Hard to believe it's been nearly a whole year since I've blogged. Two children is MUCH more time consuming than one. And that extra little child is the reason for this blog now. I want to share with you all Emalyn's story.
At some point I should share my testimony I shared at church in Ohio last spring. It even fits the Matthew West Tour theme :) That being said.... all about Emalyn... Part 1.
The name Emalyn means "peaceful home" - we named her Emalyn Grace as a play on the words to literally mean "a home of peace and grace". I should have known better than to jinx us!
My pregnancy was a blessing and a disaster. Every time I went for a "routine" check up it would turn into some type of new drama. Something was wrong with me. Something was wrong with the baby. Something was wrong with both babies (wait what?!?!?) - oh nevermind, it's just one baby. Your heart isn't right. Her head isn't right. Your hormone levels aren't high enough. Her bowels aren't normal. I stopped counting after the 13th ultrasound.
In June, Byron and I made it back to Alaska after his year long deployment to Afghanistan. Despite the continuation of a chaos-filled pregnancy we prepared ourselves for the arrival of our little blessing, Emalyn. Emalyn was due September 12, 2012. By the beginning of August I was incredibly uncomfortable. By mid-August I could hardly walk through a store without having to sit down and rest in the middle. By the last week of August I simply stopped going out altogether. On the morning of August 29th I started having some pretty regular contractions and went in to be checked. I was told I was in latent labor... to go home and get rest and I'd likely be back within 24 hours. That night my water broke and we headed right back in. At 6:15pm on August 30th we welcomed a 6lb. 11oz. beautiful baby girl into our world. They put her on my chest and she just stared up at me with those big, round eyes.. not crying, not wiggling all around, just staring at me. Within the hour she was nursing like a champ and zonked out for a nice, long rest. We were in our own little heaven.
A few hours later I realized she seemed very congested. I called a nurse in who told me it was "normal" and just from the amniotic fluid still working itself out. I didn't remember that with Madison, but knowing every baby is different I settled in for the night. By 1am her little ribs were retracting in and out as she was struggling to take breaths. I was terrified and I knew something just wasn't right. I tried nursing but she refused. I called the nurses in, and they immediately rushed her away. After several hours of not hearing anything they finally brought her back to me. I was told they still felt it was the fluid leftover and that after being on blow by oxygen she was keeping her saturation levels up and would be "just fine". As morning came she only got worse. I begged them to do something. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. And she just kept staring at me with those eyes like "Mama HELP me" They finally put her in a "tent" with blow by oxygen and saline humidification. She started to finally eat from a spoon and rested comfortably. For the entire 24 hours I was hospitalized (yes, only 24 hours) she continued to struggle when not in her tent. They released her anyway.
At her 48 hour recheck we had to go up to the L&D unit to see a doctor we hadn't seen yet. I was not a fan. She had lost 10% of her body weight (normal is up to 10% - they don't like to see more than that). He was concerned only about her weight and continued to brush off her breathing issues as "normal" for post delivery.
The next two weeks are pretty much a blur to me. I wish I knew then how much she was really struggling. I wish I knew which retractions to watch for, which breathing patterns, which signs of breathing difficulties to know about. But we didn't. We chalked it up to her being "normal". Despite it all, she was an AMAZING baby. She always seemed so at peace when she was in between her breathing episodes. During that time period she started having bad eye discharge. At one point between week 2 and 3 her eye got so goopy it was completely sealed shut. When I took her in her pediatrician told us it was either pink eye or blocked tear ducts and she was sent home with eye ointment. Once again her breathing issues were brushed off. Only because of my own concerns the doctor sent home her first round of medications.
The night finally came when she turned blue from being able to breathe. I rushed her up to the ER on base. They gave her an atrivent treatment and told me it was just a cold virus she would have to get over. They did an RSV test (of course negative) and sent her home. Two nights later she turned blue again. I rushed her up to the emergency room on base again. She was rushed into triage where a nurse came in and assured me she was a neonatal nurse and knew exactly what she was doing. She proceeded to shove an n/g tube into her nose. (I know now her reasoning for that was to check for atresia, a condition where an entire nasal passage or both are blocked off completely - if you can pass a tube it's not atresia) Upon taking it out her oxygenation level went from the already dangerous 80's to the mid 70's. She was gasping for breath and turning blue again. We had somewhere between 4-5 nurses and physician assistants surrounding her at any given moment for the next few hours. They tried shoving adult nasal trumpets into her nose. Yes, adult. That caused further damage. After oxygen for several hours and another atrivent treatment she was stablized and sent back home. Are you sensing a theme yet? They told us to just have a followup with her ped in the morning. Her pediatrician at the time was not available so we got to see Dr. Hurlston. Every single day I THANK GOD for Dr. Hurlston. She took one look at baby Em, one look at me and said "Why in the world has this baby not been admitted yet?!?" She wrote direct orders to have us admitted into the pediatric ward of Fairbanks Memorial. She was hospitalized for two days where they ran an insane amount of tests and labwork, to include a CT scan. An adult ENT came in to talk to me after reviewing the CT scan. He told me that she just had swollen nasal passages probably due to trauma (the nasal trumpets) that was probably exacerbated by a cold virus. You would think I would have questioned him at this point. A baby does not have a cold virus from birth for 5 weeks straight. We had plans to surprise family and fly to Ohio and had bought tickets before we knew Em was going to be so sick. The doctor thought the change in climate and better access to care would be better for her. They released her and sent us home with new meds and a nebulizer. In Ohio it was the same story... struggling to breathe, admission into Akron Children's, x-rays, testing, hospitalizations. She saw a pediatric ENT who did a scope on her. He was the first one to throw the word "stenosis" at us. He said she was still suffering from swelling but she also had very narrowed passageways to both her nose and eyes (this explained the eye discharge, too) I had to stop nursing to keep her sats up. He said that as babies get older they outgrow the condition. Most babies outgrow it by 2 months old. We figured out a way to get her to eat and had her on regular nebulizer treatments. She seemed to improve some and dare I say was "stable" We flew back to Alaska. Two days later it was the same story all over again. I called up on base in tears. Carol, the nuse who has come to know and love Emmy, heard her breathing in the background. After her initial "oh my goodness is that her breathing?!?!?" she sent me right up to Fairbanks Memorial again. They admitted her... again. The doctors and nurses there came to know her very well. She saw another regular ENT who reviewed everything, including the CT scan again. He told us she had stenosis, but there was a surgery we could have done to fix it. Dr. Hurlston was very proactive about everything and got stuff going for us to go to Seattle for the surgery. She was released and then again admitted before we ever left Fairbanks, and spent the last 4 days before we left hospitalized and monitored. In Seattle she started to struggle again. The pediatric otolaryngologist saw her and scoped her again. I pleaded with him not to give her Afrin as she had so much she was having rebound issues from it. He did it anyway so he could scope her. His official diagnosis was "rhinitis neonatorum" with nasal and nasolacrimal stenosis. Rhinitis neonatorum is really just a generalized, scientific way of saying she has a blocked nose and we don't know what's causing it. The surgery was canceled because the stenosis was in her middle nose affecting tissue. He started her on steroid drops and sent us on our way. One of the best friends ever possible, Ashley, lives close to Seattle and came to visit us that night. Instead of a leisurely evening catching up with a friend we spent it in the ER of Seattle Children's. That entire night was a disaster. It makes me angry just to think about it so I'm not going to relive all of the details. They sent us back to the hotel in the morning and on a plane back to Fairbanks that night.
The steroid drops seemed to be her little miracle drug. For six wonderful weeks she was a normal baby. She could nurse again. She could sleep again. She could function as a normal baby. That's all the first half of her story. I've spent a lot of time researching the condition as it seems to have such little known about it. Part 2 is to come later as I am still a mommy first and foremost and my little ones need me!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Our comings and goings: Two Houses
Matthew West "Two Houses"
This song spoke volumes to me as Byron and I were quickly approaching the legal stage of our separation. Matthew's album had just been released and this song brought me to my knees and continually filled me with guilt and dread of the life Madison was going to be subjected to. It was that raw guilt that made me realize that all was not said and done, and that huge things could (and little did I know would) happen to drastically change our situation for the better. In the end, Madison needs her daddy and I need my husband.
That being said, I thought I might need to publicly announce our near and upcoming future as a family. Byron will likely return to the U.S. by the end of April. He will return to Alaska since that is his duty station. We were expecting a curtailment (basically leaving Alaska sometime this year) but as Army plans tend to do, that changed. Byron will come here to Ohio for the month of June and then we will drive back to Alaska together at the end of June. We will likely be there for the next year and a half or so. Baby is due in September, and we are excited about starting this next chapter as a family of 4.
It's not a long, wordy blog today. However, it is a testament to how far God has brought us in the past two years. I am so grateful that when we don't have the ears or heart to listen to what people tell us that we were given ears to hear music. And I'm grateful that Matthew West's music spoke so strongly to me that I didn't give up. Bring on the next chapter. We're ready!
Well, Mom found her a new place to liveAnd Dad found him a new girlfriendLooks like every- body's moving onAnd it's, "Hey, look on the bright side kid,Now you've got two ChristmasesAnd it's every other weekend from now on"Yeah, but all I want is the way it wasWhen love would always last foreverAnd families stayed together
Back to the day before two housesWhen they held my hands when I was littleBefore I got caught in the middleSomewhere in between two houses
'Cause these two houses sure don't feel like homeWide-eyed wonder grows up fastTrust is shot and nothing lastsAnd I'm thinking maybe it was all my fault[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/two-houses-lyrics-matthew-west.html ]And will I ever get back toThe innocence that I once knewBefore that Summer turned into FallWhen I close my eyes, I go back in time
I heard about a love that never leavesSo I'm asking you to show meI'm talking to You down here on my kneesFeels like You've always known me
When love would always last for- everAnd families stayed togetherBack to the day before two housesYou were holding my hand when I was littleYou were there when I was in the middleSomewhere in between two housesThese two housesThese two housesBut tonight my heart has finally found a home
This song spoke volumes to me as Byron and I were quickly approaching the legal stage of our separation. Matthew's album had just been released and this song brought me to my knees and continually filled me with guilt and dread of the life Madison was going to be subjected to. It was that raw guilt that made me realize that all was not said and done, and that huge things could (and little did I know would) happen to drastically change our situation for the better. In the end, Madison needs her daddy and I need my husband.
That being said, I thought I might need to publicly announce our near and upcoming future as a family. Byron will likely return to the U.S. by the end of April. He will return to Alaska since that is his duty station. We were expecting a curtailment (basically leaving Alaska sometime this year) but as Army plans tend to do, that changed. Byron will come here to Ohio for the month of June and then we will drive back to Alaska together at the end of June. We will likely be there for the next year and a half or so. Baby is due in September, and we are excited about starting this next chapter as a family of 4.
It's not a long, wordy blog today. However, it is a testament to how far God has brought us in the past two years. I am so grateful that when we don't have the ears or heart to listen to what people tell us that we were given ears to hear music. And I'm grateful that Matthew West's music spoke so strongly to me that I didn't give up. Bring on the next chapter. We're ready!
Well, Mom found her a new place to liveAnd Dad found him a new girlfriendLooks like every- body's moving onAnd it's, "Hey, look on the bright side kid,Now you've got two ChristmasesAnd it's every other weekend from now on"Yeah, but all I want is the way it wasWhen love would always last foreverAnd families stayed togetherBack to the day before two housesWhen they held my hands when I was littleBefore I got caught in the middleSomewhere in between two houses
'Cause these two houses sure don't feel like homeWide-eyed wonder grows up fastTrust is shot and nothing lastsAnd I'm thinking maybe it was all my fault[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/two-houses-lyrics-matthew-west.html ]And will I ever get back toThe innocence that I once knewBefore that Summer turned into FallWhen I close my eyes, I go back in time
I heard about a love that never leavesSo I'm asking you to show meI'm talking to You down here on my kneesFeels like You've always known me
When love would always last for- everAnd families stayed togetherBack to the day before two housesYou were holding my hand when I was littleYou were there when I was in the middleSomewhere in between two housesThese two housesThese two housesBut tonight my heart has finally found a home
Monday, February 27, 2012
Chardon Shooting "Family Tree"
When the Littleton and Virginia Tech shootings took place there was an unmistakable shock and sadness that shook throughout the nation. If you're the average person you were filled with a sense of loss for the lives lost and communities suffering. And thank goodness nothing like that ever hits close to home, right?
Wrong.
Today a teenage boy opened fire on 5 Chardon students, killing one of them. I have close family and friends from Chardon... it was the "next door neighbor" to my own high school. The student killed is family of one of Byron's closest friends. This isn't entirely too close to home. This IS home.
As the day has gone on and minimal details have unraveled I think we've all felt a sense of despair and wanting answers, wanting to know, how, what, WHY. The police, school officials, teachers, EMT's have done an amazing job today and I have huge amounts of respect for them. That being said, we don't know much about the shooter. He was a troubled teen attending an alternative school, known to have behavior issues. Dad was convicted of murder, parents were divorced, friends saying he "changed" in 8th grade. A loner... I've heard that repeated several times throughout the day. Speculations of a fight between the students shot and this boy over jilted lover and an ex-girlfried. Theories of a drug deal gone wrong. Accusations and fingers being pointed at the students shot for bullying and at the family for "not being there" for the shooter, T.J. In my opinon, it needs to stop. There may have been signs, there will likely be a motive that comes forward but it is not our job to judge or pre-determine it for officials.
That being said, my heart is just breaking for everyone involved. Keeping in theme with my Matthew West blogs "Family Tree" speaks volumes about this horrifying day for Chardon.
You didn't ask for this
Nobody ever would
Caught in the middle of this dysfunction
It's your sad reality
It's your messed up family tree
And all you're left with is all these questions
Are you gonna be like your father was and his father was?
Do you have to carry what they've handed down?
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your destiny
Yesterday does not define you
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you
I have a dream for you
It's better than where you've been
It's bigger than your imagination
You're gonna find real love
And you're gonna hold your kids
You'll change the course of generations
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your destiny
Yesterday does not define you
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you
Cause you're my child
You're my chosen
You are loved
You are loved
And I will restore
All that was broken
You are loved
You are loved
And just like the seasons change
Winter into spring
You're brining new life to your family tree now
Yes you are
You are
No, this will be your legacy
This will be your destiny
Yesterday did not define you
No, this will be your legacy
This will be your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you
And just like the seasons change
Winter into spring
You're brining new life to your family tree now
Every single person reading this. Every single person not reading this. The students. The families. T.J. This is YOUR story. Other people's mistakes and dysfunctions are not your identity. You are not a victim because of your genes. You do not have to fall into harmful and painful footsteps that your family has created before you. When tragedy likes this strikes everyone is left wondering "What more could I have done?" "How did I mess up so much that I didn't see this coming?" "Why did I not do something sooner?" I refuse to believe that this kid was born into violence or murder just because it's how his father was. I don't believe that his true identity is one of bully-driven hatred and anger. He is not the shadow of an alleged murderer or the creation of bullies. He is T.J. And he has his own identity. Let's not try to assign him one just because we need answers.
Everyone please take in the lyrics of this song and TRUST them. If you are down, depressed, angry, full of revenge or hatred. Those feelings are not your identity. They aren't what has to define you. No one on this earth may have the power to reverse things you've experienced or seen... and no one may have the right words or a magic wand to make the hurt and anger go away. But there is never, ever an excuse to allow yourself to go over the edge. EVERYONE has people who love them... and even when it seems the world walks out you have a loving God who is always, always there loving you through every trial and tribulation. You don't have to be alone and you don't have to pre-destined to desperation.
Please keep the victims, the families, the community and especially the family and friends of T.J. and T.J. himself in your prayers. Let's love them through this and not let our shock, sadness and even anger fuel the fire and drama.
“I choose gentleness… Nothing is won by force. I choose to be gentle. If I raise my voice may it be only in praise. If I clench my fist, may it be only in prayer. If I make a demand, may it be only of myself. ”
— Max Lucado
Wrong.
Today a teenage boy opened fire on 5 Chardon students, killing one of them. I have close family and friends from Chardon... it was the "next door neighbor" to my own high school. The student killed is family of one of Byron's closest friends. This isn't entirely too close to home. This IS home.
As the day has gone on and minimal details have unraveled I think we've all felt a sense of despair and wanting answers, wanting to know, how, what, WHY. The police, school officials, teachers, EMT's have done an amazing job today and I have huge amounts of respect for them. That being said, we don't know much about the shooter. He was a troubled teen attending an alternative school, known to have behavior issues. Dad was convicted of murder, parents were divorced, friends saying he "changed" in 8th grade. A loner... I've heard that repeated several times throughout the day. Speculations of a fight between the students shot and this boy over jilted lover and an ex-girlfried. Theories of a drug deal gone wrong. Accusations and fingers being pointed at the students shot for bullying and at the family for "not being there" for the shooter, T.J. In my opinon, it needs to stop. There may have been signs, there will likely be a motive that comes forward but it is not our job to judge or pre-determine it for officials.
That being said, my heart is just breaking for everyone involved. Keeping in theme with my Matthew West blogs "Family Tree" speaks volumes about this horrifying day for Chardon.
You didn't ask for this
Nobody ever would
Caught in the middle of this dysfunction
It's your sad reality
It's your messed up family tree
And all you're left with is all these questions
Are you gonna be like your father was and his father was?
Do you have to carry what they've handed down?
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your destiny
Yesterday does not define you
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you
I have a dream for you
It's better than where you've been
It's bigger than your imagination
You're gonna find real love
And you're gonna hold your kids
You'll change the course of generations
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your destiny
Yesterday does not define you
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you
Cause you're my child
You're my chosen
You are loved
You are loved
And I will restore
All that was broken
You are loved
You are loved
And just like the seasons change
Winter into spring
You're brining new life to your family tree now
Yes you are
You are
No, this will be your legacy
This will be your destiny
Yesterday did not define you
No, this will be your legacy
This will be your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you
And just like the seasons change
Winter into spring
You're brining new life to your family tree now
Every single person reading this. Every single person not reading this. The students. The families. T.J. This is YOUR story. Other people's mistakes and dysfunctions are not your identity. You are not a victim because of your genes. You do not have to fall into harmful and painful footsteps that your family has created before you. When tragedy likes this strikes everyone is left wondering "What more could I have done?" "How did I mess up so much that I didn't see this coming?" "Why did I not do something sooner?" I refuse to believe that this kid was born into violence or murder just because it's how his father was. I don't believe that his true identity is one of bully-driven hatred and anger. He is not the shadow of an alleged murderer or the creation of bullies. He is T.J. And he has his own identity. Let's not try to assign him one just because we need answers.
Everyone please take in the lyrics of this song and TRUST them. If you are down, depressed, angry, full of revenge or hatred. Those feelings are not your identity. They aren't what has to define you. No one on this earth may have the power to reverse things you've experienced or seen... and no one may have the right words or a magic wand to make the hurt and anger go away. But there is never, ever an excuse to allow yourself to go over the edge. EVERYONE has people who love them... and even when it seems the world walks out you have a loving God who is always, always there loving you through every trial and tribulation. You don't have to be alone and you don't have to pre-destined to desperation.
Please keep the victims, the families, the community and especially the family and friends of T.J. and T.J. himself in your prayers. Let's love them through this and not let our shock, sadness and even anger fuel the fire and drama.
“I choose gentleness… Nothing is won by force. I choose to be gentle. If I raise my voice may it be only in praise. If I clench my fist, may it be only in prayer. If I make a demand, may it be only of myself. ”
— Max Lucado
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
My Own Little World
After a six month hiatus I'm back to the blogging world. I'm excited about this blog. At first, I was going to say I'm going to wait on the Matthew West blogging idea altogether. Then I realized how very perfect his song "My Own Little World" coincides with the blog I was intending. So here it goes.
It's no secret anymore (and perhaps never was) the amount of chaos that surrounds my life. Something is always amiss, going wrong, someone's hurt, something's lost, etc. Many times I've had no choice but to make everything in life about me. Through the past several years I've realized some of my drama queen tendencies in overreacting to situations, and trust me... I've worked hard to reverse that role! However, there are things like family deaths, miscarriages and even completely torn off toe nails that you can't overreact to or possibly avoid. Each day has always been a survival fight.
Several months ago I had the awesome opportunity to travel with the ladies from my church to the Come to the Fire Conference in Grove City. The conference was titled "Entering His Rest" I went into the weekend with an open mind and heart. I had no idea what to expect. What happened is simple. I cleansed my heart and it was healed. Once I let go of everything "busy" and "chaotic" and utterly stressful in my life a new vision was opened up to me. When you clear out the baggage in your life you make room for other things to fill the space. And it's not about me. I felt a relief and release from the world's hold on MY life. In turn, I was filled with a deep-seeded anxiousness to serve and help others.
What if there's a bigger picture?
What if I've been missing out?
What if there's a greater purpose?
I could be living right now, outside my own little world.
That's where my struggle lies now. I want to cause positive change in other people's lives. I'm becoming more in tune to other people's trials and chaos instead of focusing on my own. The problem is... I'm not quite sure where to go with that. My heart is in the right place, but this is all so new to me. I don't know how I fit into THEIR picture.
I don't want to miss what matters.
I want to be reaching out.
Show me a greater purpose
I could be living right now.
1) Money - Financially Byron and I are doing better than we ever have, but we still don't have much extra to give away. It seems the majority of the problems I run into is financial crisis of other people or families. My heart breaks for this because I have been there. We have been so far in debt that the next paycheck doesn't even cover all of the overdrafted items and fees. We have not known where money for groceries or diapers would come from. It was desperation. With the help of one amazing woman, our crisis was reversed and we were able to get on track. With some serious devotion and sacrifices we have paid off $20,000 in debt in the past year. Save the applause. We never should have been there in the first place. But now I am aware and sensitive of those people struggling to make ends meet. I can think of four friends very near and dear to me that currently are and have been having serious financial difficulties. I hear their heartache and I know that pain oh so personally. My heart breaks as I realize I cannot take their financial difficulties away. Then I go more global and think about local charities, homeless people I see on the side of the freeway, world hunger... does it ever stop? We sponsor two children through World Vision and Food for the Hungry. While I am proud to give that money each month I also have a very raw anger that I can't do more for the other millions of starving kids, local homeless shelters, friends about to declare bankruptcy.....
2) Time - Who in America has extra time? Seems as if I don't. Byron just came in a whirlwind of two weeks. I have two dogs and an almost 5 year old I'm keeping up with. The house, cleaning, cooking, bills, car, work, laundry, etc. You all know the picture I'm painting. We're in a society that only knows the meaning of "go". I wish I could run down to Hope House and volunteer for a regular position to help them. I've always wanted to join a Habitat for Humanity team. I have a heart longing to go on a missions trip. I don't know where to find the time.
3) Prayer - When you can't devote your time, energies or money to a worthy cause where is the first place Christians generally turn to? Prayer. Prayer becomes life's bandage and a way to feel less guilty about not doing it all. We pray when things get tough for us or other people. We pray for other people's friends and family and struggles. We pray for healing and divine intervention. I have never been a strong prayer. I am guilty of the "help me" prayers. I believe in the power of prayer and I have seen firsthand (and believe in my soul) the way it changes lives. But I don't do it enough. Guilty. Very. I have a fear of praying out loud. I have a guilt every time I pray that I don't do it enough. And I know that helping others only begins at prayer, but doesn't stop there. I still have to take action. I still have to find a way to help.
3) The Mental Game - Then I start to feel bad. I want to do everything for everyone. I have a million great ideas and have only acted on a handful of them. I start to mentally beat myself for everything I haven't done that I want to do. I have found that since I've had a more open heart I AM doing more to help others. But in return I get more and more burned out. The hardest thing I've had to accept is that when you do nice things for others it often goes without thanks, without appreciation and sometimes even with disrespect in return. It's opened my eyes to what pastors must go through on a constant basis always trying to help other people's problems, encourage them to live the correct way, guide them, teach them, etc. only to have it spit back in their face. My human nature starts to take over. I help a friend and they scoff for me not helping them the right way. I give money to a homeless person and see him walking out of a bar an hour later. I try to buy fair-trade products not from slavery and fail. I get depressed and angry. "Why are people not gracious?" "Why is this person throwing their life, relationship, money, _______.... away?" "Why do I live with such an EXCESS of stuff that over 100 people and children of other countries are working as my slave? The mental game will torture you and destroy you if you let it.
4) The Curse - I fall into old habits. I gossip. I envy. I am quick to anger. I'm stubborn. I procrastinate. And even though one man saved me from that and redeemed me, the fall of man is still heavy in every life. Romans 7. Just read it. Even though my heart is good and intentions are great I am still human. And I don't do things right all the time. I'm nowhere near perfect. I am a sinner.
Where does this all go other than driving a person crazy? The next lyrics are my prayer:
Father, break my heart for what breaks yours.
Give me open hands and open doors.
Put your light in my eyes and let me see
That my own little world is not about me.
Rinse and repeat. Over and over and over again. And don't quit. As long as your heart is that of Jesus you will never be led astray. And if you keep your heart open and willing the resources and time and energies and prayers for people in need will be supplied. And don't ever, ever forget that it's not about you or me. The world we live in intimately knows hurt, struggle and chaos. Break me, open me, enlighten me and then let me share it with those who need it.
It's no secret anymore (and perhaps never was) the amount of chaos that surrounds my life. Something is always amiss, going wrong, someone's hurt, something's lost, etc. Many times I've had no choice but to make everything in life about me. Through the past several years I've realized some of my drama queen tendencies in overreacting to situations, and trust me... I've worked hard to reverse that role! However, there are things like family deaths, miscarriages and even completely torn off toe nails that you can't overreact to or possibly avoid. Each day has always been a survival fight.
Several months ago I had the awesome opportunity to travel with the ladies from my church to the Come to the Fire Conference in Grove City. The conference was titled "Entering His Rest" I went into the weekend with an open mind and heart. I had no idea what to expect. What happened is simple. I cleansed my heart and it was healed. Once I let go of everything "busy" and "chaotic" and utterly stressful in my life a new vision was opened up to me. When you clear out the baggage in your life you make room for other things to fill the space. And it's not about me. I felt a relief and release from the world's hold on MY life. In turn, I was filled with a deep-seeded anxiousness to serve and help others.
What if there's a bigger picture?
What if I've been missing out?
What if there's a greater purpose?
I could be living right now, outside my own little world.
That's where my struggle lies now. I want to cause positive change in other people's lives. I'm becoming more in tune to other people's trials and chaos instead of focusing on my own. The problem is... I'm not quite sure where to go with that. My heart is in the right place, but this is all so new to me. I don't know how I fit into THEIR picture.
I don't want to miss what matters.
I want to be reaching out.
Show me a greater purpose
I could be living right now.
1) Money - Financially Byron and I are doing better than we ever have, but we still don't have much extra to give away. It seems the majority of the problems I run into is financial crisis of other people or families. My heart breaks for this because I have been there. We have been so far in debt that the next paycheck doesn't even cover all of the overdrafted items and fees. We have not known where money for groceries or diapers would come from. It was desperation. With the help of one amazing woman, our crisis was reversed and we were able to get on track. With some serious devotion and sacrifices we have paid off $20,000 in debt in the past year. Save the applause. We never should have been there in the first place. But now I am aware and sensitive of those people struggling to make ends meet. I can think of four friends very near and dear to me that currently are and have been having serious financial difficulties. I hear their heartache and I know that pain oh so personally. My heart breaks as I realize I cannot take their financial difficulties away. Then I go more global and think about local charities, homeless people I see on the side of the freeway, world hunger... does it ever stop? We sponsor two children through World Vision and Food for the Hungry. While I am proud to give that money each month I also have a very raw anger that I can't do more for the other millions of starving kids, local homeless shelters, friends about to declare bankruptcy.....
2) Time - Who in America has extra time? Seems as if I don't. Byron just came in a whirlwind of two weeks. I have two dogs and an almost 5 year old I'm keeping up with. The house, cleaning, cooking, bills, car, work, laundry, etc. You all know the picture I'm painting. We're in a society that only knows the meaning of "go". I wish I could run down to Hope House and volunteer for a regular position to help them. I've always wanted to join a Habitat for Humanity team. I have a heart longing to go on a missions trip. I don't know where to find the time.
3) Prayer - When you can't devote your time, energies or money to a worthy cause where is the first place Christians generally turn to? Prayer. Prayer becomes life's bandage and a way to feel less guilty about not doing it all. We pray when things get tough for us or other people. We pray for other people's friends and family and struggles. We pray for healing and divine intervention. I have never been a strong prayer. I am guilty of the "help me" prayers. I believe in the power of prayer and I have seen firsthand (and believe in my soul) the way it changes lives. But I don't do it enough. Guilty. Very. I have a fear of praying out loud. I have a guilt every time I pray that I don't do it enough. And I know that helping others only begins at prayer, but doesn't stop there. I still have to take action. I still have to find a way to help.
3) The Mental Game - Then I start to feel bad. I want to do everything for everyone. I have a million great ideas and have only acted on a handful of them. I start to mentally beat myself for everything I haven't done that I want to do. I have found that since I've had a more open heart I AM doing more to help others. But in return I get more and more burned out. The hardest thing I've had to accept is that when you do nice things for others it often goes without thanks, without appreciation and sometimes even with disrespect in return. It's opened my eyes to what pastors must go through on a constant basis always trying to help other people's problems, encourage them to live the correct way, guide them, teach them, etc. only to have it spit back in their face. My human nature starts to take over. I help a friend and they scoff for me not helping them the right way. I give money to a homeless person and see him walking out of a bar an hour later. I try to buy fair-trade products not from slavery and fail. I get depressed and angry. "Why are people not gracious?" "Why is this person throwing their life, relationship, money, _______.... away?" "Why do I live with such an EXCESS of stuff that over 100 people and children of other countries are working as my slave? The mental game will torture you and destroy you if you let it.
4) The Curse - I fall into old habits. I gossip. I envy. I am quick to anger. I'm stubborn. I procrastinate. And even though one man saved me from that and redeemed me, the fall of man is still heavy in every life. Romans 7. Just read it. Even though my heart is good and intentions are great I am still human. And I don't do things right all the time. I'm nowhere near perfect. I am a sinner.
Where does this all go other than driving a person crazy? The next lyrics are my prayer:
Father, break my heart for what breaks yours.
Give me open hands and open doors.
Put your light in my eyes and let me see
That my own little world is not about me.
Rinse and repeat. Over and over and over again. And don't quit. As long as your heart is that of Jesus you will never be led astray. And if you keep your heart open and willing the resources and time and energies and prayers for people in need will be supplied. And don't ever, ever forget that it's not about you or me. The world we live in intimately knows hurt, struggle and chaos. Break me, open me, enlighten me and then let me share it with those who need it.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Matthew West Blogging Tour: Story of Your Life
Are you ready for the story of your life? Okay, lame attempt at a joke to kick things off...
I've had a really hard time kicking this blog series off, hence the 4 day delay. I could never be a pastor and work under weekly pressure. I've been struggling with whether to keep the themes universal or individual. With much deliberation I've decided to keep them individually universal.
The Story of Your Life - for Matthew West's commentaries, the story behind the song and to listen go to http://www.matthewwest.com/stories/?id=1
"Is this the end? Or only the beginning?" And I was hooked. That's what this entire blogging site is about for me. Reclaiming freedom. New beginnings. Starting over. We all have dark pasts, hidden secrets, and "demons" seemingly haunting us at every turn, don't we? I reached a point last year where I simply gave up. The fight wasn't worth it because I was just getting too hurt, too angry, too confused.
"The question is will you do something with it? Or spend your days lost in your regret?"
If there was ever a line of lyrics that could feel like a punch in the gut that's it right there. My mind was clouded, my vision of the future clouded and I was seemingly blinded to the present. Why me? Why more? God, I can't handle this. You. Make. Me. So. Angry. The blame, the guilt, the raw and bitter fury I felt towards a God I knew to be so loving and only felt to be so unfair and unjust. It was a downward spiral that emptied into an infinitely bottomless pit. Not a fun mental picture, is it?
"Breathe in deep. Feel your heart start beating. Let's go see the reason you're alive."
Life is a journey. And I needed this reminder to keep breathing, realize I AM and WAS alive. And as if I took that invisible hand, I began the process of painstakingly rereading my own story. You see, that infinitely bottomless pit is bottomless for a reason. We can feel like we keep falling, that we've reached the bottom or that things couldn't get any worse. My vision was obscured and I was in complete denial that a loving God could let me fall so low. The truth is that, in fact, that same loving God loves me so much and is so full of grace and mercies that he kept that pit from having a bottom, He kept me above water when I felt like I was drowning. Even through my own obstinate anger and frustrations the Holy Spirit had strong arms wrapped around me and carried me through all of the tribulations I was experiencing. That in itself is amazing and its own story to be told. But just as the first and last lyrics of the song ask.... it's not the end.
"This is the story of your life. You decide how the rest is gonna be."
We are each writing our own story. God doesn't just jump in as the cure-all, mend-all at our beck and call. He gave us beautiful minds to make decisions for a reason. Our stories here on Earth don't end when we feel like life is crashing down. We have ups and downs, good times and bad. Each chapter, each moment of rejoicing and period of darkness creates a story that is uniquely our own. The most beautiful part is we are our own authors. Are we going to let that negative past declare our future to be one of the same sorrow? We have extraordinarily powerful minds that can take all of our past turmoil and triumphs and turn them into an intricately woven story worth reading over and over again, full of bountiful life lessons we can learn from and be an example to others. Are you going to let yours be a tragedy or one with a fairy-tale happily ever after? The choice is yours. I know where mine is headed and I'm excited to keep writing.
"This is the story of your life and it's a story worth telling."
I've had a really hard time kicking this blog series off, hence the 4 day delay. I could never be a pastor and work under weekly pressure. I've been struggling with whether to keep the themes universal or individual. With much deliberation I've decided to keep them individually universal.
The Story of Your Life - for Matthew West's commentaries, the story behind the song and to listen go to http://www.matthewwest.com/stories/?id=1
"Is this the end? Or only the beginning?" And I was hooked. That's what this entire blogging site is about for me. Reclaiming freedom. New beginnings. Starting over. We all have dark pasts, hidden secrets, and "demons" seemingly haunting us at every turn, don't we? I reached a point last year where I simply gave up. The fight wasn't worth it because I was just getting too hurt, too angry, too confused.
"The question is will you do something with it? Or spend your days lost in your regret?"
If there was ever a line of lyrics that could feel like a punch in the gut that's it right there. My mind was clouded, my vision of the future clouded and I was seemingly blinded to the present. Why me? Why more? God, I can't handle this. You. Make. Me. So. Angry. The blame, the guilt, the raw and bitter fury I felt towards a God I knew to be so loving and only felt to be so unfair and unjust. It was a downward spiral that emptied into an infinitely bottomless pit. Not a fun mental picture, is it?
"Breathe in deep. Feel your heart start beating. Let's go see the reason you're alive."
Life is a journey. And I needed this reminder to keep breathing, realize I AM and WAS alive. And as if I took that invisible hand, I began the process of painstakingly rereading my own story. You see, that infinitely bottomless pit is bottomless for a reason. We can feel like we keep falling, that we've reached the bottom or that things couldn't get any worse. My vision was obscured and I was in complete denial that a loving God could let me fall so low. The truth is that, in fact, that same loving God loves me so much and is so full of grace and mercies that he kept that pit from having a bottom, He kept me above water when I felt like I was drowning. Even through my own obstinate anger and frustrations the Holy Spirit had strong arms wrapped around me and carried me through all of the tribulations I was experiencing. That in itself is amazing and its own story to be told. But just as the first and last lyrics of the song ask.... it's not the end.
"This is the story of your life. You decide how the rest is gonna be."
We are each writing our own story. God doesn't just jump in as the cure-all, mend-all at our beck and call. He gave us beautiful minds to make decisions for a reason. Our stories here on Earth don't end when we feel like life is crashing down. We have ups and downs, good times and bad. Each chapter, each moment of rejoicing and period of darkness creates a story that is uniquely our own. The most beautiful part is we are our own authors. Are we going to let that negative past declare our future to be one of the same sorrow? We have extraordinarily powerful minds that can take all of our past turmoil and triumphs and turn them into an intricately woven story worth reading over and over again, full of bountiful life lessons we can learn from and be an example to others. Are you going to let yours be a tragedy or one with a fairy-tale happily ever after? The choice is yours. I know where mine is headed and I'm excited to keep writing.
"This is the story of your life and it's a story worth telling."
Monday, July 11, 2011
The Matthew West Blogging Tour
While life has been crazy busy in the past few weeks it has remained relatively drama free since the toe mishap. The "calm" and many hours in the car has given me plenty of time to reflect on the past several years. The weekend before last I was blessed to have a few days to spend with one of my most cherished friends, Jen. Jen and I originally met through the Mark Schultz message boards way back in 2004. A concert in Bluffton with Matthew West, Mark Schultz and Avalon was the beginning of a great friendship we've been able to expand upon ever since. I was starstruck at the time of the concert and when I had the chance to meet Mark Schultz face-to-face after the concert I walked right by Matthew West's outstretched hand to me and stumbled googly-eyed towards Mark instead. I could kick myself now. My partiality towards Mark's music and all that was associated it pretty much blinded me at the time to the wonders of Matthew West's music. Still kicking myself.
Two summers ago I got to travel with some friends to Illinois where we attended a Christian Music Festival featuring Mark Schultz, Matthew West and the groups Mel endearingly termed "Satan music" It was then that I saw Matthew West for the artist, performer and man that he is. And it was then that Ijokingly started referring to him as my future husband. Okay, really joking... honest. But the man has the entire package and I am just constantly in awe of him.
Last year I was in the eye of the storm with mine and Byron's separation when I started following that Matthew was writing an entire album based off of stories his Facebook and Twitter fans had submitted. He had asked that everyone submit a story of their life.... good, bad, ugly, the inbetween... He spent several weekends in a cabin reading and analyzing those stories and wrote his entire album based off of them. Oh, I was excited to be sure. But nothing could have ever braced me for the reality, truth and healing powers behind this album. No music has ever touched me before as his has in this album. I was moved to tears and goosebumps upon first hearing it and I can honestly say that hasn't stopped with each subsequent "Matthew West Therapy Session". The album is genius, the lyrics are incredible and the voice behind it all is so moving that I can't help but blog about it now.
Anyway, it really struck me while I was driving down to Columbus for the weekend with Jen and the concert how much I wanted and needed to share the impact this album has had on my life. It has such raw universal truths and messages woven throughout it that I don't think there's a single breathing person out there who can't be affected by it in some way. And it's for that reason I've chosen to actually start a blog series for the first time ever based on each song in the album. I've never pre-meditated more than one blog at a time. All of my blogging comes from the heart and if it feels forced I get a mental block and find myself unable to write. But as I listened to each song and the things I could write about my mind was just reeling with blogging possibilities. I'm really excited about it all and can't wait to share with you all. His stories truly resonate within the very core of my soul and have given me deliverance and freedom I've so desperately needed.
Next blog... Story of My Life :) Stay tuned...
Two summers ago I got to travel with some friends to Illinois where we attended a Christian Music Festival featuring Mark Schultz, Matthew West and the groups Mel endearingly termed "Satan music" It was then that I saw Matthew West for the artist, performer and man that he is. And it was then that I
Last year I was in the eye of the storm with mine and Byron's separation when I started following that Matthew was writing an entire album based off of stories his Facebook and Twitter fans had submitted. He had asked that everyone submit a story of their life.... good, bad, ugly, the inbetween... He spent several weekends in a cabin reading and analyzing those stories and wrote his entire album based off of them. Oh, I was excited to be sure. But nothing could have ever braced me for the reality, truth and healing powers behind this album. No music has ever touched me before as his has in this album. I was moved to tears and goosebumps upon first hearing it and I can honestly say that hasn't stopped with each subsequent "Matthew West Therapy Session". The album is genius, the lyrics are incredible and the voice behind it all is so moving that I can't help but blog about it now.
Anyway, it really struck me while I was driving down to Columbus for the weekend with Jen and the concert how much I wanted and needed to share the impact this album has had on my life. It has such raw universal truths and messages woven throughout it that I don't think there's a single breathing person out there who can't be affected by it in some way. And it's for that reason I've chosen to actually start a blog series for the first time ever based on each song in the album. I've never pre-meditated more than one blog at a time. All of my blogging comes from the heart and if it feels forced I get a mental block and find myself unable to write. But as I listened to each song and the things I could write about my mind was just reeling with blogging possibilities. I'm really excited about it all and can't wait to share with you all. His stories truly resonate within the very core of my soul and have given me deliverance and freedom I've so desperately needed.
Next blog... Story of My Life :) Stay tuned...
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Creating new images
I've recently been reading back over my years of old blogs. One painstaking realization I've had to make is how much I've complained in the past. Perhaps because my blogs were a safe haven it's the one place I felt like I could open up. But it's also been this sickness, this injury, this person making me feel horrible for this reason, this life circumstance getting me down. Now it goes without saying that my life is constantly in its own special ebb and flow of natural chaos. I'm not sure why I've always felt such a need to vent through my blog to any readers why I've been unfortunate, the details of my chaos, the reasons for my misery, etc. Maybe there is healing in typing my own words. More likely I've always had an over need of obtaining sympathy as a means of acceptance. It's been a chronic attention-getting behavior when I'm feeling lonely, misplaced, or unloved (and with my husband and best friend chronically thousands of miles away those feelings surface themslves more often than not). Trust me, that's a hard realization to open up my mind to and post for any readers to peruse over. I've really realized this fault of mine over the past 6 months or so. It's a habit hard to break honestly. I catch myself all the time going to post a status about my misfortunes, or ready to post sarcastic remarks to every person or situation which upsets or angers me. Looking back at my Xanga and Deadjournal blogs my biggest mistake was not holding back, not caring how I made people feel. In my own mind my feelings were completely validated or people needed to hear how sick or unlucky I'd been.
I have been blessed with an amazing husband who has more patience than any other man I've ever met. He has tolerated me through my worst and loved me through each complaint, each freak-out, each illness and accident. He supported me all 42 times I swore I was going into labor, has worried with me each time we've dealt with an illness or injury, and has been full of encouragement every single time I get down on myself or feel overcome with worry, doubt and loneliness. He has been such a Godly example of compassion and patience to me and is definitely the reason I have kept myself held together at times.
I think it's hard for many people to understand me and the chaos that trails closely behind. And I think too many people look at me and see me as a victim of my own circumstances or a bringer of my own misfortune. They see me and want to know what bad news I have to bring "this time". Even as I walked into my doctor's office this week he laughed and said "Trisha, Trisha what have you done to yourself this time?" And I think that's become too common of a reaction... people see me and just think of the mess I bring. I don't want to be that person. So, the past 6 months has been an evaluation of sorts in working on myself and how I react to situations. It's true I seem to have a certain streak of bad luck and my own clumsiness is oftentimes the bringer of unforseen accidents. But I don't want to live as if that's my identity. I feel that's the persona I've created for myself over the past 10 years. It's a hard profile to break out of when it's been so meticulously built up. It's also a comfort blanket to fall back on when things start to get tough.
When Byron and I separated I lost that support in him that enabled my feelings. He constantly builds me up and while that is an amazing quality in him it also allowed me to continue in those same patterns. It has taken a lot of prayer, meditation and will to begin breaking through my own shell to figure out why there's so much chaos and how I can react differently to it in the future.
What I've been learning more and more lately is that one of the biggest and most important things I can do to change my own image of myself and the image others have of me is to practice more discernment. It means me biting my lip when people offend me, it means sucking up my pride when I'm feeling down and lonely and as if people don't care. It's about me making better choices all around in life. I suppose I've been a "binge drinker" for a long time in life oftentimes broadcasting things, blogging about things, posting about things, getting angry about things, talking about people when they make me mad (etc. etc. we could all go on couldn't we?) - doing all of these things at the drop of a hat with little regard to how it will affect myself and others in the future because it makes me feel better temporarily.
It's time that I start building myself up to the person that I know and those who are close to me know that I am. I want people to look at me and see compassion, strength, humor and integrity; not a weak person always sick, prone to accidents and falling apart at the seams. And the key person who needs to see those positive traits is myself; for people are only going to see on the surface the same person and image that I've created of myself and believe myself to be.
It's time I move beyond these three pictures:
I have been blessed with an amazing husband who has more patience than any other man I've ever met. He has tolerated me through my worst and loved me through each complaint, each freak-out, each illness and accident. He supported me all 42 times I swore I was going into labor, has worried with me each time we've dealt with an illness or injury, and has been full of encouragement every single time I get down on myself or feel overcome with worry, doubt and loneliness. He has been such a Godly example of compassion and patience to me and is definitely the reason I have kept myself held together at times.
I think it's hard for many people to understand me and the chaos that trails closely behind. And I think too many people look at me and see me as a victim of my own circumstances or a bringer of my own misfortune. They see me and want to know what bad news I have to bring "this time". Even as I walked into my doctor's office this week he laughed and said "Trisha, Trisha what have you done to yourself this time?" And I think that's become too common of a reaction... people see me and just think of the mess I bring. I don't want to be that person. So, the past 6 months has been an evaluation of sorts in working on myself and how I react to situations. It's true I seem to have a certain streak of bad luck and my own clumsiness is oftentimes the bringer of unforseen accidents. But I don't want to live as if that's my identity. I feel that's the persona I've created for myself over the past 10 years. It's a hard profile to break out of when it's been so meticulously built up. It's also a comfort blanket to fall back on when things start to get tough.
When Byron and I separated I lost that support in him that enabled my feelings. He constantly builds me up and while that is an amazing quality in him it also allowed me to continue in those same patterns. It has taken a lot of prayer, meditation and will to begin breaking through my own shell to figure out why there's so much chaos and how I can react differently to it in the future.
What I've been learning more and more lately is that one of the biggest and most important things I can do to change my own image of myself and the image others have of me is to practice more discernment. It means me biting my lip when people offend me, it means sucking up my pride when I'm feeling down and lonely and as if people don't care. It's about me making better choices all around in life. I suppose I've been a "binge drinker" for a long time in life oftentimes broadcasting things, blogging about things, posting about things, getting angry about things, talking about people when they make me mad (etc. etc. we could all go on couldn't we?) - doing all of these things at the drop of a hat with little regard to how it will affect myself and others in the future because it makes me feel better temporarily.
It's time that I start building myself up to the person that I know and those who are close to me know that I am. I want people to look at me and see compassion, strength, humor and integrity; not a weak person always sick, prone to accidents and falling apart at the seams. And the key person who needs to see those positive traits is myself; for people are only going to see on the surface the same person and image that I've created of myself and believe myself to be.
It's time I move beyond these three pictures:
And return to and let people see the real person in these pictures....
Thursday, June 9, 2011
One hot bird
It was scorching hot yesterday so I set up Madison's pool in concoction with the sprinkler. Her and Kirby had a blast splashing around and cooling down. Perhaps a little too much because the pool quickly became much more fun as a mud pit. Madison was soon caked in mud from head to toe. After she enjoyed herself a little bit more than I would have liked I disconnected the sprinkler and went to work rinsing her off. As I did I noticed off in the distance a bird sitting on the edge of the fence watching us. This really comes as no surprise as the neighborhood is an animal haven. Squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, and dozens of types of birds routinely hang out in my backyard. But this bird was different. Instead of flying off once it realized it was noticed it hopped down to the ground. Then it took a few brave steps closer. I was holding the hose... looking at the bird... and back to the hose again. It was in the 90's and we're in a neighborhood without ponds or streams. This bird wanted some water. It wanted water bad enough that it was willing to overlook it's fear of being safe to get it. So I switched the hose settings to squirt water further where I wouldn't scare the little guy. It came about a foot from hitting him. I expected him to startle and fly off but no, that bird was persistent. He hopped a few steps closer and proceeded for the next minute or two to practically dance around in the rainy mist surrounding him. He fluffed his feathers, stretched his head up to the sky, pranced around a bit and thoroughly enjoyed his birdie bath in the cool water. It drew the attention of several other birds who flitted over to the gate. My little bird friend flew off to a nearby branch shaking himself off with an air of "you guys saw nothing, I wasn't trusting those humans."
You all know me by now... grabbing life analogies from nature. This one struck me hard. How many of us feel the heat of our lives weighing us down, feel the hot sun pressing around us, draining our energy and dehydrating our souls? We'd do anything for a refreshing rain on our lives to wipe it all away. Without trying to sound too cliche here we have our own gardener with the water of life ready to pour out on us. And like many birds we stand back timidly, shy away and take flight. Why? Because of fear. We've been hurt before perhaps. Or maybe we're too proud. Perhaps it's because our self-consciousness wins over and we don't want to be seen as "that" bird foolishly dancing in the water God is offering us. There are a million reasons why and we each have our stories, our fears, our inhibitions. We don't always trust the gardener. Sometimes it is really hard to trust and reach out in faith when we feel we've been burned and scorched to our very core. But here is the truth:
13 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:14
Be that little bird in my backyard. Let your thirst and exhaustion bring you to the reviving waters that will quench your soul again. Feel free to dance a little too - we all have much to rejoice in! :)
You all know me by now... grabbing life analogies from nature. This one struck me hard. How many of us feel the heat of our lives weighing us down, feel the hot sun pressing around us, draining our energy and dehydrating our souls? We'd do anything for a refreshing rain on our lives to wipe it all away. Without trying to sound too cliche here we have our own gardener with the water of life ready to pour out on us. And like many birds we stand back timidly, shy away and take flight. Why? Because of fear. We've been hurt before perhaps. Or maybe we're too proud. Perhaps it's because our self-consciousness wins over and we don't want to be seen as "that" bird foolishly dancing in the water God is offering us. There are a million reasons why and we each have our stories, our fears, our inhibitions. We don't always trust the gardener. Sometimes it is really hard to trust and reach out in faith when we feel we've been burned and scorched to our very core. But here is the truth:
13 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:14
Be that little bird in my backyard. Let your thirst and exhaustion bring you to the reviving waters that will quench your soul again. Feel free to dance a little too - we all have much to rejoice in! :)
Monday, May 23, 2011
Deployment is real
This one has been a long time coming. I keep alluding to the "deployment" email that has always been set for some future date. Well, here it is. It's been delayed partially because I simply haven't had time to sit down and write and partially because I haven't known how to express my feelings in words. Seems a bit ironic for me, no?
This whole deployment from the start has been awkward. And I feel awkward talking about it. You see, it wasn't "supposed" to happen. I say "supposed" because I know all things in life happen for a reason and God has His hand all over it, sometimes we just choose some especially long-winded paths. When Byron and I were separated we had quite the hard time figuring out what was going to happen with the house. It wasn't selling, we have the mortgage on it and he was scheduled to leave Alaska in December. Both of us had the least amount of hope in our marriage than any other point and there seemed to be no other decision. Byron signed to stay in Alaska for another three years for the sake of the house alone. We couldn't afford to pay on it, didn't want to risk having renters in it while we were out of state and neither one of us would be able to maintain it if a divorce was finalized. Staying in Alaska was the logical choice for Byron. That also meant signing onto this current deployment.
I have a really hard time wondering what people think of me. I always have. And it makes it worse knowing what we've gone through in the past year. The horrible rumors that were spread around, the truths we had to weave through and deal with and the confusion I'm sure we spread to everyone makes me assume everyone is eyeing us suspiciously and perhaps judgementally. I don't like that feeling. At all. So I've kept pretty quiet about the entire situation and tried to keep a smile on my face (do you see a repetitive defense mechanism pattern here yet?) Afterall, we've been through two deployments. Third times a charm? And even though Byron and I have still been sorting through the chaos of ourselves we're thrown into another year long separation.
Honest confession here. I feel very guilty. I feel guilty for leaving Alaska. I feel guilty for taking Madison away from him for a year prior to this deployment. I feel guilty for not staying and being strong. I feel guilty for not being there to make sure the house sold and that we were able to move on to the next chapter of our life together. Guilt will eat away at you and tear you up, strangling you. I know in my heart-of-hearts I wouldn't have made it up there. I made a decision that was best for our family at the time without even knowing it. I physically, mentally, spiritually could not survive up there any longer than I did. Yet the guilt still lurks around the corner each passing moment.
So let's deal with reality now. Byron is on his third deployment, second to Afghanistan. The separation has become "routine" and we understand how the entire deployment system works. And that's the very problem right there. It has become a routine. Our biggest concern going into this was our relationship not just surviving the year but miraculously coming out stronger. We were scared for us, for the marriage, for our life. Somehow in that the facts of deployment somehow evaded me. He is at war. And it's dangerous.
One night last week I was struggling to sleep so grabbed up my Kindle Byron had bought me for Mother's Day. I fell asleep reading and was startled awake at 12:22am by something unknown. I know it was 12:22am because for some odd reason I was holding my phone in my hand instead of having it on the ledge beside me. As I went to put it back I got a text message. It was a random 5 digit number with a dash inbetween. The message read "Families and friends of 5-1 CAV. It is with great sorrow that I tell you that on May 15, 3 1-25 soldiers were killed in" and that was it. The rest of the message cut off. I started to freak. As an Army wife we have been briefed repeatedly that we will never be notified of death by any means but in person. And the other wives generally never find out about someone else's death until the next of kin have been notified. Two minutes later I got a voicemail. It was a synthesized voice stating the same thing as the text but this time I got the full message. 3 of our 1-25 soldiers had been killed in action and 2 others severely injured. Please don't post anything about it on social media networking sites until names are released pending notification of next of kin. You have got to be kidding me. No names, no hint at what had happened. Nothing. Shortly after came the FRG email reiterrating the same message. And I was left to freak out for the remainder of the evening. It was a sense of panic that could not be replaced by logic. I knew I would be notified asap if something had happened to Byron but I couldn't believe in my heart that it wasn't him until I got some type of verification. I spent the entire early hours and next morning in a completely panicked state waiting to hear something, anything. It wasn't until 4pm that I finally heard from Byron. Fear paralyzed me as I answered the phone... just seeing the Afghanistan number and not knowing if it was him or not. When I heard his voice I completely lost it. I broke down and cried leaving him slightly confused and probably overwhelmed on the other line. He had no clue I had gotten those emails/texts/calls.
Surviving the deployment became a lot less relational and a lot more physical. Afghanistan is a crazy unsafe place. I have felt this whole time like the guys and especially Byron are untouchable. It was too soon for anyone to get killed. They just got there. These guys know what they're doing. Excuses just pouring through my head to make the soldiers of 1-25 invincible. It doesn't work like that in war apparently. This deployment very quickly took on an entirely different meaning. It's going to be long and tough. It'll likely try our marriage, test our patience and send me into hysterics more than once. Neither one of us can get through it alone. I'm so grateful to have a nurturing group of people to help us through it. But even more I'm grateful to have a firm understanding and find great comfort and peace in the fact that faith, hope and love can get you through anything. Faith in God, hope in the future and love. We'll make it.
This whole deployment from the start has been awkward. And I feel awkward talking about it. You see, it wasn't "supposed" to happen. I say "supposed" because I know all things in life happen for a reason and God has His hand all over it, sometimes we just choose some especially long-winded paths. When Byron and I were separated we had quite the hard time figuring out what was going to happen with the house. It wasn't selling, we have the mortgage on it and he was scheduled to leave Alaska in December. Both of us had the least amount of hope in our marriage than any other point and there seemed to be no other decision. Byron signed to stay in Alaska for another three years for the sake of the house alone. We couldn't afford to pay on it, didn't want to risk having renters in it while we were out of state and neither one of us would be able to maintain it if a divorce was finalized. Staying in Alaska was the logical choice for Byron. That also meant signing onto this current deployment.
I have a really hard time wondering what people think of me. I always have. And it makes it worse knowing what we've gone through in the past year. The horrible rumors that were spread around, the truths we had to weave through and deal with and the confusion I'm sure we spread to everyone makes me assume everyone is eyeing us suspiciously and perhaps judgementally. I don't like that feeling. At all. So I've kept pretty quiet about the entire situation and tried to keep a smile on my face (do you see a repetitive defense mechanism pattern here yet?) Afterall, we've been through two deployments. Third times a charm? And even though Byron and I have still been sorting through the chaos of ourselves we're thrown into another year long separation.
Honest confession here. I feel very guilty. I feel guilty for leaving Alaska. I feel guilty for taking Madison away from him for a year prior to this deployment. I feel guilty for not staying and being strong. I feel guilty for not being there to make sure the house sold and that we were able to move on to the next chapter of our life together. Guilt will eat away at you and tear you up, strangling you. I know in my heart-of-hearts I wouldn't have made it up there. I made a decision that was best for our family at the time without even knowing it. I physically, mentally, spiritually could not survive up there any longer than I did. Yet the guilt still lurks around the corner each passing moment.
So let's deal with reality now. Byron is on his third deployment, second to Afghanistan. The separation has become "routine" and we understand how the entire deployment system works. And that's the very problem right there. It has become a routine. Our biggest concern going into this was our relationship not just surviving the year but miraculously coming out stronger. We were scared for us, for the marriage, for our life. Somehow in that the facts of deployment somehow evaded me. He is at war. And it's dangerous.
One night last week I was struggling to sleep so grabbed up my Kindle Byron had bought me for Mother's Day. I fell asleep reading and was startled awake at 12:22am by something unknown. I know it was 12:22am because for some odd reason I was holding my phone in my hand instead of having it on the ledge beside me. As I went to put it back I got a text message. It was a random 5 digit number with a dash inbetween. The message read "Families and friends of 5-1 CAV. It is with great sorrow that I tell you that on May 15, 3 1-25 soldiers were killed in" and that was it. The rest of the message cut off. I started to freak. As an Army wife we have been briefed repeatedly that we will never be notified of death by any means but in person. And the other wives generally never find out about someone else's death until the next of kin have been notified. Two minutes later I got a voicemail. It was a synthesized voice stating the same thing as the text but this time I got the full message. 3 of our 1-25 soldiers had been killed in action and 2 others severely injured. Please don't post anything about it on social media networking sites until names are released pending notification of next of kin. You have got to be kidding me. No names, no hint at what had happened. Nothing. Shortly after came the FRG email reiterrating the same message. And I was left to freak out for the remainder of the evening. It was a sense of panic that could not be replaced by logic. I knew I would be notified asap if something had happened to Byron but I couldn't believe in my heart that it wasn't him until I got some type of verification. I spent the entire early hours and next morning in a completely panicked state waiting to hear something, anything. It wasn't until 4pm that I finally heard from Byron. Fear paralyzed me as I answered the phone... just seeing the Afghanistan number and not knowing if it was him or not. When I heard his voice I completely lost it. I broke down and cried leaving him slightly confused and probably overwhelmed on the other line. He had no clue I had gotten those emails/texts/calls.
Surviving the deployment became a lot less relational and a lot more physical. Afghanistan is a crazy unsafe place. I have felt this whole time like the guys and especially Byron are untouchable. It was too soon for anyone to get killed. They just got there. These guys know what they're doing. Excuses just pouring through my head to make the soldiers of 1-25 invincible. It doesn't work like that in war apparently. This deployment very quickly took on an entirely different meaning. It's going to be long and tough. It'll likely try our marriage, test our patience and send me into hysterics more than once. Neither one of us can get through it alone. I'm so grateful to have a nurturing group of people to help us through it. But even more I'm grateful to have a firm understanding and find great comfort and peace in the fact that faith, hope and love can get you through anything. Faith in God, hope in the future and love. We'll make it.
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Healing Has Begun
I think I've mentioned before that I've blogged for over 10 years now. Posts spread out across several sites it's been a nurturing sort of therapy for me many times.
Last night I was driving and began thinking of all the events of the past year or two. It's a whirlwind of memories going through my head. Two things inparticular have continued to hit me hard. The miscarriage and Papa dying. It's so easy to blog about more mundane things, about daily stress and personal opinions. But it's nearly impossible for me to blog about the things that have hit me right in my innermost core. There are only two blogs to date regarding the miscarriage, both of them very angry posts. And not a single blog about Papa. I wish I could say I played those emotions out in real life but that's not the case. I internalized all of the pain and hurt and slowly the anger as well, forcing myself to believe I had to keep picking up pieces and move on. They've stayed in a very safe, locked up place for well over a year now. I'm not sure why I've kept so removed from them. Self-protection perhaps. Or maybe the fact that it just hurt way too much to let feelings surface more than necessary.
The morning after I had the miscarriage Byron and I went in for an already scheduled appointment. It was supposed to be the first appointment where we could listen to the heartbeat. And yet it had taken a dismal turn the night prior. The doctor performed an ultrasound and without a sign of apathy on her face stated "You've already passed the product of conception." Those words stung. The product of conception. And that was that. It wasn't an embryo to her, not a fetus and certainly not a baby. Simply the product of conception. I think that was the moment I turned off the switch. It was my baby, my child... and it was gone and to anyone but Byron and myself it was a sad situation and nothing more. I think people trying to come up with excuses for God was the worst part. Perhaps something was physically or mentally wrong with it and God was looking out for me. That was a common one. Or people stating that it happens to a lot of women for no known cause, making me a statistic more than anything. It was easiest to shut everyone out.
Switch gears. Shortly after my miscarriage Byron's grandpa died. In a few short years I had grown close to him. At times we were able to visit we could chat and chat and not run out of things to say. We exchanged probably hundreds of emails. And Madison adored him. After the miscarriage I stopped checking my email completely. I didn't answer phonecalls. Wouldn't talk to anyone. He had emailed several times asking if I was okay and if he had done or said something to upset me. And of course he hadn't. I was just trying to survive. But I never saw those emails. Christmas night we got the phonecall that he had died suddenly of a heart attack. I saw the emails from him the following week. I had obviously never responded.
Fast forward just a bit more. Papa got rediagnosed with leukemia for the 3rd time. Twice he fought it and against all odds, beat it. We were blessed with several additional years with him. But that third time hit hard. And after just a few short months I got the dreaded phonecall that I needed to get there. When Byron came to my work and told me how soon I needed to get there I allowed myself to break down for the first time in 3 months. Right there in the construction area at work I sobbed and choked on my own tears and cried out in anger and sorrow. And then I pulled it back together. Well, sort of.
Three major events had crashed down on me. You can only internalize that stuff for so long. After returning from Ohio there was a definite strain on mine and Byron's relationship. PTSD, deployments, all of the events that had just happened.... we were struggling. And the drama continues from there. Many stories throughout the past year. But the constant is that I never began to heal... I never let myself grieve.
About 2 months ago I went to see an endocrinologist for a myriad of health issues I've been having since the miscarriage. I've seen several doctors and I'm pretty sure at this point I had the routine down. The miscarriage was mentioned at every visit and I had become callously accustomed to stating it and moving on. 2 pregnancies, 1 live birth, no known cause for miscarriage, next issue please. But this doctor stopped the breakdown of health issues as soon as I stated the miscarriage. She looked me right in the eye, took my hand and said "I'm sorry for the loss of your baby, truly I am." And the floodgates opened. For whatever reason, whatever amont of sincerity in her voice, whatever emotion I felt at that moment it became okay to grieve. For my lost child, for Byron's grandpa, for Papa, for the past year and a half of confusion and chaos. For the first time my anger towards God began to dissipate and was replaced with questions, the begging for answers and requests to allow myself to begin to heal.
I know that here on Earth I'll never have the answers I want. I know the past 18 months would have been drastically different had a single one of those three events not happened. Through every bit of chaos I can now see the blessings that have been poured out as well. There have been tough days... hard emotions to grapple with.
As I was driving yesterday I was thinking of all three of them up in Heaven. I know how special Madison was to both grandpas and how attached she was to them. And for the first time I was able to find an amazing amount of comfort last night in the fact that my baby, my child was not a product of conception but a child of God with a now everlasting beating heart in Heaven with two amazing great-grandfathers by his or her side. There will still be hurt. There will still be pain and angry moments, sadness and sorrow. But as Matthew West sings "Ohhhh the healing has begun...."
Last night I was driving and began thinking of all the events of the past year or two. It's a whirlwind of memories going through my head. Two things inparticular have continued to hit me hard. The miscarriage and Papa dying. It's so easy to blog about more mundane things, about daily stress and personal opinions. But it's nearly impossible for me to blog about the things that have hit me right in my innermost core. There are only two blogs to date regarding the miscarriage, both of them very angry posts. And not a single blog about Papa. I wish I could say I played those emotions out in real life but that's not the case. I internalized all of the pain and hurt and slowly the anger as well, forcing myself to believe I had to keep picking up pieces and move on. They've stayed in a very safe, locked up place for well over a year now. I'm not sure why I've kept so removed from them. Self-protection perhaps. Or maybe the fact that it just hurt way too much to let feelings surface more than necessary.
The morning after I had the miscarriage Byron and I went in for an already scheduled appointment. It was supposed to be the first appointment where we could listen to the heartbeat. And yet it had taken a dismal turn the night prior. The doctor performed an ultrasound and without a sign of apathy on her face stated "You've already passed the product of conception." Those words stung. The product of conception. And that was that. It wasn't an embryo to her, not a fetus and certainly not a baby. Simply the product of conception. I think that was the moment I turned off the switch. It was my baby, my child... and it was gone and to anyone but Byron and myself it was a sad situation and nothing more. I think people trying to come up with excuses for God was the worst part. Perhaps something was physically or mentally wrong with it and God was looking out for me. That was a common one. Or people stating that it happens to a lot of women for no known cause, making me a statistic more than anything. It was easiest to shut everyone out.
Switch gears. Shortly after my miscarriage Byron's grandpa died. In a few short years I had grown close to him. At times we were able to visit we could chat and chat and not run out of things to say. We exchanged probably hundreds of emails. And Madison adored him. After the miscarriage I stopped checking my email completely. I didn't answer phonecalls. Wouldn't talk to anyone. He had emailed several times asking if I was okay and if he had done or said something to upset me. And of course he hadn't. I was just trying to survive. But I never saw those emails. Christmas night we got the phonecall that he had died suddenly of a heart attack. I saw the emails from him the following week. I had obviously never responded.
Fast forward just a bit more. Papa got rediagnosed with leukemia for the 3rd time. Twice he fought it and against all odds, beat it. We were blessed with several additional years with him. But that third time hit hard. And after just a few short months I got the dreaded phonecall that I needed to get there. When Byron came to my work and told me how soon I needed to get there I allowed myself to break down for the first time in 3 months. Right there in the construction area at work I sobbed and choked on my own tears and cried out in anger and sorrow. And then I pulled it back together. Well, sort of.
Three major events had crashed down on me. You can only internalize that stuff for so long. After returning from Ohio there was a definite strain on mine and Byron's relationship. PTSD, deployments, all of the events that had just happened.... we were struggling. And the drama continues from there. Many stories throughout the past year. But the constant is that I never began to heal... I never let myself grieve.
About 2 months ago I went to see an endocrinologist for a myriad of health issues I've been having since the miscarriage. I've seen several doctors and I'm pretty sure at this point I had the routine down. The miscarriage was mentioned at every visit and I had become callously accustomed to stating it and moving on. 2 pregnancies, 1 live birth, no known cause for miscarriage, next issue please. But this doctor stopped the breakdown of health issues as soon as I stated the miscarriage. She looked me right in the eye, took my hand and said "I'm sorry for the loss of your baby, truly I am." And the floodgates opened. For whatever reason, whatever amont of sincerity in her voice, whatever emotion I felt at that moment it became okay to grieve. For my lost child, for Byron's grandpa, for Papa, for the past year and a half of confusion and chaos. For the first time my anger towards God began to dissipate and was replaced with questions, the begging for answers and requests to allow myself to begin to heal.
I know that here on Earth I'll never have the answers I want. I know the past 18 months would have been drastically different had a single one of those three events not happened. Through every bit of chaos I can now see the blessings that have been poured out as well. There have been tough days... hard emotions to grapple with.
As I was driving yesterday I was thinking of all three of them up in Heaven. I know how special Madison was to both grandpas and how attached she was to them. And for the first time I was able to find an amazing amount of comfort last night in the fact that my baby, my child was not a product of conception but a child of God with a now everlasting beating heart in Heaven with two amazing great-grandfathers by his or her side. There will still be hurt. There will still be pain and angry moments, sadness and sorrow. But as Matthew West sings "Ohhhh the healing has begun...."
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
This is the Stuff
It's been an overwhelming week and again I sit down to blog with my mind whirling and buzzing. Byron left this past week for Afghanistan, his third tour overseas and 2nd one to Afghanistan. He arrived at his final destination today and is beginning the process of "settling in". Another blog about all of this deployment stuff another day though :)
I've been tending to blog about chaos and the messiness of our lives a lot. It's no coincidence because it's what has been on my heart and mind almost constantly. A constant struggle to overcome it and a constant struggle to rise above it.
I've been dealing with this horrible condition called Benign Paraoxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, I'm dizzy. All the time. It's a condition where crystals are in your inner ear fluid that are supposed to be stationary on an organ within the ear. Normally no cause is found. Many time it goes away on its own but the duration can be weeks. It is mentally and physically exhausting. And very, very frustrating. It's hard to focus for work, hard to try and clean and keep up on housework, hard to take care of Madison and have patience with her. I fall and trip over my own two feet, drop things all the times, run into things. I go tomorrow for more testing on my ear and to develop more of a "treatment" plan which basically eliminates coffe, salt and sugar from my diet and entails me running back and forth across rooms with my eyes closed. Sound fun yet?
So Byon deployed last week. We have our old realtor sending harassing text messages and emails about what horrible people we are for switching realtors. There was last minute deployment stuff and then dealing with the adjustment of him being gone. Madison has been acting out since Byron has left. This week she cut the dog's hair... and then her own (leaving a good chunk of very short hair on the side of her head), constant spills and messes, new "creative" projects I'm finding she's done while I'm working or cooking or cleaning or passing out from being dizzy :) At one point she spilled an entire glass of milk on the couch and I literally sat down and cried over spilled milk. It didn't much matter in the end. I put the couch cover in the wash Saturday night and we went to my mom's on Sunday. Came home that evening and the couch was chewed through and destroyed... bits of yellow foam and white stuffing everywhere. That's been this week.
Today I got to feeling really bogged down and really anxious about how backed up I am on everything... on work, on cleaning, on laundry, on my to-do list. Ever present in any mom's life (but certainly more in that of a deployed soldier's wife) is the feeling that we are never doing enough, that we won't be able to do enough and therefore leads to an identity and feeling that we will never be enough. That's a tough pill to swallow. I got to thinking about it this afternoon. I put in hours for work this morning, did 2 loads of laundry, caught up on dishes, folded some laundry, bathed Madison, went to the post office (rent check sent, change of address done, military boxes picked up and pictures finally mailed out to family), got the insurance settlement checks deposited at the bank, got gas and car washed, Mother's Day gifts bought, grocery shopping done, groceries put away, car cleaned out, bubbles blown with Madison and chalk drawings complete, quick dinner, 2 more hours of work, cleaned up the living room, fed the dogs, bedtime routine (and got her into her own bed for the first time since Daddy left) I looked at my list which was only about a third of the way crossed off for the day and felt defeated. Why couldn't I have done more? And then it hit me. I couldn't have. I did what I could and for today, that was enough. Each day is enough.
On Sunday I spent a frantic Sunday looking for my phone I had lost the night prior. I could not miss Byron's call. Any person who has dealt with a deployment knows you cannot leave your phone. It is your lifeline. And when you miss those calls by thirty seconds you curse the voicemail and beg it to call back even though they just called 3 times. I was frazzled, had missed church by now and was about to go into an anxiety attack when Lynn texted me as I was putting the previously mentioned couch cover in the dryer and I heard it ding. I had dropped it the night prior between the washer and dryer. On my way home from my mom's house I was listening to the radio and (prior to finding the couch shredded) I heard this song by Francesca Battistelli, a Christian singer I'd never heard of before. I loved the sound of the music and the lyrics tell all you need to know!
Francesca Battistelli "This is the Stuff"
I lost my keys in the great unknown
And call me please 'Cuz I can't find my phone
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
But this is the stuff You use
45 in a 35
Sirens and fines while I'm running behind
Whoa
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/this-is-the-stuff-lyrics-francesca-battistelli.html ]
But this is the stuff You use
So break me of impatience
Conquer my frustrations
I've got a new appreciation
It's not the end of the world
Oh Oh Oh
I've been tending to blog about chaos and the messiness of our lives a lot. It's no coincidence because it's what has been on my heart and mind almost constantly. A constant struggle to overcome it and a constant struggle to rise above it.
I've been dealing with this horrible condition called Benign Paraoxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, I'm dizzy. All the time. It's a condition where crystals are in your inner ear fluid that are supposed to be stationary on an organ within the ear. Normally no cause is found. Many time it goes away on its own but the duration can be weeks. It is mentally and physically exhausting. And very, very frustrating. It's hard to focus for work, hard to try and clean and keep up on housework, hard to take care of Madison and have patience with her. I fall and trip over my own two feet, drop things all the times, run into things. I go tomorrow for more testing on my ear and to develop more of a "treatment" plan which basically eliminates coffe, salt and sugar from my diet and entails me running back and forth across rooms with my eyes closed. Sound fun yet?
So Byon deployed last week. We have our old realtor sending harassing text messages and emails about what horrible people we are for switching realtors. There was last minute deployment stuff and then dealing with the adjustment of him being gone. Madison has been acting out since Byron has left. This week she cut the dog's hair... and then her own (leaving a good chunk of very short hair on the side of her head), constant spills and messes, new "creative" projects I'm finding she's done while I'm working or cooking or cleaning or passing out from being dizzy :) At one point she spilled an entire glass of milk on the couch and I literally sat down and cried over spilled milk. It didn't much matter in the end. I put the couch cover in the wash Saturday night and we went to my mom's on Sunday. Came home that evening and the couch was chewed through and destroyed... bits of yellow foam and white stuffing everywhere. That's been this week.
Today I got to feeling really bogged down and really anxious about how backed up I am on everything... on work, on cleaning, on laundry, on my to-do list. Ever present in any mom's life (but certainly more in that of a deployed soldier's wife) is the feeling that we are never doing enough, that we won't be able to do enough and therefore leads to an identity and feeling that we will never be enough. That's a tough pill to swallow. I got to thinking about it this afternoon. I put in hours for work this morning, did 2 loads of laundry, caught up on dishes, folded some laundry, bathed Madison, went to the post office (rent check sent, change of address done, military boxes picked up and pictures finally mailed out to family), got the insurance settlement checks deposited at the bank, got gas and car washed, Mother's Day gifts bought, grocery shopping done, groceries put away, car cleaned out, bubbles blown with Madison and chalk drawings complete, quick dinner, 2 more hours of work, cleaned up the living room, fed the dogs, bedtime routine (and got her into her own bed for the first time since Daddy left) I looked at my list which was only about a third of the way crossed off for the day and felt defeated. Why couldn't I have done more? And then it hit me. I couldn't have. I did what I could and for today, that was enough. Each day is enough.
On Sunday I spent a frantic Sunday looking for my phone I had lost the night prior. I could not miss Byron's call. Any person who has dealt with a deployment knows you cannot leave your phone. It is your lifeline. And when you miss those calls by thirty seconds you curse the voicemail and beg it to call back even though they just called 3 times. I was frazzled, had missed church by now and was about to go into an anxiety attack when Lynn texted me as I was putting the previously mentioned couch cover in the dryer and I heard it ding. I had dropped it the night prior between the washer and dryer. On my way home from my mom's house I was listening to the radio and (prior to finding the couch shredded) I heard this song by Francesca Battistelli, a Christian singer I'd never heard of before. I loved the sound of the music and the lyrics tell all you need to know!
Francesca Battistelli "This is the Stuff"
I lost my keys in the great unknown
And call me please 'Cuz I can't find my phone
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
But this is the stuff You use
45 in a 35
Sirens and fines while I'm running behind
Whoa
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/this-is-the-stuff-lyrics-francesca-battistelli.html ]
But this is the stuff You use
So break me of impatience
Conquer my frustrations
I've got a new appreciation
It's not the end of the world
Oh Oh Oh
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Cries of a military wife
Today I'm writing with a heavy heart. I've been waiting for the right moment to blog for awhile now.. several blog topics in queue and ready to be hashed out in words. And most of them in the evening hours or into the wee hours of the morning. But today it's a late afternoon blog based on my emotional thought process in trying to comprehend and process a blog I read of someone I don't even know.
Jessica's Suicide Blog is the link if you would like the full story prior to my response.
In summary, a suffering military wife who chose (and thank God failed) to take her own life. PTSD, depression, alcohol, affairs, anger, resentment, war... the unfortunate typical life of a military wife suffering to not be a victim and failing miserably.
I cringe when I hear people talk about people being a victim of their own circumstances, of them being able to prevent their own misery, to eliminate their stress and worries. If you are that person thinking that of someone try helping them instead. Be there for them. Support them. Love them.
What rattled me to my core more than her actual blog was the outpouring of response from the blogging community of military wives. Strangers loving her back to health (she is still hospitalized with a long road of recovery per a post from her parents). Military wives admitting the SAME feelings of defeat and suicide attempts. The number of people who have been in her shoes, felt her sorrow and could not find an escape. In our darkest times and weakest moments we are blinded by any goodness, hope and love surrounding us. It is nearly impossible to see through the thick fog. We've all been there haven't we? We're not victims of our own circumstances. No. If we were wise enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to solve our own problems, to correct our own attitudes in our most sorrow-filled and worrisome moments don't you think we would have already done it?
Military spouse life is hard. I don't feel the need to expand upon that in this blog. Either you get it or you don't. Support from family and friends is invaluable. And it is so easy... so so easy to fall into the trap of seeing the people who simply don't care or don't take the time to let you know that they do. It's easy to sit back and point fingers at the people whose support you need the most who fail to give it. It's easy to feel overwhelmed by the circumstances and trials along the way. It's easy to allow our own pretentious human behavior to cloud the many blessings being poured out for us. And it's even easier for people to watch people suffer through this and sit back and... do nothing.
Thank you. Thank you to those of you taking the time to read this. Thank you to my family and friends who continually show how much they love and care... especially the dedicated few who stood by me and Byron throughout the last year of our separation and desperation of trying to hold our marriage together. And even more to those of you who did it without judgment. Thank you to my mom and Dale who took me in without questions asked and helped me get on my feet again. Thank you to every friend who has heard me out and spent time listening to my frustrations. A huge special thank you to my life group who has continually supported me, loved me, gotten me laughing every single week and refreshed and renewed my heart without even knowing they were doing it. To each of you who has taken time to call (sometimes repeatedly when I won't answer the phone or call back!), to write a note, to offer a hand of help, to pray for us, to help us out financially, to care for Madison, to text, to do something as simple as commenting on Facebook. You all are invaluable to me. I hope you all realize the importance you have to me and how the simplest amounts of support are what get me (and have gotten me) through.
My heartfelt prayers go out to Jessica and her family. I pray that she makes a full and healthy recovery with the ability to have her vision unclouded to see how special and important she is. In fact, that's my prayer for every military wife who is struggling with the life of the military getting them down and making them hit rock bottom. If you feel led Jessica's parents have set up a PO Box for cards and letters of encouragement to be sent to her.
Jessica
P.O. Box 292138
Columbia, SC 29229
Jessica's Suicide Blog is the link if you would like the full story prior to my response.
In summary, a suffering military wife who chose (and thank God failed) to take her own life. PTSD, depression, alcohol, affairs, anger, resentment, war... the unfortunate typical life of a military wife suffering to not be a victim and failing miserably.
I cringe when I hear people talk about people being a victim of their own circumstances, of them being able to prevent their own misery, to eliminate their stress and worries. If you are that person thinking that of someone try helping them instead. Be there for them. Support them. Love them.
What rattled me to my core more than her actual blog was the outpouring of response from the blogging community of military wives. Strangers loving her back to health (she is still hospitalized with a long road of recovery per a post from her parents). Military wives admitting the SAME feelings of defeat and suicide attempts. The number of people who have been in her shoes, felt her sorrow and could not find an escape. In our darkest times and weakest moments we are blinded by any goodness, hope and love surrounding us. It is nearly impossible to see through the thick fog. We've all been there haven't we? We're not victims of our own circumstances. No. If we were wise enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to solve our own problems, to correct our own attitudes in our most sorrow-filled and worrisome moments don't you think we would have already done it?
Military spouse life is hard. I don't feel the need to expand upon that in this blog. Either you get it or you don't. Support from family and friends is invaluable. And it is so easy... so so easy to fall into the trap of seeing the people who simply don't care or don't take the time to let you know that they do. It's easy to sit back and point fingers at the people whose support you need the most who fail to give it. It's easy to feel overwhelmed by the circumstances and trials along the way. It's easy to allow our own pretentious human behavior to cloud the many blessings being poured out for us. And it's even easier for people to watch people suffer through this and sit back and... do nothing.
Thank you. Thank you to those of you taking the time to read this. Thank you to my family and friends who continually show how much they love and care... especially the dedicated few who stood by me and Byron throughout the last year of our separation and desperation of trying to hold our marriage together. And even more to those of you who did it without judgment. Thank you to my mom and Dale who took me in without questions asked and helped me get on my feet again. Thank you to every friend who has heard me out and spent time listening to my frustrations. A huge special thank you to my life group who has continually supported me, loved me, gotten me laughing every single week and refreshed and renewed my heart without even knowing they were doing it. To each of you who has taken time to call (sometimes repeatedly when I won't answer the phone or call back!), to write a note, to offer a hand of help, to pray for us, to help us out financially, to care for Madison, to text, to do something as simple as commenting on Facebook. You all are invaluable to me. I hope you all realize the importance you have to me and how the simplest amounts of support are what get me (and have gotten me) through.
My heartfelt prayers go out to Jessica and her family. I pray that she makes a full and healthy recovery with the ability to have her vision unclouded to see how special and important she is. In fact, that's my prayer for every military wife who is struggling with the life of the military getting them down and making them hit rock bottom. If you feel led Jessica's parents have set up a PO Box for cards and letters of encouragement to be sent to her.
Jessica
P.O. Box 292138
Columbia, SC 29229
Monday, April 11, 2011
Shy
Can anyone reading this imagine me as shy? You might not believe it but I've come a long, long way. I used to be painfully shy. It made me nervous to meet anyone new. I'd rather die than have to introduce myself to someone I didn't know. It was like that since childhood. As I've grown up meeting people has become easier. When you move as often as we have it becomes a trained ability. You either meet people in the Army or you suffer. The hello's are now the easy part and the goodbyes get harder as we go on. The shy, reserved person I was is much more outgoing and friendly, oftentimes replaced with a person with an odd sense of humor not everyone can always appreciate.
In elementary school I hardly spoke to anyone. My reserved nature was content playing on my own, reading on the side or doing my homework while everyone else chatted. It made me a target and a victim of my own circumstance. I was relentlessly teased and picked on. Name calling, bullying, and worse yet the ignoring. One of my most vivid memories is of 5th grade. It was near the end of the year and the teacher had said everyone could move their desks wherever and however they wanted. All of the girls talked in hushed whispers and one by one moved their desks into a circle all together... every single one of them.... leaving me on the opposite side of the room. Alone. Their giggles and smug looks of pre-teen contentment have stuck with me for years.
It's no wonder that one of my biggest fear as a mother was having a child that wasn't liked by others or gets picked on. Or worse yet... painstakingly shy leading to all of the above. There are moments I have worried as she is completely attached to me. She goes where I go, I go where she goes, wherever we go we do it together. Me and that little 4 year old girl have been through a lot. And knowing how attached she is to me made me begin to worry even more. I see her play alone and entertain herself even when other kids are around. At Justin's birthday party several weeks ago all of the kids were running and playing together and there was Madison in Justin's room... content as can be playing by herself. She enjoys going to the Eagle's Nest, a free daycare at the grocery store but even there I'll sneak peeks and watch her entertaining herself while the other kids play together. One day I asked her why she didn't play with other kids and she told me "I didn't know their names." Simple as that. I explained to her that she can tell them HER name and ask them to play and they could have lots of fun. So fast forward a week. I had had a trying day with her, we had been cooped up in the house for three days and it was just time to get out. I took her up to the McDonalds with a playplace. And there she started the cycle. Running through the maze of kids not talking to anyone. It cleared out, my coffee was dwindling and I was getting ready to leave when a girl about her age came in. I saw Madison look at me and smile and as if looking for my approval she ran up to the girl. "Hi, I'm Madison. I'm 4. Would you like to play with me?"
They were best buddies for the rest of the night. When we went to leave Madison asked "Mommy, can she come spend the night?" It did my heart good. She's funny. She's outgoing. And she's been blessed by a beautiful face and outgoing personality that no kid in their right mind could ever make fun of. I adore this little girl and find her inspiring more than she knows. She has a bright future. Of course she has to, I'm her mommy :)
In elementary school I hardly spoke to anyone. My reserved nature was content playing on my own, reading on the side or doing my homework while everyone else chatted. It made me a target and a victim of my own circumstance. I was relentlessly teased and picked on. Name calling, bullying, and worse yet the ignoring. One of my most vivid memories is of 5th grade. It was near the end of the year and the teacher had said everyone could move their desks wherever and however they wanted. All of the girls talked in hushed whispers and one by one moved their desks into a circle all together... every single one of them.... leaving me on the opposite side of the room. Alone. Their giggles and smug looks of pre-teen contentment have stuck with me for years.
It's no wonder that one of my biggest fear as a mother was having a child that wasn't liked by others or gets picked on. Or worse yet... painstakingly shy leading to all of the above. There are moments I have worried as she is completely attached to me. She goes where I go, I go where she goes, wherever we go we do it together. Me and that little 4 year old girl have been through a lot. And knowing how attached she is to me made me begin to worry even more. I see her play alone and entertain herself even when other kids are around. At Justin's birthday party several weeks ago all of the kids were running and playing together and there was Madison in Justin's room... content as can be playing by herself. She enjoys going to the Eagle's Nest, a free daycare at the grocery store but even there I'll sneak peeks and watch her entertaining herself while the other kids play together. One day I asked her why she didn't play with other kids and she told me "I didn't know their names." Simple as that. I explained to her that she can tell them HER name and ask them to play and they could have lots of fun. So fast forward a week. I had had a trying day with her, we had been cooped up in the house for three days and it was just time to get out. I took her up to the McDonalds with a playplace. And there she started the cycle. Running through the maze of kids not talking to anyone. It cleared out, my coffee was dwindling and I was getting ready to leave when a girl about her age came in. I saw Madison look at me and smile and as if looking for my approval she ran up to the girl. "Hi, I'm Madison. I'm 4. Would you like to play with me?"
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
On the verge of...
I have a really hard time settling chaos in my life. It follows me. It's attracted to me and perhaps myself to it. And I don't know how to tame it. This week it's spider bites, sickness, doctor's appointments, spilled trash, crazy emotions... wait, did I say spilled trash???
Back it up. Last night I went to bed really peacefully. I've been bad and letting Madison sleep with me since Byron's been gone again. She was having a hard time going to bed and I'll be honest, I was too. It's just natural, the two of us, to sleep together when Daddy's gone. I've been going to bed way too late myself and not getting enough sleep. I went to bed at a reasonable 11pm last night but could not force myself into slumber. Instead I watched Madison snoring softly beside me, her body wrapped up against me and her face nestled in the crook of my arm. I just simply adored her beautiful face and how peaceful she was in her sleep. I am so blessed by her. Is it silly to say that a four year old is one of my best friends? We're inseparable. I can count on both hands how many nights I've spent away from her since she's been born. Why is it so easy to see how precious she is when she's asleep and so hard to remember that during the waking hours? Because she's 4.
I found myself in a funk today that progressed throughout the day. Bogged down by chores to catch up on at the house, hours to make sure I'm getting in for work, my schedule for the week, etc. Remembering commitments I've made to people over the next week and stressing about whether I've double booked myself or not. I figured it would all calm itself at life group as it normally does. We enjoyed the cake for little P's 1st birthday. But as we "settled in" for the lesson I felt the funk coming on more. We are doing a study on building stronger marriages which is an EXCELLENT thing for Byron and I. But it was dredging up memories and fears. Sparking the fear of deployment and the separation that we are facing. Starting a brand new relationship again but not able to spend it together. Add in the chaos of the kids tonight.... little P getting fussy after a pound of sugar, Madison and Peyton fighting and crying and not wanting to share, just the buzz of it all and I felt myself building on the verge of a breakdown. Madison didn't listen when I told her to do something so when I yelled at her she started crying.... loudly... and I had to walk away. I got our stuff together hastily, shouted a goodbye I'm not sure more than 1 or 2 people actually heard and rushed out of there before I started crying.
And I breathed.
I told myself I wouldn't let the spiral take control. I had the rest of the evening and I didn't have to do anything but relax. Madison always falls asleep on the way home from life group, I'm caught up on work and I was looking forward to just sitting back and taking in the evening. Wrong again. We got home, I got the garbage out, took care of a few odds and ends and had JUST sat down. CRASHHHHHHHH!!!! And then a cry. Not the cry of whining, tired 4 year old but that of a scared or hurt 4 year old. I rushed to thecrime scene kitchen to find the entire trash can and its contents all over the ground and Madison. The dogs have a bad habit of getting into the trash when I'm not at home so I put it up. It was full today... we don't have a garbage disposal... so it has the last 3 or so days of remnants.... corn, ranch dressing, hot dog bits, coffee grounds, pudding, ketchup... well you get the picture. Madison had gotten upset when I told her there were no fruit snacks left and I had thrown the box away. She had taken it into her own hands to climb on top of the table to take a look for herself. Only her plan went awry when she tried putting the chair up there too toppling into the garbage can and then both of them from the table to the ground. This was no small mess. Madison (freshly bathed several hours prior) now had her hair matted down with unidentifiable mush and coffee grounds, sour cream down her arms, wrappers sticking to her now slime covered body. My favorite and only pair of black dress shoes now covered in and filled with sludge. The dogs were digging into the trash, some liquid was riveting across the floor and I'm pretty sure I could hear the army of ants planning their assault attack. Madison had hurt her elbow, was crying and wanting to be picked up and I didn't know where to start.
And the tears came.
We got through it of course. Madison got in the bathtub after a major freak out that 3 ants were crawling along the edge. I shoved the dogs outside and started the nasty task of cleanup in the kitchen. Vacuum dry particles, wet cloth and cleaner to the mush. As I cleaned I noticed the giant furballs wafting around under the table, saw the spider webs forming in the corner, the sock that's been sitting in the corner for several days.... all stuff that's been on my list to get done for the past week.
Completely overwhelmed.
So where's the analogy in all of this? I can make analogies out of almost anything in life but not this time. Just raw emotion wrapped up in the trash and chaos. That's life. We can dwell on it or we can overcome it. It's not going to settle down just because we want it to. I wish I had something more insightful or profound but tonight it's just life. And tomorrow's a new beginning. As much as she might be fighting it and not liking it Madison will fall asleep. And that angelic look I found comfort in last night will return. And we try again tomorrow.
"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life. " Psalm 143:8
Back it up. Last night I went to bed really peacefully. I've been bad and letting Madison sleep with me since Byron's been gone again. She was having a hard time going to bed and I'll be honest, I was too. It's just natural, the two of us, to sleep together when Daddy's gone. I've been going to bed way too late myself and not getting enough sleep. I went to bed at a reasonable 11pm last night but could not force myself into slumber. Instead I watched Madison snoring softly beside me, her body wrapped up against me and her face nestled in the crook of my arm. I just simply adored her beautiful face and how peaceful she was in her sleep. I am so blessed by her. Is it silly to say that a four year old is one of my best friends? We're inseparable. I can count on both hands how many nights I've spent away from her since she's been born. Why is it so easy to see how precious she is when she's asleep and so hard to remember that during the waking hours? Because she's 4.
I found myself in a funk today that progressed throughout the day. Bogged down by chores to catch up on at the house, hours to make sure I'm getting in for work, my schedule for the week, etc. Remembering commitments I've made to people over the next week and stressing about whether I've double booked myself or not. I figured it would all calm itself at life group as it normally does. We enjoyed the cake for little P's 1st birthday. But as we "settled in" for the lesson I felt the funk coming on more. We are doing a study on building stronger marriages which is an EXCELLENT thing for Byron and I. But it was dredging up memories and fears. Sparking the fear of deployment and the separation that we are facing. Starting a brand new relationship again but not able to spend it together. Add in the chaos of the kids tonight.... little P getting fussy after a pound of sugar, Madison and Peyton fighting and crying and not wanting to share, just the buzz of it all and I felt myself building on the verge of a breakdown. Madison didn't listen when I told her to do something so when I yelled at her she started crying.... loudly... and I had to walk away. I got our stuff together hastily, shouted a goodbye I'm not sure more than 1 or 2 people actually heard and rushed out of there before I started crying.
And I breathed.
I told myself I wouldn't let the spiral take control. I had the rest of the evening and I didn't have to do anything but relax. Madison always falls asleep on the way home from life group, I'm caught up on work and I was looking forward to just sitting back and taking in the evening. Wrong again. We got home, I got the garbage out, took care of a few odds and ends and had JUST sat down. CRASHHHHHHHH!!!! And then a cry. Not the cry of whining, tired 4 year old but that of a scared or hurt 4 year old. I rushed to the
And the tears came.
We got through it of course. Madison got in the bathtub after a major freak out that 3 ants were crawling along the edge. I shoved the dogs outside and started the nasty task of cleanup in the kitchen. Vacuum dry particles, wet cloth and cleaner to the mush. As I cleaned I noticed the giant furballs wafting around under the table, saw the spider webs forming in the corner, the sock that's been sitting in the corner for several days.... all stuff that's been on my list to get done for the past week.
Completely overwhelmed.
So where's the analogy in all of this? I can make analogies out of almost anything in life but not this time. Just raw emotion wrapped up in the trash and chaos. That's life. We can dwell on it or we can overcome it. It's not going to settle down just because we want it to. I wish I had something more insightful or profound but tonight it's just life. And tomorrow's a new beginning. As much as she might be fighting it and not liking it Madison will fall asleep. And that angelic look I found comfort in last night will return. And we try again tomorrow.
"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life. " Psalm 143:8
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