason- don't "wake up on our own", we may very well find ourselves wakened by the KER-THUMP from our limp bodies hitting the floor beside our bed.

If that's never happened to you- by all means, feel free to enjoy the mental image of my grown-behind falling out of bed. I can count far too many times that I was too far gone to stop myself from "hitting the pavement". Actually, I read somewhere that many people believe that NOT waking up before hitting the ground in a dream would actually KILL a person in their sleep. Obviously; I don't believe that to be true. Ahem... I'm not dead.

I assume, though, that something in our mind realizes when we don't have the capacity to maintain within the nightmare. I think what happens is, when the intensity maxes out, our subconscience goes "to an early lunch", requiring our consciencsness to take over.

This was not the case last night.

Sadly.

Inside my dream, I fought hard to wake myself up. When nothing worked to get me into reality, I said "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus." over and over. Like most dreams, this one was a cluster of many different situations; all connected, yet disconnected- making the recount completely impossible to put into words.
After praying (in my dream), I believed that I had woken up. I looked around my room- and noticed that there was a distant flashing light that darkened and dimmed our bedroom. I felt paralyzed and completely "out of it" mentally. I kept trying to NOT do something, and I kept trying to DO something- neither working out very well for me. I couldn't talk, although I tried SO HARD to scream so that Joshua would wake up and rescue me.

This was the point that I realized that I had to have been dealing with something far less trivial than your basic "scary person chasing me" nightmare.

I knew it was spiritual. I didn't understand it- I wasn't sure how to break free from it at that point, since I had already "called on the name of Jesus- making hell tremble". My mouth was bound (not literally) so I couldn't scream. My body was trapped/paralyzed, so I couldn't jump up, or roll myself off the bed. I assume- that since I was in a sort of (remember the movie Inception?) dream inside a dream state- that my words didn't reach the distance they need to reach.

GOSH! I don't know. I wish I could explain this with more clarity.

Anyway- I really need to just shorten the rest of this up.... I KNEW I was under spiritual attack. I came to my breaking point when inside my dream, I had encountered far too many spirits to battle. They were all "ganging up" on me; and I had no weapon. Everything I knew to use, was.... essentially... bound up.
It's like having a burglar walk into your house, and your gun is locked away in a back closet or something.
No. Beuno'.

I jerked around and tried with everything in me to scream out "JESUS!!!!' The bible says that all we have to do is call His name. I knew that to be true from past experience. Geesh. I tried so hard. Everything in me was horrified. I was scared.

Finally- I got to open my mouth. Sort of. I started trying to say "JOSHUA!" in my mind, as odd as it sounds if we're still referencing this little incident as a straight-up-nightmare, I knew that Joshua was Hebrew for "The Lord is my Salvation."

"Joshua" worked. When I new I was finally awake, I panicked a little bit, and then composed myself a tad, and began to say "Jesus. Jesus. Help me. Help me. Jesus make them go away."

Joshua woke up after this. I was so distracted from fear, that I couldn't explain to him everything. I just said "Please. Pray for them to go away. In Jesus name, pray to make them go away."

Good thing my hubs knows me. He knew exactly what I meant. And bless his heart- he got a bit trapped himself. I repeatedly asked him to pray, but he stayed silent. I couldn't understand what was stopping him; but he finally confessed "I just don't think I have the right to pray that. I'm not where I should be....."

I KNEW for certain- it was JOSHUA that needed to pray the removal of the enemy out.
"You're the one with the authority!!!!"

He grabbed up his authority, told the junk to GO, in the name of Jesus... and back on to snoozer-ville I went.

Just To Laugh

2011-01-21T12:22:00.000-05:00

As a roller-coaster-riding Christian, there are times I can get caught up in a sort of "Bi-Polar" relationship with Jesus. I'm all in, and loving it.

And then I'm stagnant and wading on the shore during my walk.

In one season I'm praying (without ceasing) and I worship (radio is ON all the time) and I'm seeking God and I'm just IN IT.

In the next season (we're not talking fall, winter, spring, or summer.... we're talking week to week) I'm realizing that I can't remember the last time I prayed, and that my worship sessions in the car (or bathroom, or kitchen, or laundry room) are random rather than consistent.

Let's stop for a second.

Disclosure:
I don't pray and worship as a religious act.
I don't feel like "it's what I'm s'pose to do, so that's why I do it."
I mean? IT's what we ARE s'pose to do, but... it's what I WANT to do and THAT is why I do it.
I love worshiping God. I love talking to Him.... I just LOVE Him.

After 12 years in my walk, I've just recently really come to a place where I am totally completely 100% in LOVE with Jesus.
(12 years!)

Not just "Love", but IN LOVE.

Before, I "loved" Him.... because He loved me. And I loved Him because, well?, I just did.

Now? I'm IN LOVE with Him.
Now? It's different.

I'm not on a honey moon- like when you first get saved and God is woo-ing you and just showing you how totally super-awesome He is.

And I'm beyond the "7 year itch" of being so frustrated and irritated at the fact that Christianity is SO hard and "God why don't you just zap all the bad people and make life better for me...." attitude.

I'm in LOVE with Him wholly.

And to explain all the reasons why I'm totally in Love would take an entirely new blog post
{divided into part by part by part} and STILL not really delve into exactly what has transformed my love to "in love" status.

When I say "I Pray without ceasing" it's not like I'm
on my knees,
bible in hand,
candles burning,
house is quiet
and THEN I pray.

I pray as though I'm in a regular conversation with God, just like I would talk to my husband or sister.
I may be washing dishes, folding laundry, sitting on the throne (in the 'reading room'), driving my car.......
I just kind of "hang out" with Him through out the day.
(I sound religious. My bad. I'm thinking of throwing in a swear word just to show ya'll how IMPERFECT my thoughts and actions really are.....)
This is how I pray.

"I don't understand why I get so mad at my kids- can you help me with that? I feel so bad for being so frustrated, and irritated, and impatient...

I mean? WAIT! !!! I'm not praying for patience..... hah hah- funny- You know that I know better than that. but you know, I just want to be sweeter, and less easily irritated.... and stuff-

Oh wow! COOL!!! Thanks God for all that SNOW. It's so pretty.

.... I'm feeling so sad for my friend right now- she's really struggling and it breaks my heart-

I just want to lift her up to You- give me the right words....

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

I can't believe that guy just pulled out in front of me. Don't let him kill anyone, Lord.

Geesh.

Ok. Sorry- I know I shouldn't call him an idiot......

Thanks for this van, God. Thanks that it hasn't died or blown up... thanks for keeping us safe..... "

And then, there are times I forget... and I have this realization that I'm "missing" something- and then I'm like "Oh my goodness. I miss GOD. I MISS HIM-miss Him."

Like if you're BFF is out of town and you haven't talked to her/him for a few days... that's when I realize I haven't been praying.

Sorry. I'm so distracted right now. None of this feels like it's making sense.
(That's usually when I know a blog post is specifically for me).
I can't seem to focus.
My 3 year old is watching Wonder Pets as I type this out. It's such a cute little show. Makes it even cuter when said 3 year old puts a pair of panties on her head to watch said adorable tv show. Even easier to get distracted when she gets me a pair of "kid panties" and tells me to wear them on my head.
(Um? No thanks, baby. You go ahead....)

Where was I?
Right. Bipolar Christian Walk.

Ok. Right. So I'm all in and loving it. (My walk)

And then I get distracted by 'life' and forget to maintain my relationship with the Lord. I do other stuff instead. I call other friends to chat (and ignore His call). I listen to other music to be entertained (and forgo worship). I'm sort of (accidentally) put that intimacy aside. Does that make any sense?

And I hear in my head "You suck. You're a really bad Christian.... "
And then I debate with myself over the mentality that I have taken on.
"DO I really suck? Am I really a bad Christian?"

Last night I had a TAH_DAAAAAH! moment.

I went to a bible study. Actually, a discipleship study. The Journey, that's what it's called.
Anywho- I went and it was great. And I was in fellowship with like minded women, and we talked about God and Christianity, and we prayed,,,,,,,, and stuff.

Afterward- I hung out with 2 of those women, and their husbands.
And we didn't talk about Christianity or prayer, or anything.
We talked about nothing/everything.

You know what that is? Nothing/Everything?
It's where you talk and talk and talk and it has little or nothing to do with anything specific, it's just talking casually. "Here's my story about this... oh ya, I have a story like that, too...." and then it totally switches to a completely different topic. Nothing/Everything.

I got in my car after laughing harder than I had laughed in such a long time.

First thought: I hope I don't back into anyone's car/ It's so sad that I haven't laughed like this in so long.

Second thought: Wait? We had bible study earlier.... I feel bad that I don't feel spiritual.

Third thought: Shut up.

I know that I don't HAVE to feel spiritual on Sunday after church, or Thursday after Discipleship class.
It's not a motion and a feeling to be a Christian, or to be in relationship with Jesus. (both terms are the same)

Just like I don't have to "feel" in love and over-the-moon about my husband all the time to make it true that I love him and that I'm in relationship with him.
(If that were the case we'd be divorced and remarried 127 times over.....)

I don't have to think about my kids and 'how much I completely adore them' ALL of the time to make it true that they are the most amazing gift I could have EVER gotten in my life.
(If that were the case- oh dear..... )

I realize that nothing makes me happier than hearing my kids belly laugh, so..... why wouldn't God rejoice in my belly laughter?

Aren't we honoring Him in our fun? In OUR joy? Need we be rigid religious folk to be real Christians?

I hope not.
I know not.

Sometimes we (read: I) just need to have fun.
Good fun. Clean fun. Real fun. Funny fun.
I think that God put me where I was last night just to see me laugh.

Snorts and all.

Isn't it incredible to really think about that?
The God of the Universe- the Creator, the MASTER of heaven and earth; He hooks us up into a situation just to watch us laugh? Is that true? TOTALLY TRUE!!!!

He lets (allows, gives us the privilege) us go through junky stuff to teach us, and grow us, and give us wisdom.... but He doesn't pull us into those situations to see us hurt. HE hurts when we hurt.

Like when your kid touches a hot stove and their hand blisters and it's so pitiful to see them screaming their GUTS out crying. That hurts.
We, their parents, are so sad for them.

HoWeVeR: They've just learned a valuable lesson that no amount of nagging to 'stay away from the stove' would have taught them. So, it's a good thing that it happened, too.

And right now I'm praying that I can remember to come back to this post when God has something He needs to teach me. It's so tough going through the hard stuff....

I'm a lil bit nervous that I was drawn to post this blog because God may have wanted to remind me of all these truths.... cause it may be I'm about to go through something.

He wants me to have fun. He wants me to relax and enjoy life. He wants me to belly laugh.
Because sometimes (a LOT of times for me) He needs to let me touch a hot stove.......

Average. But not.

2011-01-19T00:14:00.000-05:00

So I'm scrolling through other people's blogs. (While my husband watches a show about a fisherman.)

This family travels out of the country on vacation... twice... over the summer (once for a few weeks, the other just for a week.)

I whine and complain in my head that we didn't get a vacation out of state.. out of the city.. out of our HOUSE all year.

And there are pictures. And he's pretty and she's pretty and their little kid is pretty, too.
And they look perfect. And I feel sad. (Even though my kids are like- super duper pretty- but that's not even the point)

And I whine in my head about the bajillion pounds I need to lose (or 30, whatever), and the early-gray-headed-ness on my hair (and I'm not EVEN 30, but whatever)....and I feel frumpy and ugly, and ( I'm on my period.) and we don't do fun adventurous things because we can't afford to, and we are average and we're boring and we don't even have, and I really wish, and I'm so jealous.... if we just had more money, if I just lost a few more pounds-

And then I'm reading about the mom of 3 that is pregnant with her number 4 that is dying in utero, and I'm thankful that our girls are healthy and wild and silly and LIVING, and not breaking our hearts like this mom has had her heart broken.

And then I'm reading about the guy that has an arm load full of responsibilities as his parents retire into an Assisted Living Facility due to dementia/alzheimers....

And then a wife that is hurting because her husband is an ~~scumbag~~ idiot and left her for a ~~whore~~ 'nother woman.....

And I'm liking average.
And I'm wishing it didn't take one-single-solitary perspective of *"perfect" to create a jealous, ungrateful brat whiney heart in me.

More so- I wish it didn't take devastation and hardship to make me realize just how sweet and *"perfect" our life is.

*relatively speaking- we all know that perfect is a mythical thing-a-muh-jig

We're living in simplicity. Our family. We're simple folk. (Dear GOD please let me keep my teeth.)
JUST like I asked and hoped and prayed for. Truly and all silly-ness aside. I begged the Lord to let us fallin love with Simple. Simple. Simplicity. To give us simplicity. And He did. We are. But not really.
We're average, but we're not even CLOSE to average.

And I want to learn to STAY content in it (simplicity) sans the sad news, and even among the good-fun-cute-clearn-water-beach-swimming-with-dolphins-snorkeling-spa-enjoying-skinny-person-news.

"Don't want whatchur neighbors got. That's real bad."
Redneck Literal Translation

Extreme Girl (Kyla)

2011-01-15T02:46:00.001-05:00

Kyla. She's 7. We've had big dreams for her before she could even crawl
Well? I won't call them "dreams", per say, more like "ideas". Guesses. Assumptions based on actions.
There ya go. We've had many "Assumptions" as to what she is going to do, based on her actions...

We assumed she would do something creative with her hands:
One afternoon we found her belly-scooting along the floor toward a sticker that (somehow?) had made it's way onto the linolium. Her tongue was all but sticking out of her little 5 month old mouth working her teeny fingers over that sticker, diligently maneuvering the end up so that she could peel it back, off of the floor, turn her head over to look at her parents as her hand made it's way to her mouth just before we jolted up from our seats to rescue her from the germy germs that were about to invade via that oddly placed sticker.
She cried and cried.
I didn't blame her.
She had worked SO VERY hard to get that sticker. We robbed her of her reward.
And creative she is.

we assumed she would be athletic
She took her first steps at 13 months. For the first born, we assumed this was quite the late start. New parents hope for those first steps to take place well before that first birthday. Our daughter? She didn't need to walk. She CLIMBED. On. EVERYthing!
At 7 months, she made her way over to a laundry basket, which had been placed in front of a chair; the chair was beside a small table. The memory is clear- because we (her parents) were both so very shocked that it had happened.
We returned to our living room, where we had left our crawling baby, to find her sitting atop aforementioned table... just... sitting there.
And over and over we watched her master her mountain climbing; atop the laundry basket, into the chair, and then to the table. We "rescued her" down to the floor (where safety belonged) and she speed-raced back to the laundry basket, and then into the chair, and then to the table...
Now? She lies down on the floor to do situps and pushups, and races down a snowy bank on an inner tube, running back up the hill over and over, never seeming to tire.
She randomly runs 7 laps around the outside of our house, and concocts different ways to climb on her swing so that she can hang upside down and flip and twist and scare-the-living-day-lights-out-of-me. She throws ropes over tree limbs and designs a way to "swing like a monkey".... She. Is. Athletic. And creative in doing so.

we assumed she'd be artistic
In an abstract artist sort-of-way. She drew and colored and she built with blocks, and she did all of those typical toddler things-but she did them all so very uniquely. She dressed herself by the time she was 2, and seemed to always find a funky hat to go with her funky clothes. She wore her sunglasses upsidedown, and NO, it was not okay to turn them the right way.
Now, at 7- she glues things to other things and creates sculptures. She molds playdough into snowmen, and then transforms them into "snow man penguins"- complete with penguin noses and penguin feet. She uses charcoal pencils and mimicks a picture I had drawn, and colors stars in gold marker- and uses a black marker to fill in the white paper to make it appear to be a starry night.

Our daughter is reading above her grade level. She is WRITING above her grade level. She is creating stories, and had independently chosen to journal. In her journals she draws pictures. Once- she created a clever comic strip.
Our daughter can SING. Beautifully!!

It sounds as if I'm rambling on how great she is. Don't get me wrong. She is DIVINE.
She's multi-talented, wildly creative, extremely intelligent.... and compassionate and tender hearted to boot.

As her Mommy, as half of the parental unit- I'm finding myself at a loss.
How do we help her hone in on the things that she is interested in? She-Is-Interested-In-EVERYTHING.
And we cannot DO everything.
So far she wants to:

Be a dancer (ballet, please)
Be a cheerleader
Take karate
Do "sketches"
Be an inventor
Play baseball
Take Yoga
Paint
Play guitar
Play piano........

And these are the things she's talked about for OVER a year now.....

2 AM

2011-01-15T02:12:00.000-05:00

I had coffee after dinner. Bad idea.

I couldn't resist. It was CHICK FIL A coffee!! We were there, at Chick Fil A, we had eaten, the kids were playing... and playing... and then they just kept on playing! They needed to. I needed for them to. We had been snowed in, literally, all week! Our house? It's split into 3 different levels, totaling a whopping 1,000 sq. ft. (NO, we don't live in Boston.) Our yard was snowed on, and then- it was iced over; so going outside was only an option for the first 2 days.

They needed to run. We needed for them to run, inside a building that was NOT our teeny tiny house.

Of course, this has nothing to do with why I had coffee after (a late) dinner. Except for the fact that I was there at CFA, smelling their Columbian brew, and not thinking clearly what-so-ever before I ordered my medium (because they no longer sell large) cup of coffee. Not decaf. Regular. Caffeinated. Full strength. Did I mention it was Columbian?!

Sigh.

So? It's 2:00 AM, and I'm thinking it sure is going to be a fun morning as I wobble to the stove to boil a pot of water, measure my (Brazilian) coffee into my coffee press, and wait for it to steep.

Maybe my Tres Amigas will sleep late, and ...... no... never mind. I won't allow myself to ponder such hopeful thoughts. I know better. 2 AM makes 7 AM come much quicker.

... And Then We Were Speechless

2011-01-10T00:52:00.000-05:00

We were in our family van, like any normal Saturday evening. On our way home from a long bout of errand running. The grown ups were done. So were the kids. Chicken Fried- over cooked- DONE. DONE. BURNT WELL DONE!

We had a fun time out; purposefully shopping for snow mittens (didn't find any), warm hats (found 2), and so forth on the things we needed for the upcoming snow storm. (In Georgia. Ya. They didn't have any milk or bread anywhere either.)

Perspective: Shopping with 3 young girls (ages 3, 5, and 7). More than 3 hours.

Not serene. Slightly painful.

The grown ups said, "Ok. There is NO talking in this car. None. No. One. Is. Talking! Shhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

Our eardrums hurt. 3 girls. I probably don't have to explain myself as to why we forced quiet time.

This never works. Quiet time. It's a good theory. Good idea. But? It never works.

Eventually, somebody (a witty one) says something cute or silly, and then it's okay for them to talk, because... well...... they're NOT whining or screaming, or fussing or fighting or being mean to one another.

It doesn't hurt our ears to hear cuteness.

We like cuteness.

On this occasion, our eldest (Kyla) spoke first:

"We really need to save our money for kids in other countries that have bad teeth. It's only $250 and we really, really, really need to do it."

Our middle (Zoe) piped in:

"YES! We do! And they look really weird and they need to have their teeth fixed really really bad!!."

Kyla said

"I want to start saving all of my money that I get until I get $250 so I can help them."

(prior to, she had been saving all of her money for an iPod touch.)

"Well? We should actually carefully consider saving money for your teeth just in case you need braces, baby." (Sigh..... )

Kyla replied:

"No, Mommy. I don't want to just think of myself. I want to help those kids. They really need our help, Mommy."

(My head is hanging lower and higher all at the same time as I write this.

Ashamed that I was so selfish. Proud that she was firmly selfless.)

"So, what exactly are you talking about? They need their teeth fixed? What do you mean?"

Both girls explained that it was in a magazine I had laying on our couch (you can call it a sofa if you want) and they'd show us the picture when we got home.

Several months ago I bought a Good Housekeeping magazine.

I never read it.

Forgot that I had it.

Maybe I had stuck in the bathroom?

They found the magazine and skimmed it over.

Toward the back they saw a picture that looked something like this:

HOW OFTEN TO YOU GET A CHANCE

TO SAVE A CHILD'S LIFE FOR $250?

We got home and they enthusiastically showed us their treasure, as if pointing out a new toy that they so desperately wanted; their eyes were filled with anticipation and hope: Can we, Can we, Can we PLEASE!?

And then we were speechless.

Us grownups. Us know-it-alls.

Us "quiet in the car there is NO talking".

We were blown away. We were in awe and humiliated.

Alright. Forget the past tense- I am still blown away.

We are STILL speechless. Still in a state of "Wow?"

Our kids? Our girls? These are ours?

Nope. They're not. Well? They are. But- no. And yes. It's yes and no. The are- but not fully.

We did this whole "Dear God, these are YOUR kids on loan to us. They belong to You. Use them. Teach them. Mold them. Get us out of the way if need be. Thank You for allowing us the pleasure of raising them.... ." and- stuff- like- that- kind- of- prayer.

IT wasn't a one time prayer. It's one of those 'without ceasing' prayers.

Especially when we're really roughing it: "Lord!? These are YOUR children... tell. us. what. to. do. We are FAILING. We gave them to YOU, remember?! Helllllllppppp. US!!!!!!!!!!"

Ya. It makes more sense to me now that I'm writing it all down. God took us up on our offer. We opened our hands and let them go- over to Better Hands where they belong. And HE is using THEM to minister to US!

Are YOU speechless?

I Am.

So we have a jar.

And I'm so stoked to follow my children on their journey of giving. I'm gonna take some notes.

I'm sure they're gonna teach me a thing or two.....

Surprise!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-01-04T23:09:00.000-05:00

We spoke of how much we wanted it. (He more than I.)
"Well? It'd be a lot of work...." "I know!!! But it'd be really nice to have...."
Ya. We talked about. But no plans were made.

I decided to just go ahead and do it!!! It would be a surprise.
(I'm giddy... excited to surprise him.).

After school I let my 7 and 5 year old in on the secret.
"Shhhhh. Make sure you keep quiet. Don't say anything about it, okay?!"
"OK MOMMY!!! WE WON'T SAY A THING!!!!"
We worked hard on our special surprise; I more than they.
It was sweeter to have helping hands ~~in my way~~ so that it could be "from them", "for him".

He was going to be late getting home.
We hid every-single-possible-ounce of evidence as to what his surprise might be.

The girls were instructed "We can't show him until AFTER dinner. Right? Don't say anything til' after OK?"
"OK MOMMY!! WE WON'T SAY A THING!!!!!!"

To make it even sneakier, each girl colored a picture for their Daddy, so that when he came home we could announce "We have a surprise! FOR YOU!!!" and then gift him with their uniquely creative art.

"SHHhhhhh. Zoe, quit talking about what his surprise is. When he comes home, we're going to give him his pictures, but DON'T FORGET we aren't going to tell him what his surprise is until after dinner."

"OK MOMMY!!! I WON'T SAY A THING!!! I promise. I won't tell him. Ok?! Don't WORRY."

He was later than we thought- so we started eating before he came home.
It was very late for little girls that needed to be snuggled in bed an hour after.
Secret smiles were passed back and forth; fingers to lips when we saw the truck pulling into our drive way. "Shhhhh. Don't tell....."

Squeals and excitement when he opened the door,
"DADD-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!"
Kyla is a fantastic secret keeper. She loves surprises. She had her picture ready to hand over, and a secret smile pursed onto her oh-so-precious lips.

And Zoe. She had already lost her picture.
She was the first to greet him at the door.......
"WE-HAVE-A-SURPRISE-FOR-YOU-AND-IT'S-CAKE, DADDY!! WE-MADE-IT-FORYOU."

(Sigh.)

She was too bouncy and smiley and excited and overjoyed for us to convince him otherwise.
We tried.
Kyla had drawn him a beautiful picture of cake.
"Oh. Ya. See! Look. Kyla colored you a picture of cake...."

His grin made it apparent that he wasn't buying it.

But it was, indeed, a special home-made cake. For him (ahem... and them, the girls).
And we made it together for him.
And we knew exactly what his very favorite cake was.
Chocolate. With chocolate. And a lot more chocolate.

Zoe cut open the mix.
Kyla cracked the eggs.
Zoe measured the water.
Kyla retold yesterdays joke as she was whisking the eggs and oil and water together:
"What does a chef do when he's angry?" "He beats the eggs and WHIPS the cream."
I laughed again. She's so witty.

I made the icing.
No recipe, and a lot of "Dear Jesus please make this the yummiest icing we've ever tasted."

The girls licked the spoons and confirmed that God hears us when we pray; big or small.

And it was sweet. The time we spent together.... The surprise that we made just for him....

Oh!!! The Cake, too. It was sweet. Yummy. And Delicious.

For Real This Time.....

2011-01-03T00:53:00.000-05:00

A long time ago, the gym was my sanctuary. I used it to zone out.
And I did.
I zoned out like I'd never been able to zone out before.

I'd put my earphones in, and walk through a tunnel; there was no one around me, behind me, or in front of me. It felt as if I were alone; it felt as if it were quiet, and the world seemed still-
(despite the loud-as-I-could-get-it music blaring in my ear drums, and the clusters of people around me.)

I dropped my kids off at child-watch, and my things into a locker- I found my playlist, placed the earbuds in my ears, and purposefully walked to 'word-free-zone'.
Nobody, (yet everybody) was around me. I heard nothing but the words I chose to hear, and it was bliss.

A long time ago, I was a home school mom desperate for an outlet.
Going to the gym was less to do with getting fit, and more to do with staying sane.

I loved how I felt after several months of working out diligently and emphatically.
(I still didn't love how I looked, (Will I ever?)

Now I stay home with one, teeny tiny curly headed 3 year old while her older sisters get their education from less frazzled (but maybe not by much) educators.
Her name means "weary". And I am. So weary.
But so blessed and thankful and incredibly amazed at how much I love being her Mommy.
She's fun, and sweet, and precious, and amazing. And she's busy, and mischevious, and exhausting.

I don't need the gym as much as I did a long time ago, though a long time ago isn't very long ago now that I think about it.

But I do need the gym as much, or maybe more than I did not-so-long-ago.

I'm turning 30 in a month. One month. In one month, I'll be 30. For the past 9 years I've looked 30 up and down and said to it: "HAH! I'm not afraid of you!"
In the past year, I've realized that I'm like that little yappy dog that barks at a great-huge-dogs ferociously;
a whole-lot-of chatter without a bit of strength to back me up.

30 scares the dog-poo out of me.
THIRTY is that number that folks talk about like it's relational to the plague.
30 brings cellulite, and saggy boobs, and perma-spare-tires, and eye baggage, and ....... and...... and......
IT ROBS US of the last morsel of youth we once thought we were going to keep forever!

That's what they say anyway. I know nothing of this cellulite or saggy boobied eye baggage.
Nope.
Nothing at all.

But just in case; for real this time, I'm going to make it to the gym. I've got my 'bad hair day' hat stowed away in the passenger seat of my mom-van. I've got TWO fresh containers of concealer (ahem.... just in case I need to loan it to a friend's eye baggage.....). I have tennis shoes, and deodorant, and my friendly earbuds.

I'm ready. Totally ready. I'm like, seriously------ not excited.

Ironically- despite all the preparation I have, the biggest obstacle I seem to face with making it to the gym is this: MY GYM CLOTHES MAKE ME FEEL FAT!!!

What? Really? Ya. Really. Vain and lame, but oh-so-true.
IT's hard to hide the muffin top in a pair of stretchy pants and a thin cotton t-shirt.

But it's winter, and I have an excuse to wear layers. And I'm feeling older and tired-er daily.
And I'll be DARNED if I'm going to be fat for the rest of my life. And ok, fine-
YA. SURE. I found cellulite. And the girls aren't as perky as they used to be. And whatever, the concealer IS for my eye baggage (as if it actually works).

Sooooooooooo......
Seriously.
For Real This Time.

I'm going to the gym. And I'm gonna for real work out.
And I'm gonna smack 30 around like, like...... like- Well? I don't know what I'm gonna smack 30 around like, but it'll be something really good!.

Convictions and Controversy (Part 4)

2010-12-20T18:11:00.000-05:00

The UPS man came today. To deliver the girls' Christmas gift from their Grandfather.

The delivery guy said to me apologetically "It has what it "is" labeled on the box..... I'm sorry...... "
To which I replied "Oh, that's fine!!! Not a problem at all."
His response was that of obvious relief- the poor guy may as well have wiped the sweat off his brow,
"Ya. It's really tough being Santa Claus right now...."
( I hear ya, buddy!)

Well? This is the final installment of "Convictions and Controversy". Here's the whole reason I started this set:

Santa doesn't come to our house; and our girls know it.
We've told them the "truth" from the get go. Ok. Not really. We never told them that Santa wasn't the bringer of gifts at Christmas time. We simply told them that God had blessed Mommy and Daddy with the ability to get gifts for them on Jesus' birthday- as a way to remember the amazing gift that God gave us... His son.

Here we are- the "ab"norm- on yet another subject, and up until this Christmas season- we've only had to fend for our right to "teach our kids what we want to teach them" among our family members.

Up until THIS Christmas season, our 5 year old Zoe wasn't in a kindergarten class full of Santa Clause believing peers, and up until THIS Christmas Season- we didn't realize just how strong minded our amazing little girl really was on the subject of "truth" and "not the truth".

Zoe's class began prepping for their Holiday Cheer and they were all talking about Santa. Apparently our daughter decided that they were all crazed loons for believing that Santa was the bringer of their Christmas gifts, and she wanted to remedy their illusions by announcing what all parents fear for their children to hear:
"Santa. Is. Not. REAL!!!"

The email I received from her teacher went like this:

Mrs. Anderson,

I have something that I wanted to address with you. I know this can be a very tough subject, but I hope for your understanding.

Today we began doing special activities with the students for the holidays and Zoe was very adamant to announce that Santa is not real. I asked her to please keep comments like that to herself but as the day progressed she continued to announce that he is just a made up person.

By no means am I asking for Zoe to believe or for your family to believe a certain way, but there are so many students that do whole heartedly believe in Santa Clause and are devastated at this age when someone announces something like that.

Could you help me with talking with her about this subject? I respect everyone’s beliefs when it comes to the holidays and find the importance of all of them with every family. However I would just like for Zoe to be able to enjoy these activities with the class without upsetting others. I really hope that you understand. Thank you so much."

I love this teacher. She's a perfect match for our Zoe. And because Zoe loves her so much, this was, indeed, a tough subject. Not because we didn't agree that Zoe could keep her "Santa Truth" to herself, but because Zoe (I feel the need to repeat- age 5) was NOT okay with keeping the truth to herself.

My (careful) response was this:

" I sincerely appreciate and respect your concern. Per Zoe's strong will and spunk, I'm not surprised at all that she is announcing "what she knows". Zoe has a "black and white" personality. She has no gray area.

It's such a tough subject; we have talked to her about how other kids really like to believe in Santa- and that it makes other kids sad when she tells them that Santa isn't real. We've asked her to make better word choices such as "I believe that Jesus is the reason for Christmas" and we've asked her to leave the part about Santa not being real out of her words.

We told her the story of the real St. Nicholas; and Lord have mercy, her questions were slightly tough. She asked if he was 'dead now' and we said "Well, he lived a long time ago, but he's not alive anymore'. And now- she's saying that Santa is dead. It went from bad to worse.

Sigh. I don't quite know how to handle this. She believes what she believes and she says exactly what's on her mind. She's not trying to be mean or disrespectful. It's just a part of her personality and the temperament that's ingrained in her.

When she was 3 years old her doctor asked her if she was ready for Santa Clause to come and bring her presents, and she didn't even blink before she announced matter-of-factly

"Nope. Santa isn't the reason for Christmas. It's because of Jesus."

One thing I can't do is ask her to keep quiet about what she believes; I can ask her to make better word choices as to not hurt other people's feelings. I've went over it and over it, and I can't figure out another way to remedy the situation without going against what we hope to teach Zoe; to say the Truth, to speak up about what she believes in.

She was pretty emotional about it when I talked to her; she said it "wasn't right because Santa is not real and everyone keeps saying he is"- and she was pretty upset when she said, "My teacher keeps saying that Santa is real when he's really not".

I think another idea would be for you to take her aside and make it a "big secret". Maybe you can explain to her that you know that Santa isn't real, and she believes that Santa isn't real- and that's okay- but that you and her need to have it be a big secret from the kids that believe Santa is real because they all like to be surprised on Christmas day.... or something to that effect.

Her teachers response went like this:

I pulled Zoe to talk to her this afternoon.

I told her how much of a big girl she was to understand the true meaning of Christmas.
I then told her how much I would love for her to share what she knows about the true meaning of Christmas with the students.
I then told her that so many people her age truly believe that Santa is real. She immediately said “but he isn’t.”
I told her that was true but we don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by telling them that he is not.

I said she was such a big girl to understand but that others didn’t quite understand yet. I did tell her that it was our secret and that we did not want to hurt anyone by saying those things.

She then asked if Mrs. H knew that he was not real. I told her that she knew and that it would be ok for her to talk about it with her as well. She seemed very understanding, and I really feel like everything has been taken care of. Let me know if she has anything to say this afternoon. Thanks!

And the remedy of all remedies occurred after this amazing teacher took the time to work with our precious daughter to ensure that she was comfortable, and secure- despite her controversial beliefs!!!

This was NOT the norm in these types of situations. Most families get angry and offended when a child announces what "they know" about Santa. My youngest sister, as a matter of fact- who's baby is 9 months old, contacted me about the situation and clearly announced that
"If your kids tell my daughter that Santa isn't real- we're going to have a big problem.....".

Ouch. That hurt. (And my sister and I are close, too!)
But it's not the first time a family member got upset regarding what we teach our children.
And the sting of it didn't burn for very long.

It's not easy to live by what you believe.

We don't think it's necessarily BAD to do Santa. It was just our personal conviction NOT to. Our choices were based on a thought process that said this:

We want our children to believe that everything we teach them is The Truth. We teach them about a Living God, and a Savior, and we tell them Bible stories, and we explain that it's "real".
We wanted to stick to a "The Truth Only" path. So that later in life- there isn't a question about what was 'real' and what was 'not'.

Interestingly, our 7 year old has decided that she "wants to believe that Santa is real...." and pretend like he comes down the chimney and brings her presents.

Weird.

We said "sure" to her desire to pretend, with a reminder that Santa was "actually really truly NOT REAL".... and a bit of confusion in our self about whether it was "ok" to pretend or not.

She asked us if it would make God sad for her to pretend, and I said to her with complete humility
"Baby, I have no idea. Let's just pray about it- and if you feel like it's okay to pretend, then I think it'll be fine..."

We don't have all the answers. That's WHY we have to follow our convictions.

Controversial or NOT.

Convictions and Controversy (Part 3)

2010-12-13T02:07:00.000-05:00

We have some fine-lined convictions concerning our children and their well being. Particularly, to do with health- we've gotten a lot of grief. Specifically- on the subject of vaccinations.

Vaccinations. Ewww. What a touchy subject.

(Almost as touchy as Santa Claus- but we'll get to that soon enough).

First born children are, for lack of a better term, sort of the guinea pigs. We try and fail and tweek and readjust parental structures based off of Numero Uno, don't we?

In our case, I was 22 when our first born daughter graced the world with her sweet, tender presence. I questioned no one, and thought reading "up" on parenting was not a necessity. I mean? I was born to have babies- I'd figure it out, right?!

Right!

Hah! Hah!

We did all the things our doctors told us to do; them being the experts and all.... obeying their instruction wasn't an option- was it?

I had a friend that was deeply involved in natural health and wellness, and didn't vaccinate her newborn.

I thought she was a nut-case!! I judged her motives and intellect. I remember thinking to myself (as I was holding my 9 month old on my hip) "Wow. She'll find out how wrong she is when it's too late!"

Secretly I'm squeezing my daughter a bit closer to me, proud of our decision to parent her the right way, and choosing to be intelligent parents and giving her all of her vaccinations!

3 months and hours upon hours of research later, and I am finding myself at our pediatricians office explaining to him why it is that we are choosing not to allow them to give our daughter vaccinations from that point on.

I won't get into the "why" we came to our decision. Honestly, it's not important to touch on that. I'm not an educator, and this isn't a soap box I'm willing to chisel out and stand atop just yet.

There are books, and articles, and internet searches at the tips of all of our fingers- and anyone who'd like to look into whether vaccinations are right for their family have this available to them. Aside from that- my brain lost it's sponge soaking ability long, long ago; I read, and then I conclude- but afterward forget what brought me to said conclusion, marking my ability to teach anyone, anything slim to none unless I have carefully taken notes and Google in front of my face.

We simply made a personal decision, after educating ourself fully on the subject.... When I say fully, I mean fully. I read both "sides of the story". I compared the benefits vs. the risk, I read articles of those that were convinced that vaccination was 100% right-to-do, and articles of those that were 100% convinced that vaccinations should NEVER be given. I found a happy middle ground, and settled into it.

(Funny enough- I started out my "research" to prove my friend wrong in her personal decision to decline vaccinations.)

So we do not vaccinate; and that's that..... we sign our "religious" waiver for the school's records, and we're good to go. No issues.

As a very important side note:

One fear that I had when facing the decision as to whether I would be a working mom or a stay at home mom was insurance, (or the lack of). We took a dive into faith when we decided that I would be a stay-at-home mommy to our children, but not with our prayer and a boat load of "what if's". Regarding insurance, I believe we were promised supernatural health when we submitted to my being a stay at home mom.

I heard the Lord say it loud and clear in my spirit, and so it was, and so it is. That's what I like to call

"Crazy Faith". You tell people this sort of thing, and they think you're super-crazy.

Our girls are, indeed, supernaturally healthy. I don't mean to say that none of them never experience a common cold, or a stomach virus, or the like. What I do mean to say is that we can accept the promise to their supernatural health, but understand that with God's promises- our efforts are also required!

We don't assume that if we were to feed our kids McDonald's everyday, and sugar for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snack, that we'd reap the rewards of health..... I do, however- assume that if we use wisdom and allow God to direct us in our convictions- that we will reap those rewards. And we surely have!!!

Wisdom plays a huge role in following our convictions. If small pox were to become an epidemic- I wouldn't stand firm on our decision without first seeking out wisdom. I'd study the disease, I'd research everything available to be researched, I'd pray, and then we would discern the right choice for our family.

Quacky or Cookey, or Looney or Weirdo are all great words to peg on us, as a family, regarding many of our convictions. We make choices very far away from the world's standards. But we are totally OKay with it. We know what's right for us.

I want to encourage every one and say again:

It really is OK to swim upstream, to go against the flow..... to be OURSELVES....

None of us are the same as each other; nor should we hope to be.

Some of us are heads, some of us are arms, some are legs, or feet, or big toes......

We aren't designed to conform; we weren't created to be the same. We're all made unique!

We're ALL weird!

Convictions and Controversy (Part 2)

2010-12-03T13:53:00.000-05:00

Before our first child was born, we decided firmly on these 2 things:

A. Our child will NEVER go to public school.

B. We will ALWAYS keep our kids in church.

(A)

Never say never, my friend.

Never.

Our daughters are prospering in their little kindergarten and second grade classrooms, in this very moment, as I type out this blog. We worked so hard, and tried and tried to make it possible to keep them out of the public school system; but finances and frazzling of my brain redirected our convictions when private school and home school were erased from our "options" list for this school year.

God has bigger plans than ours. And that's just how it works. One day- I hope- I'll bring them back into our safe little nest, and I'll home school them sans frazzling and frying of my brain. But? For now? I'm positively certain that they are exactly where the Lord would have them be.

(B)

We took a little over a year "off" from church. Worst year of our life, to say the least. Despite our decision to ALWAYS keep our kids in church- we were backed into a season of "anti-church" when we started seeing through a scratched up window; that window allowed us to peer into just how messed up church and the people that go there can be; ourselves were NOT excluded in the factor of 'messed up people in a messed up church', either. We needed to step back; and it worked out for the greater growth of our spiritual lives that we did. Realizing that nobody had anything together, and not putting any person on a pedastool, despite appearances of righteousness.... now we're looking through a pane-less window (or so it seems).

I WILL NOT.... unless I SHOULD

Conviction to keep our kids out of the public school system lead to many many long conversations defending our choice for educating our daughters. It was a battle on top of a battle. I second guessed myself more often than not; but stuck to it......... until the glorious day that God released us from it.

Even after He released me to move into a new direction with school, I second guessed myself. The Lord removed every option for education aside from public school. He made it clear:

"This is what you need to do right now." I still doubted, and questioned, and schemed and planned to figure out a way to keep them out of public school. "Maybe there's another way? Surely there's something else we could do?" I was tormented and pained when the day came that I registered our daughters for school. I cried and cried and met frustration after frustration, but I did it anyway.

It wasn't until after registration, and after we met their teachers, that I found relief from the boulder that seemed to be weighing down my shoulders!

Convictions to keep our kids in church were layed aside when (I believe) God allowed us to be removed from that atmosphere to gain perspective. He called us to go to church, and taught us why corporate worship was so very important; and then He removed us from church- and taught us why keeping our eyes on HIM, and only Him when we were in search of TRUTH is so important.

"Men will fail you. But I will never leave you, or forsake you!" (the Bible)

In conclusion to part 2, sticking to a conviction- whether it be challenging or not- should NOT be an option.

Obedience brings more relief than continuing on with 'our own' plans.

Obedience brings relief. AFTERwards. Obey first...... Relief later.

(Read 2 Kings 5:1-15)

*The king had leprosy, and was instructed by the prophet to receive his healing by dipping into the Jordan river 7 times.

It wasn't the WATER that healed the king, it was his obedient act!*

God instills convictions inside our hearts for a purpose. He's an all knowing God- and He'll speak to us and lay out a guideline for us to go by- if we'll listen to HIM. He determined a path for us to take; but that doesn't mean that He will have us to stay on that exact path forever. If we believe that He's the navigator, we should also understand that HE may tell us to do a turn here, or take a back road there. He knows exactly what each path has in store for us, and HIS PLANS (paths) are much greater than our own!

I'm thankful and humbled that He chooses to speak to us regarding our life walk.

WE don't always listen, but He is, in fact- ALWAYS directing us.

ALWAYS!!!!

Convictions and Controversy (Part 1)

2010-12-02T22:02:00.000-05:00

I'll certainly have to divide this out into parts; it's a long story to say the least.

In the beginning, God created the Earth.... and so on and so forth, and now here we are.
And 7 years ago when our first born was... um.... born, my husband (the baby-daddy) and I talked about all the things we would and wouldn't and should and shouldn't do.

Like? "We will never let our kids throw tantrums in public like that!!!"

(our 3rd born, little Leah, age 2)

And: "We will make sure our kids are always properly dressed."

(Zoe, age 5. Yes, those are training pants on her head. Leah, age 2. That's right. She's not even wearing any clothes!)

Sweetness in the Mire

2010-12-01T09:19:00.000-05:00

Tuesday morning, my husband drove our 5 and 7 year old to school; and by some miracle, our 3 year old decided to take an extra long snooze break as she slept in past her normal 7 AM rise and shine. Incredibly, by 8:45 sweet girl was still snoring when I went upstairs to check on her.

Our girls share a room, and just beside Leah's bed- Zoe's twin bottom bunk bed seemed to be calling my name. It's soft sheet, fluffy down pillow, and cozy down comforter were lying there looking more comfortable than anything I'd ever seen. I decided that since Leah was sure to wake up at any moment, I'd just take a quick little nap in Zoe's bed. This way- when Leah woke up, she'd see my snoozing right beside her, and wake me up.

And certainly- she woke up to see me snoozing; but she woke me up in the most unconventional and absolute sweetest way!!
My eyes cracked open to see the cutest curly-headed 3 year old girl sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her mommy, making a 'kiss-kiss' sound with her lips. When I looked at her, she said with an excited grin, "Mommy!!! I woked you up by doing THIS (kiss-kiss-kiss) sound!!! Heee heeeee heeee!"

I must have been more tired than I realized, because somehow- despite the cuteness- I closed my eyes again and fell back to sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, Leah was sitting on the bed with me, half beside me, half on top of me, and she was attempting to shove a chocolate chip cookie in my mouth. I look up to her expectant face as she said "Mommy!!! I broughted you a cookie to eat! It's really yummy!"

When it's all grim and gray and dreary, and the "life-is-hard-reaper" is towering over my shoulder beating me down, the easiest thing to do is crawl into bed, cover my head up, and ignore it all. Easy or not- I've never had the option to do that. My 3 girls "force" me to keep the momentum up. Having to take care of their needs trumps any desire I have to give up. For that, I am ever thankful.

At this point, I'm gonna be honest, and bare "the life is crazy tough" right now stuff. Breaking it down with out too many details- I'll give a quick example:

Finances are kah-put. Being in the construction/repair industry- ya- in this economy, 'nuff said.

Mis-managing our week-to-week paycheck is an attribution, as well. There are times we really should not eat out, or joy-ride around town..... but we do it anyway. Unwise.

We've created a budget, and the budget would work- if we'd just suck it up and stick to it. Budget (the lack of) aside, another spin out in our bank account happens when there isn't any work for Joshua to do- staying home, sans pay, is especially painful on our pocket book.

With Thanksgiving being hosted at our house this year, an extra large chunk of dough moves itself down our belly's, inside the same week that Joshua is only able to work for 2 days. Ouch! Ouch! OUCH!

Monday night this week my van (our only family vehicle) randomly quits working just down the road from our house on my way to the grocery store. Plans that I had to attend a bible study that night, take our 3 year old to her sweet little class the next day, and volunteer in my 7 year olds classroom that morning are all immediately canceled.

It's almost December, which means we should be prepping to pay our Property Taxes, and making plans to buy Christmas gifts.

Our family life, specifically our marriage, has been in a "growing" process- trying to overcome certain issues and junky stuffs.

The power company gives us a call to "remind" us of our "nonpayment" and just before that phone call, our Zoe walks upstairs only to come flying back down squealing "It's raining in our house!!"

By all personal standards; I should be an incredible wreck. I'm typically a high strung, high stress personality type; I can get overwhelmed in a snap if the conditions are ripe.

There again- taking care of my 3 girls as a stay at home mommy for the past 7 years, I've grown so much in learning how to handle stressful situations. Any mom can attest to this after experiencing numerous grocery store meltdowns, park-play-date tantrums, the rush of dinner time, bath time, and bedtime chaos, and the squeals and whines, and tattle-tales of sibling rivalry.

Inside the mire, I am witness to absolute sweetness.

Our marriage issues are on hold as Joshua and I lock arms to stand beside one another and fight the battle of stress and uncertainty. Not gone. But- on the back burner.

We have both experienced the trials of extreme financial woes, each during our childhood and adolecent years, and during the first several years of our 10 year old marriage. It's tough, but an easy fight to win. God has shown us over and over and OVER how faithful He is in providing for our needs. I'm excited (crazy excited) to be in this situation right now; because I know I'll get to witness the miracles that God has in store for us. And- whoa!- in our experience, His miracles are incredible. Far beyond anything that we could ever accomplish. It's amazing.

And inside the mire, perspective is gained: "What's really important? What matters?"

I honestly believe that God orchestrated these trials. He wants to teach us something, lead us in a new direction, and 'force' a change in all of us (for the better!) if we let Him.

I'm open to it and I'm ready for it.

"Here I am, Lord. Change me!!!!"

Booger Pickers

2010-11-29T00:06:00.000-05:00

The more (or less) I am faced with controversy- the more (and more) I realize that facing said controversy has no longer provoked the "pick your battle" mindset {that seemed to only come as an after effect.}
("Crap!!! I shoulda kept my mouth shut!".)

Rather- it provokes the "pick your booger" mindset.

Lets face it. When we have boogers in our nose- the suckers have GOT TO COME out.

It's. Not. An. Option.
Am I right?!

And in private we may do a quick boogie grab as a quick fix. Or- some of *us* may do an extended version of the boogie grab- naked finger and all.

Some of us may realize that's it's too snotty and gushy to pick out- so we grab our TP and blow the especially globby ones real-quick-like into a tissue.... open it up to see what we got out of the deal... and toss it in the waste basket to be forever forgotten. It's done.

Or what about the runny nose boogie snot? Snif-snif-snif to suck it all cause we don't wanna have to go searching for a kleenex. Though, eventually- the nose wiping is gonna happen one way or the other?!

If you've not gotten beside yourself in gross, and you're still able to read along- let me get to my point.

Battle Picking vs. Booger Picking

In our day to day we do come in contact with various little-battles, somewhat-big battles, and at times, massive-huge battles.

We were instructed to "pick one".
(Cause you know, we can't fight 'em all.) Some folk have accomplished this strategic method of battle picking; but not I.

Not me. At all.
Epic fail with the battle picking thing. Almost always.

I don't know how to pick a battle. I just can't do it. My battle picker is broken. Maybe I never got one? I bet it was lost alongside my filter. They maybe were in the same box? I dunno.

In recent days I've concluded that the big small huge massive or a variation of them all "battles" are in need of a new name.

My personality type says: "if it's in front of me, i'm gonna go with it. Head on. Sans helmet."

Like a booger. If it's in my nose, I'm getting it out. The end.

Simple enough. Not that I chose this for my life. Who'd choose that?!? On purpose?!? It's a challenging personality to have!! (Just ask my mama!).

So I know I'm going to pick my boogers.
Not ignore. Or leave 'hanging'.
Right?

The question now is:
"Do I quickly pick it? Dig into it? Blow it out fast and look at the snot that results later? Should I grab the kleenex box immediately or sniff it out a while?"

And like all boogie picking seems to go, more often than not, we don't actually dwell on the method as to which way we are going to procede with 'operation boogie removal'. We just do what seems right at the time.

Sometimes we FAIL to think carefully before hand.

Sometimes we reach it to do a quick boogie grab and had NO idea the big glob of snot we were going to get out.
("Wish I had a tissue close by.")

Sometimes we sniff and sniff and sniff and before we know it- we are in mid conversation with dribbled snot pouring out our nostril as our cheeks flush purples and reds from extreme humility.

("Shoot!! I shouldn't have waited too long.")

Other times we get the jagged painful boogies and literally have to endure the discomfort until we are at a 'place' of ability to remove it.
(There are times we get lucky and the jagged dirt booger can be dealt with in private. Others... ... the booger has to get out, and get out NOW.

It's almost ALWAYS an instinct of sorts as to which way we pick our boogers, isn't it?
And when it was "the wrong" method, it's almost always too late to recover from the discomfort of it.
So we just have to move on. No regrets.
Atleast we got all the boogers out, right?

It's hard to pick your nose in public.
I know.

But 'Mama said there'd be days like this... there'd be days like this mama said. (Mama said, Mama said).'
And just sticking a wad of tp up our nostils is a temp fix. So....

We have to get our boogies out.

Rejection or not. Disagreement or not. Frustration and defensiveness or not....

Otherwise, we'd all be snot nosed BRATS blowing our jagged snotty yucky boogies out randomly and with out good cause.

Troubles... er... boogers are inevitable.
It's how we "choose to handle" them and that we DO handle them, that matters.

More later......

High-Low Up-Down Happy-Sad

2010-11-28T21:34:00.000-05:00

It's been a long, hard weekend.

An emotionally strained several months.

And one of the worst, most formidable, and trying years of my life.

And it's been a fun weekend filled with family and friends, and muddy pants legs, squishy chubby cheeks to smooch, happy squeals from happy kids, and pumpkin pie.

And it's been a glorious several months filled with fun-time with my amazing girls, school field trips, and one on one time with my speed-growing toddler.

And it's been a beautifully composed year basking in new and old and amazing friendships, experiencing a spiritual growth spurt like no other, and a new outlook on who I am, and who I'm meant to be, and how important the gifts God gave me really are- despite having no idea as to what I'm going to do with them.

I've fallen apart over and over; fearful that I'd stay like Humpty Dumpty and none of the King's horses and none of the King's men could put me back together again.

And I've grown and grown; feeling like Alice in Wonderland, who went from a miniature version of herself to a giant towering over those things that once looked mountainous and terrifying.

I've wandered through valley's so dark and so low; uncertain of where my help was in the time of my trouble; and soon after I've landed atop the peak of the mountain, overlooking the glory and majesty of God's awesomeness.......

There are always GREAT things to be found in the midst of the awfullest situations.

Always.

My prayer and my hope and my plea is that I will keep my mind and my heart toward the Lord so that I can stay in full view of His goodness, despite adversity. Afflictions that, in truth, are less than tragic, but more than difficult.

In realizing how conditional the terms are to which I am willing to give love and show love; I've also realized that God hasn't been excluded from this "condition". (Cringe!)

When life is grand, my hands are lifted high, my feet are dancing for joy, and I'm shouting praise and hallelujah to the Lord.

And when it all turns to hell and the world is against me, my hands raise in question, my feet are stomping in tantrum, and I'm shouting "Why Me!?!?"

Conditional Love for Unconditional Love

"I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today....?"

Give me what I want, right now- and I'll give you what you want later.

I want to stay in check; among the highs and lows, and the ups and downs, and the happy's and the sad's. I want to see the good inside the bad forever and always.

And I want to remove the conditional from my love; giving myself freely and completely.

Solo. Tasting the Fruit of Stillness.

2010-11-20T23:03:00.000-05:00

Usually- it's beyond rare for me to have the house to myself. Typically- to get my "solo" time, I do a weirdo maneuver and rent myself a sweet hotel (via Priceline's crazy cheap-ness) for a weekend. Rare occurance in an of it's self for that to happen. And then when I do, I totally veg out watching lame-o TV shows, and exploring whichever town Priceline had available to me for $35 and a 3 1/2 star hotel room.

I was s'pose to take today and make it a "clean it all up" day. The house should be sparkling by now.
I did as much as I could do, and then I bailed. I've been sick for a few days, so I just chilled.
'Cause it was an option.

In the 5 hours of solo time I had here at home, the fact that I didn't have to listen out for anybody calling my name meant that my earbuds stayed in my ears, plugged into my iPhone, for the whole entire time. I can't listen to music on 'low'. So the volume was turned up. Just the way I like it.
Huh? What'd you say? Ya. That's what I'm gonna be saying for a few days.
Hoping I didn't do any permanent damage. I need "special" noise canceling ear phone thingy's so that I'm not deaf in a few years.

I've said it and said it, and I can't say it enough-

"Blogging is my therapy!"

There are times that I emotionally write 'cause I don't know how to get 'out' what I'm feeling. I don't know how to express what's going on when I get all jumbled up. So- I write it out, and in the coolest way, God just speaks to me, and ministers to me as I type. Like? I'm typing it, but He's telling it to me. It's "for me" but it's "by me".

And I get all weepy and moved, and it's absolutely incredible. There are times I write- and it's pure and unfiltered emotion, and nobody needs to be reading all that, so I draft it- or delete it, or whatever

There are times I write, and it flows so quickly out of me, and then I "reread" it, and I'm like

"Whoa! I just wrote that?!?!"

Ok. So that's what happened in the previous blog. I had these "thoughts" and I couldn't process what was going on in my head. I had the opportunity, so I grabbed it up, and I began writing. 20 minutes later, I'm rereading what I had just written, and I'm blown away.

I just said to myself

"Um? Did you just get ministered to... by your own blog??"

Yup. I did.

And that's how I know it's not me that does this writing thing. It's the Lord.
Ok. Sometimes, it's me babbling. Sometimes I'm talking about stuff that really affects me, or interest me, or whatever. But if you read any of these and you're like "HOLY MOLY that was so awesome" that's when you know (and I know) it was totally the Lord using my fingers to do the typing as He was speaking straight to my heart.

And the fact that the Lord just used me to minister to me. So weird. And Delicious!
I got still for a little bit- and He was like "OPPORTUNITY!" And He totally used that time to speak to me.

I'm Not Who You Think I Am....

2010-11-20T16:58:00.000-05:00

Sweeping my floor, I think to myself:

"What's the point? Why do I even bother trying to clean up this mess? It's just gonna be here again after dinner."

And the Lord said:
"I know. But ya gotta clean it up anyway, Amber."

Not the floor. My life. The mess inside myself. The mess that I am.

I'm humbled..... Something so little, and mundane, and the Lord uses it to speak to me.

But the clean up that He's telling me to deal with isn't so little. Nope. It's huge. And like a toddler, I want to throw myself on the floor, kicking and screaming "BUT I don't want to!!!!"
Me and my stubborn-ness keeps trying to convince myself that I need to just leave the pile of CRAP laying on the floor- walk away from it and search for a big-fat-rug to cover it up so I can just move on with my life.

And this thought-process, and 'action' in my life makes me feel like I'm "all talk". Nobody knows who I really am! I say it, I believe it, but it's so stinkin' hard to live it.

I feel like I'm not who anybody thinks I am.

I'm nothing! There are times that I take a hard look at myself in the mirror and believe every-single-lie that the enemy punches and kicks inside my gut.
"You're worthless. You're absolutely worthless. What have you accomplished? Nothing! You're a terrible friend. A disgusting Christian. You're daughters are going to hate you when they grow up. You're marriage is fruitless. Give up, Amber. Give up. Walk away from all of it."

So I begin to convince myself that I suck, and that everybody that knows me has had the wool completely pulled over their eyes. "They don't know me like I do. They don't see how I really am."

Part of me wants to alienate myself from the world so as not to fool them of my wickedness. The thoughts that take over, and that I try to shove out of my head--- sometimes I fear that one day- someone is going to be able to read my mind, and then they'll know... they'll know every-single-one of my struggles.

They'll know, and I'll be put up in front of my peers, and everyone that loved me, and used to care about me will look me up and down with distaste on their lips, and they'll all suddenly have on black robes, and judges wigs, and each one of their gavels will pound down in one harsh crash, and they'll shout "GUILTY!!!"
"She's GUILTY. She is worthless. She's a terrible mother. (POUND) She disregards the truth (POUND!) She wants to give in to temptation. (POUND) Pound. Pound. Pound.

GUILTY.

I'm guilty. And I know I am. But nobody else can see it.
And I want them to- and I don't want them to. I want to be 'found out', but I don't want to be. I want to be who I am, but absolutely nothing like myself.

And I'm guilty. And I know I am. But my Savior says otherwise.

He walks in with a blood stained robe.
And a crown of thorns atop his matted head.
He walks in with a sword in His side, and bruises all over His body. His foot prints soak the floor, and His cross lands on the floor with a thunderous roar and authoritively He says "She's innocent."

Innocent!??!?! I'm NOT. I'm not. I'm NOT innocent. I'm guilty. I'm not who You think I am.....

But He knows exactly who I am. God sees my wicked heart, for sure- but JESUS jumps inside it, and He pleas on my behalf "Daddy, she's innocent. See this blood (as He holds out His hands). I bled for her. She's innocent, Daddy. Pure, and beautiful, and perfect, and WORTHY. She's innocent. I have her heart- she gave it to me freely."

And I'm back to the mess, and the kicking and screaming I'm doing on the floor. I don't wanna clean it up! I want to walk away. I have to fight against my flesh to pursue the clean up.

I don't have to clean it up alone. I don't have to clean it up with judges looming over me. I don't have to clean it up with gavels pounding in my ear.

I get to clean it up with a mighty Purifier at my side.

I'm not anything like who anybody thinks I am.
And I'm nothing like who He says that I am. I wanna be everything like who He made me to be.
Off I go in search of a middle ground.