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."

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 I jokingly 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...

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:

And return to and let people see the real person in these pictures....

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! :)

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.

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...."

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