Significantly Irrelevant

Perspective

2011-05-18T05:27:00.000-07:00

As a freshman at Purdue studying Fine Arts, I spent an entire semester drawing the same structure. Three days a week. Every week. Four months. The same thing.

There is this place right in the middle of campus where a number of walkways, corridors and buildings converge into an open space. Architecturally and from a space planning sense, it is really quite stunning.

Right in the middle of the open space are these fountains, that seem to be oddly misplaced in the context of what surrounds them. To one side are the buildings that house the schools of engineering. On another side there is the pharmacy school and to yet another side are administrative buildings that house the dean of students and other official types.

But there are these fountains. They seem to spring up from nothing. Whimsical and playful and completely unexpected.

The assignment for the entire semester was to build a portfolio that showed this spot on the map from every possible perspective. To be honest, I liked the idea of spending warm afternoons out on the grass drawing rather than in the studio being lectured. I liked that part far more than I did the idea of drawing it repetitively.

It didn't take me very long to figure out that there were places that I could plant myself that made drawing the space pretty easy. Finding a spot where I could look at the fountains straight on made rendering it in perspective a breeze. Everything looked right. There was no need to measure angles and figure horizon lines and vanishing points. The view from that spot was aesthetically pleasing.

It was the perspective that mattered.

It took me just about as much time to figure out that there were places that I could plant myself that made drawing that space a nightmare. A spot where lines and angles and forms converge and twist and becomes nearly impossible to replicate. The view from that spot was gritty and tangled.

It was all about the perspective.

It could be where one sidewalk would crash into another, both coming from opposite angles. Or where the slope of the walls of the fountain would intersect visually with the overhang from the roof of a building in the background. Or looking down on them from the corner of a roof top of Schleman Hall where, when you stare for too long, your eyes begin to play tricks on you, like you have been staring at an optical illusion and soon you don't know which lines are real and which ones are imagined.

I learned so much about composition and technique and scale and art in general that semester.

I learned perspective.

Little did I know at 20 years old that the lessons that I learned sitting in the grass with some paper and a a pencil would not only encourage me later, but at times sustain me.

I learned perspective.

Perspective isn't this static thing. It's not a feeling. It's not an emotional state. It's not the way you view things.

It's the way you see them.

Objects don't change.

A building is a cube. That doesn't change. No matter where you plant yourself, that building will always have the same walls and roof and windows and doors. The angles and the slope and the pitch of things will always be the same.

If you can't make sense of what you see, closing your eyes and opening them again is not going to help. If you try it enough times, eventually your eyes may begin to play trick on you. They may begin to see things that aren't really there. Just like an optical illusion, you can think you see it a different way. But you don't. It didn't change.

There is only one way to make what you see in front of you different. You have to get up. Up from where you planted yourself. You have to stand up and move to another spot.

It doesn't change things.

The building is still a cube. The walls and roof and the windows and the doors. They didn't change. But the way you see it has.

My life is just like that spot. All around me are things that are black and white. They are schools of thinking that have only one answer. They are diagnosis and diseases and relationships that have no room for interpretation. They are what they are. That will never change.

But there are these fountains. They seem to spring up from nothing. Whimsical and playful and completely unexpected.

If you plant yourself at many spots around them, they don't make sense. You have to squint your eyes just to even begin to see where one form starts and the other stops. It's gritty and tangled and nearly impossible to reproduce in any way that would be recognizable, let alone pleasing.

But then there is this other spot. This one place where if you stand and look at just the right time and in just the right way, what you can see takes your breath away. These two concrete forms begin to take on life and they don't just exist in the same scape, they begin to interact with each other, almost as if they have this dialog that doesn't need words. The juxtaposition of the two forms as they swirl and dance around and among each other is beautiful.

You can capture that image on paper, it is aesthetically pleasing and it makes people stop to stare into it. An image that, had you not moved, would have been lost forever.

Make a Move

2011-05-04T08:17:00.000-07:00

I am really good at being mad at other people. I am a master of placing blame and feeling frustration when other people disappoint me or let me down. I am really good at angry.

Where I am having a hard time is when the person that I am frustrated with is myself. When I am the one that let me down. That I am not good at. Not at all.

For the last several weeks I have had this feeling inside me. Frustration. Angst. Confusion. It has been building to the point where I can't pretend that I am happy. People don't do well with that version of me. The one that isn't silly and fun. I am not really sure what to do with her either.

I have been reading tons of stuff and praying a lot lately and the more I read and the more time I spend with God, the more I feel like I am failing.

If there was on characteristic I could change about my self, it would be the speed at which I fall. Fall in love with ideas, fall in love with ideals, fall in love with programs and concepts and models and systems. But mostly, fall in love with people.

It doesn't take me very long before I meet a kid and I love them like they were my own. I worry about them. I wonder about them. I pray and plan and dream for and about them.

I want the same thing for them that I want for my own boys. I want them to be healthy. I want them to be happy. More than that, I want them to fall in love with Jesus. Not just hear about him, not just believe about him. Believe in him, with everything that they are and with their entire lives. I want them to recklessly love the one that created them.

That's is where I feel frustrated. That is where I know that I have failed. I have stood in front of a room full of kids over and over and over again and I have told them that Jesus loves them. I have told them with songs and puppets and silly games that Jesus wants to be their best friend.

I have told them. I have been working with them long enough, that for many of the kids in our church, I have told them a hundred times how much Jesus longs to to be number on in their lives. They know it because they have heard me say it.

But many of them don't believe it. The don't believe that Jesus really changes things. They don't believe that Jesus can come into some one's life that was screwed up and change them. They don't believe me, because they haven't seen me live that way.

Research shows that by the time kids turn 18, they are aren't just slowly dropping out of the church. They are running. As fast as they can, they are deserting a culture that cared more about telling them how to live right than it did showing them. They don't leave the church because we didn't tell them. They leave because we failed to show them a life that would cause them to believe us.

That makes me sick to my stomach. That keeps me up at night. That makes my heart so sad that I simply can't pretend to be happy. That makes me wanna scream and fight and more importantly, it makes me wanna change.

It means that I believe the things that I tell them are true. It means I believe that God can show up in my own screwed up life, and make it better then OK, make it right. It means that I stop living everyday as a sentence and start living it as a story. It means I let go of some things that I have become far too good at holding on to.

It means that I have to move. To be honest, I am not even sure I know what that means. But I do know that not doing it is not an option. The stakes are too high not to make a move.

No one can fathom....

2011-04-06T13:05:00.000-07:00

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:18-31

I really love this verse. I love the comfort that it offers, the assurance that it brings, but most of all, I love that it calls me out EVERY time. The truth is I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. I can handle that all by myself. I can throw a pity party like no one else.

No body understands how it feels.
No one understands the hurt.
No body knows what it is like to live this life of mine.

This verse shows up right in the middle of my party for one and guts me.

Today was awful. Brutal even. Isaak lost control of himself at the dentist office and we left behind a path of destruction. There were those looked on in disgust, some in pity, others in fear. His behavior goes against everything that we as adults know how to deal with. There is no reasoning, no waiting it out, no calming him down. At that minute, the most you can do is hold him so he doesn't hurt himself, me or anyone else.

I've been trained how to restrain him so that he doesn't hurt me physically. I've yet to figure out a way to protect my heart.

It hurts. More than hurts, it crushes me.

I'll be honest, in those moments it is impossible for me to think that there could be anything redeeming about the hurt. That there could be anything good that could come from it.

That God is even there at all. In my mind and in my heart, I convince myself that God has turned his face, not because he doesn't care, but because maybe he cares so much that he can't bear to watch it.

And then I read this.

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.

His understanding no one can fathom. On the days where I just want someone to understand how I feel. His understanding no one can fathom.

Today was awful. But I wasn't alone. And I will be OK. Not because I am strong. In fact,in spite of how weak I am. The Everlasting God. The Creator of the ends of the earth. Not alone, but held. Held by The One who, in those times, doesn't turn his face but instead leans in as close as he can and just waits with me.

I am thankful to be reminded of that today. Incredibly thankful.

Paint By Numbers

2011-03-27T15:46:00.000-07:00

Even as a little girl, I loved to create.
Paper, crayons, paint.
Anything that could be transformed.
Anything that could be made into something else.
Some of my favorite things to do were paint by numbers.

There was something magical about that white paper canvas.
Segmented into tiny shapes.
Individual boxes.
Each waiting to be filled. Waiting to be changed.
Waiting to be turned into something beautiful.

As an adult, my life mirrors that paper canvas.

Unrefined.
Blank.
Unfinished.
Numbered.
Segmented.

[63] [12] [73] [262]
[3] The age Isaak was diagnosed with Autism [6] [14]
[180] The number of pills he takes each month [9] [122]
[80] Estimated divorce rate among parents with Autistic child [2] [17]
[7] [18] The age kids go off to college...most kids...probably not ours [262] [4]

Numbers. Boxes

Segmented.
Individual.
Stand alone.
Isolated.
Sterile.

Until you begin to add color.

Each box begins to fill.
Each color merges into the one next to it.
Shapes turn into objects.
It begins to be something else.
It begins to be something different.

Cohesive.
Connected.
Interdependent.
Consecutive.
Coherent.

Transformed by the hand on someone.
One with a plan.
One who knew the color scheme.
One who took the time to color within the lines.
One that changes things.

Meticulous.
Aesthetic.
Imaginative.
Intact.
Whole.

A painting.
Not just a painting. A masterpiece.
Brush strokes that on their own are not beautiful.
In fact, some are ugly.
A piece of art created for the purpose of being shown.

Not created by someone. Created by the Creator.

I Love You Lord

2011-03-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

There have been so many times, when in a room surrounded with 30+ kids...
kids that are loud and don't always pay attention,
kids that need to be reminded to stay in their seats, to raise their hand, reminded to use their inside voices,
kids that need reminded over and over and over again....

It's in this space that I have met God in a way that I have never experienced before.

We have been learning a new song, Children and Kings, by Gungor.

If you don't think that kids get it.
If you don't think they are grown up enough or sophisticated enough or mature enough to really get it.
If you have ever thought that what happens in a room full of kids isn't really church....
isn't really worship....
isn't really that important....

Well, you have never stood in the back of the room and watched kids sing out these words...
"I Love You Lord"...
And not just sing them.
Mean them.

You have never watched a 4 year old little girl close her eyes and lift up her hands as she sang.
Not because she saw someone else do it first.
Not because she knew she was supposed to.
But because she was made to love Him.
Because her heart knows no other way than to lose herself in a song about loving Him.

It is easy to separate us.
To divide us into groups.
Adults. Students. Kids.
And all for very good reasons.

The truth is that in the end...
we all singing the same song.

Some Thoughts About Lent....

2011-03-11T13:41:00.000-08:00

I gotta be honest with you and tell you that until about a month ago, I really had no idea what lent even was. I knew it was a time when people gave up things, but that was the extent of it.

I grew up in a church where the Easter season began on Palm Sunday and included Maundy Thursday foot washing and an Easter Sunday sunrise service and breakfast. It took far longer for us to pick out what we were going to wear on Easter then it did to prepare our hearts for it.

This year is different. This year I am totally embracing lent for what it is. A time to confess my sins, to make changes in my life to ensure that those bad habits and behaviors are less likely to reappear and a time to prepare for what is about to come.

I do remember when I was younger and kids in school would give up bubble gum or Coke for lent. For them, I am sure that was a sacrifice. I know lots of people who are fasting from those things in order to spend more time with God or to donate the money that they would have spent on those things to a charity. God knows their hearts and they know what God has called them to give up.

But I know me.

If I am anything, I am predictable and I know how that would play out. I would give up Diet Pepsi for lent and spend the next 40 days lamenting about my withdraw. I would complain about it on Facebook and gain some encouragement from those that would spur me on, reminding me that I was fasting from caffeine for the Lord and that he would bless me for my sacrifice.

The sacrifice of going without Diet Pepsi each day when nearly half of the people in the world don't even have clean water to drink.

Easter Sunday would come and I would spend the next few days in a caffeine induced inebriation as I binged to make up for the last 40 days.

In the end, I would not come out of lent any different than I went into it. Still the same person that resists God at every turn and is constantly looking for a way to follow God on my own terms. Looking for the easy way.

To fast from, what to most people is a luxury, just doesn't seem to be what God is leading me to do.

Trust me, I have picked enough fights with God to know better. He always wins. Always.

And so this year, I have chosen to fast on the things in my life that continue to distract me from God. Instead, I will feast on the ways that God is constantly pulling me towards him. Looking for me, searching for me, longing for me to back to him.

I will fast from becoming so absorbed in this life of mine, from being the center of my own world. Instead of texting or talking on the phone while I am in public, I will stop and have a genuine conversation with the person behind the checkout counter. I will feast on human interaction. I will feast on the power of eye contact. Of a smile. I will feast on connecting with people, not because I think I have something to give to them, but because that is how God created us. I will feast on hearing other people's stories.

I will fast from being so busy or selfish that when someone shares a need with me, I tell them I will pray for them. Instead, I will feast on spending time with them and with God in that moment. Not praying for them. Praying with them.

I will fast from the words that cut people. Words that, even when whispered and in private, shred away at who a person is. Instead, I will feast on speaking loud. Letting everything that comes from my mouth be an encouragement and not a slap in the face. I will chose my words carefully at times and at other times, I will not censor what God is telling me to say simply because I don't want to overstep my boundaries or get something started.

I will fast from using God. From going to him after my own best efforts have failed. For treating him as that person that only gets an occasional update from me, not because I want them to know about my life, but because I feel obligated to. Instead, I will feast on spending time with God. Instead of reaching for my iPhone in the morning to see what I missed during the night, I will feast on going first to my Heavenly Father, to thank him for the safety of another night and the blessing of another day.

I am looking forward to this time of intentional disruption in order to make changes that are long past due.

What about you? What are you getting rid of in your life during lent in order to make room for the life God has planned for you?

Everyday

2011-02-16T08:36:00.000-08:00

Some people wake up to the sunshine. Some people wake up to the smell of coffee. Some people wake up the sound of giggling kids.

I wake up to Autism. We wake up to Autism. To loud, screeching, screaming, pounding Autism. To furious, fists clenched, teeth grinding Autism. To a hundred reasons why that day isn't worth even fighting for.

Everyday.

Everything is wrong. The room is too dark. The light is too bright. The house is too warm. The chair is too cold. The cereal is too crunchy. The bowl is too full. The pants are too tight. The shirt is too scratchy. The socks are too stretchy. The coat is to hot.

Everything is too much. Every single day.

The first hour of my day is hell. I begin everyday like this. Every single day.

Every single day we fight over just getting out of bed. Everyday I fear this might be the day when he stops threatening to hurt me or himself and actually does.

Everyday I wake up with this monster that lives inside of a little boy that never asked for this. Everyday I watch as the medicine kicks in that will tame that monster, if even for a little while. Every morning I watch him eat and then throw up because his stomach is a mess after the chaos of the first few minutes of the day. Everyday. Every single day.

Everyday we struggle just to get out the front door and into the car. Every morning we drive to school as I watch the color drain out of his face as the medicine begins to take him captive. Every morning I drop him off at school, knowing that the next
6 hours could go well or he could fall apart at every chance.

Everyday I take a deep breath as I drive out of the parking lot and remember that in that last hour I have been held. Through the chaos, through the noise, through the darkest hour of my day, I have been held by the One that understands.

With out fail. Everyday I am held. Every single day, when I don't even have the words to ask Him for help. Every singe day when I am so mad at Him that rather then trust Him, I want to scream at Him. Every single day.

Everyday.

A Note

2011-01-29T07:00:00.000-08:00

I recently started this little box that I keep at the church where kids can leave me notes. These can be comments, questions, prayer requests, really anything they want to tell me. I was sure to let them know that what they write to me isn't something that I am going to share with the other kids or their parents. It's really just meant to be a way for kids to share things with me in a space where they feel totally safe.

It is just a box. A plain cardboard box with a slit cut in it.

In the last two weeks I have gotten some really sweet notes from kids telling me that they had fun or what their favorite part of Kid's Worship is. I love reading them and it always makes me smile. There is one little girl who just leaves me notes with her name on them, because that is all that she knows how to spell.

It blows me away how much these amazing little kids just want to be connected to someone that loves them. Someone who isn't their parent or a family member. Someone that doesn't love them just because they are supposed to, but because they want to.

This morning when I got to the church I found a little piece of folded up paper in my box that I must have missed on Wednesday night. I unfolded it to read this...

I want to tell you that my Dad is not alive.

It was signed Love and then the girls name.

Wow.

I have developed a relationship with this little girl over the last couple of months since they started coming to church. I knew that her father was not living, but I don't know any of the details. I have never asked her about it because, honestly, when is the best time to bring something like that up.

For this little 5 year old girl, that is such a huge part of her story. The idea that she feels so loved and so safe in this space, safe enough to share that with me, means more than I have words for.

There is a reason why I spend my Saturdays in this building. There is a reason why I am here late at night during the week once my own kids have gone to bed. There is a reason why I would give my life for this church, not 5 or 10 years down the road when it is perfect, but today.

This morning I was reminded what that reason is.

Quiet Time

2011-01-19T13:06:00.000-08:00

The more I think I have everything figured out, the more I realize that I really don't even have a clue. Now I know that is going to be a shock to most of you, so take your time getting over that, and read on at your own pace.

I could go on for days and days listing all the ways that I have been proven wrong over the past year, but you would get bored after the 213th one, so I decided to narrow it down to a bit and share a few of them, one at a time. These are in no way ordered by philosophical importance, just things that finally cracked through this stubborn brain of mine.

Quiet Time

I have grown up hearing that term, but I'll be honest and tell you that I have never been really sure what "quiet" time is. I was fairly sure of a few things. First, it always took place before the sun woke up and was best acquired if you traveled to some sort of mountain top each morning. On the way to the mountain top you would listen to Sandi Patty and after a few hours of prayer God would lean down and kiss the earth, the sun would then break the horizon line and angels would sing and you would know that you had spent time with the Creator.

Another favorite term I remember from my childhood was going to your "prayer closet". Now this one really freaked me out. I imagined the old people of my church climbing in their closet each morning to have their quiet time with God. As I got older it made me chuckle a little to think that each morning they then "came out of the closet".

Anyway, there have been so many times in my life when I have made the decision to wake up before the sun and spend time reading the bible and praying. To do what real Christians do, the kind that not only get to live in Heaven, but get to live in the part that is a gated community past the standard pearly gates, the diamond studded gates. Like the houses that are down the street from Max Lucado and Carmen, where Ray Boltz sings every night at the all you can eat buffet. Super Christian territory.

As many times as I had tried it, I had failed. The reasons are varied. Sometimes quiet time....early morning....in the dark ....in the quiet....would often turn to sleeping time. When I was able to stay awake I would play that Bible game that everyone has played at sometime in their lives, where I would close my eyes and open it up to a random page and expect pixie dust to fall out and angels sing as God reveals something special that only my eyes would ever see. That never happened. I tried doing devotionals or "just" praying, but it never seemed to have the power that everyone else talked about. It was like maybe I was just so close to God that He really didn't need a special time with me. He was busy moving in the lives of the other sinners and he just wanted me to sleep an extra hour. In my delusional mind it all made perfect sense.

And then something changed. Committed to figuring this whole thing out, I began to experiment a little with quiet time. I usually spend an hour or so every evening reading through the lessons that I am going to teach to the kids on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. Slowly, what happened is that I started to not just see them but to look into them in a way that I had not before. Those same scriptures that were part of the lesson to be taught to 2nd and 3rd graders had an all new meaning for me. I had found a space to do my quiet time, it just looked nothing like I had expected.

At 5 am in the morning, I still think that I can do it all on my own. In the quiet darkness of a new day, Matthew 5 was written for someone else, someone less fortunate than me. Before the day starts, I have a plan in place for how and where I will allow God to work and be seen.

At the end of the day I am beaten up, I am drained of every ounce of feeling like I could ever control this life. At the end of the day Matthew 5 is not only for me, it often is the only thing that makes doing it all over again the next day a possibility. At the end of the day I am able to look back over the last 12 hours and know that none of it was of my own strength, to see all the places where I was held.

So it's not in the morning, it's not structured, I never go into my closet, but it's our time. I'm ok with not living down the street from Billy Graham in heaven. Hopefully I will be able to hear the Winans from my chic little studio apartment.

One Word

2011-01-07T06:48:00.000-08:00

One Word. Not a list of the things I wish I could change, but probably won't. Not a list of resolutions that will last through January. Not a list of unreachable goals. Just one word.

One word that will guide and shape the decisions that I make. One word that I will live out everyday. With lots of contemplation and even more prayer, I have decided on my one word.

Story.

I have a story. I actually have many stories.

I have an inner story. The story in my heart. The one that is an improvisational portrayal of what it looks like to be completely loved and adored by a God that lavishes favor upon me despite my despicable behavior.

I have another story. The narration that is told through my actions. The story that is ever changing to fit in with my surroundings. Fiction. Sarcasm. Slander.

In 2011, I want to live an authentic story. I am not even completely confident that I know what that means at this point, but it is my one word.

Story.

iNFUSE

2010-08-20T17:46:00.000-07:00

The last few months we have been trying to come up with a new name for our Children's Ministry. I mean, not that Lafayette First Church of the Nazarene Children's Ministry isn't catchy, it just sounds more like a dental procedure than a fun place to come and hang out and learn about Jesus.

I wish I could say that coming up with a new name was easy. It was anything but. There are lots of implications that come with naming something. Think about when you named your kids. We went through every possible scenario when choosing our boy's names. What does the name mean, what are the possible nicknames, will they ever be able to find a pencil at Cracker Barrel with their name on it, how does it sound with our last name, how does it sound when the teacher calls it out, is it easy to spell, will other kids beat them up for their name, does it rhyme with a bad word?

The process was the same with a Children's Ministry name. I knew early on what I was not ok with. Nothing where the letters "c" or "s" were replaced with "k" or "z". That automatically eliminated the Kool Kidz Klub. I figure, if we are teaching kids, we probably should at least teach them how to spell correctly.

We have also been going through the process of figuring out exactly what our goals as a ministry are. We believe 200% in the church mission statement of encouraging all to be passionate followers of Christ, but what does that mean to a 7 year old?

After lots of thought and discussion and prayer, here is what we came up with:

Our mission is that every kid that comes through our doors would experience the WONDER of God, DISCOVER what is means to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and that they would begin to see themselves in light of who God created them to be and live that out with a PASSION for loving God and loving others.

Wonder. Discovery. Passion.

These three words are at the core of our Children’s Ministry and the driving force behind everything we do. From infants to preteens, our mission is to infuse the elements of wonder, discovery and passion to help them see God for who He is and to see themselves in the way God sees them so they can love others the way God does.

And so.....wait for it......wait for it.........(drum roll)............

iNFUSE

That is gonna be our new name. I know, the lower case i is a little cheesy, but hey, kids like cheesy and it worked for Apple. What do you think? Would you wanna hang out with us?

Indifferent

2010-07-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

Lately church for me has been a struggle. I have spent lots of Sunday's faking it, not being fully committed. Just feeling indifferent. Times where I have stood in front of a group of kids and not been sure that anything that I was saying or doing really mattered. No sure that I was in the right place, that God had surely screwed up when He told me this was His plan for me. Today, if even just for a minute, that changed.

It has been something that was coming. Something that God has been stirring in me for quite awhile. Something that I was no longer able to avoid.

Some people hear God in a whisper..in the wind..in a quiet voice. None of those are really God's style with me. It's like he knows he has to scream if I am going to hear Him over the chaos I've created.

Today, He screamed at me through the hand of a 12 year old boy that I have gotten to know since his family moved to the church. A 12 year old boy that got out of his seat and walked to the front of the church, breaking every rule that 12 year old boys have about being noticed or showing emotion.

I was at the alter dealing with so many of the things that have convinced me that being indifferent with God is better than not being with God at all. As I was there praying, I felt a small hand on my back. A small, 12 year old boys hand that had come to pray with me.

I am not sure I have ever felt so humbled...so loved...so sure...so anything but indifferent.

The truth that I have been trying so hard to resist is that I have a passion for the kids of our church. A passion that sometimes doesn't have words, doesn't make sense and most definitely is far beyond anything that I would ever be capable of carrying out without God leading me.

A passion for loving God by loving these kids that has no room for indifference.

Orange Thoughts

2010-04-21T10:13:00.001-07:00

A week from today(6 days, 5 hours and 45 minutes to be exact)I will be in Georgia for the opening session of Orange Conference 2010. To say that I am excited is an understatement. I still don't think it has set in yet that I am actually going. I got so excited earlier today when I got the link for the live broadcast of Orange 2010 and then I had to remind myself that I would actually be there.

As excited as I am, I am also terrified. I will let you in on a little secret, one that probably really isn't that much of a secret to those of you that really know me. For all the swagger and ego and self confidence that I seem to have, I am so very easily intimidated. I still have fears that at the opening session they are gonna sing the song I sing with the preschoolers that goes "One of these things is not like the other...." and then the spotlight will land on me.

I mean really, who am I kidding? I have no business in a room with people like Reggie Joiner, Donald Miller, Jim Wideman, Kendra Fleming...the list goes on and on. I am going to the official Orange Tweet Up Wednesday night where I will meet people who's blogs and tweets I have followed for the past year and who I feel like I already know. But seriously, what in the world would they have in common with me. I image that all conversations will start with small talk like..... "Where did you graduate from....how many campuses does your church have....how many thousand kids do you serve each week...which of your Ph.D's is your favorite" The thought of that numbs me.

I don't even have the words to express the passion I have for serving in Children's Ministry and how much I have fallen head over heels in love with our church and it's people. I have this crazy dream for kids and their families, one that I know has to have come from God, because I'm just not that brave or bold on my own. But still, there is so much fear in owning that and letting other's know about it. There is an accountability that comes with spending three days with the most brilliant minds in family ministry.... and it is overwhelming.

I really want this experience to be transformational for me. I don't want it to be about changing to be more like a book or buying into a "system", but truly and honestly changed. And not like Jr. High church camp changed. The real thing that lasts more than a weekend.

I know that in order for this experience at Orange 2010 to really impact me, I am gonna have to get over the fact that alone, I really don't belong there. There is nothing that I have or ever will do that will warrant be being in such incredible company. I get that. I need constantly reminded that it most definitely isn't about me.

My prayer is that even though I know I will say dumb stuff and look out of place and at least once or twice have the urge to retreat due to just being overwhelmed, that I will take in every second of it and not just be there, but really BE there. And I pray that God, who most defiantly has a crazy sense of humor, will use the things that I learn about ministry and the things that I learn about myself during this time to move in ways that right now I'm unable to even fathom.

I can't wait.

A Love Movement

2010-02-11T16:36:00.000-08:00

About a year ago I became involved in an incredibly cool organization called To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA). In their own words:

To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

More impressive than their mission is their vision.

A Love Movement.

That's what they call it. It sounds simplistic and yet it is transforming lives. Lives that have been broken, overcome by sadness, cut and consumed by substance. People that would be the last to be loved, the last to expect love, the last to ask to be loved. And yet A Love Movement is what is saving their lives. Every month I get to send handwritten letters and art work to people that have turned to TWLOHA for help and have entered residential treatment just to tell them that they are loved. Me, a stay at home Mom in Indiana, telling people that I will never know that they are valued and that they are loved. That blows my mind.

A Love Movement.

Tomorrow is To Write Love On Her Arms day. A day where we will write Love on our arms to raise awareness about the struggle that millions of people all around us are dealing with. I think that sometimes it is easy to look at someone who faces addiction, depression or self injury and think that could never be you.

But I know it could be me. I know just how close I am to it being me. To want to feel something so badly that even feeling pain is better than being numb. To deal with noises that are loudest in silence. To crave an escape from things real and imagined. I can look back at my life and I can rearrange circumstances and experiences like puzzle pieces and all of the sudden I am there. I am that person. The one that breaks to bleed. The one that gets high to forget. The one that hurts to feel.

And yet it's not me. It's them. It's those people that I feel so drawn to. I can't help but to think that if Jesus were giving the sermon on the mount today, these are the ones that he would point to when he spoke about the meek. These are the people for whom the blessing would be given, those that would inherit the earth. That is incredible to me.

Week 3 of the Kindgom Experiment

2010-01-28T06:08:00.000-08:00

I sat in a room last night with people who were sharing openly about some of the hardest times in their lives. Times when they mourned. Their stories were honest and personal and raw....and all in the past tense. Mourning. Something they did. Something that they worked through. A time in the past when they were comforted. Their words and their faces and their tears were beautiful.

Those that shared last night lost something or someone that was important to them. It happened one day, one time, either expected or out of the blue. But it was still that one time. The day their parent died. The day they had to say goodbye. The end of a marriage. The day they got divorced. A single event. Something that can be marked on a calendar and grieved and remembered and honored. That one day.

...but blessed are those who still mourn? Who still, day after day after day live in the same place they were originally broken. I don't know.

One of our experiments from FCU this week is this:

Going. Going. Gone

Worship pastor Mike Crawford sings these words:
"Blessed when plans
that you so carefully laid
end up in the junkyard with
all the trash you made"

Consider yourself and those you know who mourn the loss of a future that will never be realized. Spend a week considering how God redeems the dreams and futures of those he loves.

And so I will.

Kiva

2010-01-24T17:30:00.001-08:00

Mukono, Uganda is a place that I will never probably visit. To be honest, it was a place that I didn't even know existed until early last week, and yet it is a place that I can't get off of my mind. Apolot Grace is her name and she has four kids and a husband who works a job as a civil servant. She works as a tailor, a farmer and runs a General Store. She lives in a country that has an average life expectancy of 45 years, a literacy rate of 60% and an average annual income of $1,700. By my standards, she would be poor in spirit. Not by hers. The first line of her profile reads.."Apolot Grace is a hard working lady with lots of vision.."
Vision.... I immediately fell in love with her in one sentence.

One of the challenges from week one of FCU was to pick an experiement, a sort of experiential learning opportunity, to put into practice the things that we have been talking about. One of the options was to participate in this incredibly cool micro-lending program that provides loans to people in underdeveloped places all over the globe through kiva.com.

In this upside down, backwards, counter intuitive Kingdom, the notion that Apolot Grace's and my paths would intertwine is nothing but ordinary. Nothing special, nothing to blog about or go on about. Just normal. That might be the coolest thing about it.

First Church University

2010-01-19T08:23:00.000-08:00

One of the many really awesome things that has happened at our church over the last year of so is the introduction of First Church University, or FCU. It is this powerful, intimate, reciprocative time of not just studying the scripture, but dissecting and discussing and deliberating in order to make sense of it in a way that changes not just our thinking, but our lives. It has come to be the highlight of my week and we just began a new study of the Beatitudes called The Kingdom Experiment.

I have to admit that I kind of felt like I might be burnt out on the Beatitudes. I have been listening to Rob Bell and friends at Mars Hill while I am at the gym and they have been doing a lengthy study of the Sermon on the Mount. When Pastor Troy announced that the new FCU study was going to cover the Beatitudes, I might have ......yawned. However, I am finding out more and more that God knows how I think and more importantly how I don't, and this feeling like my iPod is stuck on replay with the Sermon on the Mount is no sort of accident.

We began our first FCU session last week and were challenged to really discover what Jesus meant when he referred to those that were poor in spirit. As happens every week, there are people that offer ideas that cause me to think in ways that I haven't before. One thing that last weeks discussion really reiterated for me was more of what the poor in spirit are not. It's not someone who has tried and failed and is open to God moving through their lives. It is not someone who is humble enough to raise up their hands and give their situation to God. It's not the sad or the scarred or those that feel life's uncertainty. I believe that Jesus was talking about those who struggle to merely exist in a consuming sense of depravity. Those who would lift their hands up and give in if they had the strength, but for them just the act of taking a breath is almost more than they can do. It's a state that is beyond broken, but decimated.

If this is true, if these are the people to which Jesus announces the inheritance of the Kingdom of God, then it changes everything. It flips upside down this idea I have of what living is all about. If the Kingdom of God is so extravagantly different than the world I exist in, I have no choice but to change the way that I live. It's like I have been given this incredible secret, I was given the first and last chapters of the story, to write the middle with no regard to the final scene would be insane.

And so that is where I am. In that place that is all too familiar, where thoughts, feelings, the need to do something, the need to do anything differently.... all collide. One of the really cool parts of the Kingdom Experiment study is to chose an experiment, or challenge, to live out each week. I have finished my challenge for the first week and will be posting a blog about it later. I am excited and overwhelmed and just a little bit scared about what the next several weeks will bring. But I'm open.

..blessed are the poor in spirit..

2009-12-01T06:24:00.000-08:00

At least 100 times before, I have read or heard the verses of Matthew 5, the Beatitudes. At least 100 times I have thought they weren't written for me. I convinced myself that the "conditions" that Jesus spoke of are those of non believers and that as a Christian, I was automatically excluded from them. For the first time I am learning to see them for what they are. Not a suggestion or instruction or excuse. Instead, a simple and extravagant announcement. No conditions, no fine print. Made in general to all mankind and specifically breathed just for me.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5:3

Blessed are the poor in spirit, when I swore that the last time was the last time and yet here I am. Unsure of how I got here. Unclear of what draws me back time and time again. Ashamed and guilty. Tired of asking for forgiveness from you and yet unable to forgive myself. Ready to promise again but not sure if I mean it or if I even want to. When words and conversations play over and over again in my mind as a constant reminder of failure. When I lay down to sleep and the darkness only makes them louder.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, when the most painful place to exist is in my mind. When I allow myself to dream and get lost in a place that doesn't exist. There in my subconscious is the life I have convinced myself I deserve and it looks nothing like the life I live on the other side. Just like punching your fist through a glass window, it hurts to go through it but the real pain is in pulling your arm that is already cut,vulnerable and raw back through the jagged glass to only be gashed even deeper. And yet, I still do it. Comparing becomes obsessive and only adds to the scars.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, on days when being his mom feels anything like a blessing and more like a sentence. On days when my "religion" tells me that I have failed because I serve a God of an empty tomb, and with that comes only joy and yet I am stuck in the sorrow of three days before.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Annoyed.....

2009-11-11T13:44:00.000-08:00

I love lots of things. Lots of things make me happy and giddy. Lots of things make me wanna smile and laugh. There are also lots of things that don’t. Here is a very short list of the things that are rubbing me the wrong way today….

~Pants that come with the back pockets sewn closed. Isn’t that ridiculous? Does this happen with men’s pants? And what it the name of Jelly Beans is the reason for it? Even more annoying than the stitching is that the only time that I think about taking them out is when I am wearing the pants, which is most inconvenient. It is not only inappropriate, but also almost physically impossible to be able to cut the stitches when you are wearing them. Ugh…

~Parents in the drop off lane at school that take 27 minutes to get their kids out of the car. I mean, seriously, your kid is gonna be at school for 6 hours, just slow down and push them out. There is a whole line of people behind you waiting to do the same. And then you always get that one renegade parent who doesn’t have time to wait behind the loiterer and then they get out of line and mass vehicular chaos ensues. Let’s get it together people.

~I really love to watch MLS soccer, but I very strongly dislike the fanatics, aka fans. Why in the world do they let them bring confetti and toilet paper rolls into the game? I mean, I know that it would be hard to look through their tents and base drums and fire pits and such that they bring into the stands, but come on. If they absolutely insist on being crazy, please keep them away from both the goals and the corners. Or at least get an umbrella for the poor guy that has to take a corner kick while being pelted with toilet paper and confetti.

~Then and than. I really can’t figure out when to use which one. Why is that so hard? Do we really need two words that mean basically the same thing? Can’t we all just agree to use either one or the other? It would really make my life much easier.

~People who write checks in a retail store. I have no tolerance what so ever for this. If you don’t have cash you have two options, either use your debit/credit card or don’t buy it. If you have to write a check for it, then you really weren’t prepared enough to even deserve the right to buy it. And on the off chance that you are prehistoric enough to need to write a check, for the love of Todd, have it filled out before the cashier gives you the total. The point where the lady says $26.37 is not the point where you should begin to dig in your patchwork leather purse with the tassels to find you checkbook.

~And finally, and maybe most importantly because it is today, Wal - Mart on the day Social Security checks come out. Enough said.

An Inadequate Arguement

2009-10-29T17:53:00.000-07:00

"The other function of your journal is to show you to yourself"~Kim Addonizio

I have been trying really hard to write happy. I wish it wasn’t so hard. I mean, it isn’t hard to fake it, to write of rainbows and lollipops and unicorns. It just isn’t me.

I am not even sure why it matters so much to me. Why do I want to open my journal and fairy dust fall out. I think the why has to do more with perception then it does with reality.

I am a happy person. I really am. I swear. I am secure and safe. I am not a suicidal serial killer. I am not 13-year-old girl drama. I am not melodramatic or angry or depressed. Ok, maybe a little dramatic. But when I write from my soul, one might think otherwise.

I am trying to come to terms with this. Trying to accept it as just how I am. That it isn’t a sign of depravity, contamination or pollution. I have been trying. Trying really hard.

The following poem that I wrote today does no justice to my argument.

Starved, but not yet hungry
Innate, but not yet inherent
Contagious, but not yet infected

Tangible, tethered.

Autonomous

Stentorian, blatant

Inaudible

Canonical, orthodox

Defiant

Real, but not yet authentic
Permeable, but not yet translucent
Transitional, but not yet altered

Surreal

2009-10-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

The feeling is surreal.
How could I have known you for so long, yet not?
My first reaction was to be angry.
Why didn’t anyone show me this you?
Why didn’t anyone tell me that there was a different way?

I was taught to admire and adore and to worship you.
To praise you and to pray to you.
To trust you and to fear you.
I was told to love you.
I was never told I could be in love with you.

I have spent so much time trying to do it right.
Trying to make it look right.
Forcing it.
Manipulating it.
Faking it.
It looked right.
It felt all wrong.

I’ll never forget the first time it was different.
Emmaus Road changed the way I saw you.
In dark, quiet room I experienced you in a way I never knew was possible.
There were at least 20 other people there, and yet I was alone with you.
It was more then sensing you.
It was feeling you. Hearing and touching and tasting you.
In a way I didn’t even know was possible.
It was life changing.
It was amazing.
It was terrifying.
But it was real.

There have been times since that night.
In a book, in a song, in worship services.
Alone and with other people, it has happened.
It is still just as amazing, just as real.
But with it come less fear and more longing.

Longing for it not to stop.
Craving that it lasts.
Praying that I don’t give up.
That I don’t come up with enough excuses to make the old way enough.
Needing to remember that it wasn’t you that changed.
You were always there.
You were waiting for me.
Waiting for me to change.

August 30, 2009

2009-08-30T17:16:00.000-07:00

I can't even begin to tell you how confused I am.
I imagined this step to be so much easier.
I thought I would be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
I thought you would make it easier.
I didn't plan for it to be this hard.

You know how I think, how I feel, how I am.
You know that I leap before thinking.
You know that I don't have to be sure.
You know this because you made me like this.
Why then can't I do it now?

I think I saw you today.
Or was it just my imagination.
Have I just wanted it too much, for too long?
Am I making today more than what it was?

I don't want to be wrong about this.
I cant be wrong again.

Journal Entry August 23rd

2009-08-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday was the first session of our new Fireproof study with our Sunday School class. It is a really cool group of people and we are looking forward to growing so much through it. The first question that we were asked last week was to share how we met our spouse and what first attracted us to them. This is what I wrote about that night....

Sunday, August 23rd

What did I notice first? Wow, it is hard to even remember back that far.
The first thing that comes to mind was his shoes.
Funny huh? Really, his shoes?
I thought that I recognized him and then I saw that he was wearing Samba's.
When I saw he had on soccer shoes I knew it was the same guy.
But there was more than that, more than shoes.

At 16 most guys are the same, and that needs no further explanation.
He wasn't that.
He wasn't that at all.
There was no macho, no bravado, no forced attempt at cool.

But there was swagger.
I guess that is what I really fell for at first.
Swagger. That sounds so gangster.
I don't even know what else to call it.
Confidence. Self Esteem. Self Assurance.
None of those sound as good as swagger.

It wasn't long after I fell for his attitude, that I fell in love with his heart.

He is in many ways the opposite of me.

I am loud. I think out loud.
I am emotional. I show my emotions even when I try to hide them.
I am impulsive. I act first and regret later.
I am dramatic. Ouch, I can't believe I just said that. I am dramatic.

He is reserve.
He protects his emotions and shares them with those that he trusts.
He thinks first. And second, and third, and eventually he acts. Maybe.
He is not drama. Not at all.

I am difficult to love, I have no doubt about that.
I can be incredibly frustrating.
There are times when I am so unhappy, that it seems impossible for him to even know where to start to make me feel better.

But he does.
I don't know how or even why sometimes, but he does.

1, 275......

2009-08-25T17:15:00.001-07:00

I posted my 1,275Th tweet today. I ain't braggin, it is what it is,

There are a few ways to look at it. You can pick one or make up your own.

One is that I have way too much time on my hands and some might argue the need for a full time vocation.

Another possibility is that I just have a lot to say. Stuff that is useless, random, vague, odd, hateful, confusing.....you get the point.

The third possibility is probably closer to the truth. Therapy. Less sweaty then tanning, way cheaper then shopping. You would be surprised the release that 140 characters can bring.

Hey, you got your thing, I got mine.

You Called Me What?

2009-08-23T18:11:00.001-07:00

Today was just strange. The truth is that I really didn't want to go to church today. I didn't want to go, but I didn't have the guts to not go.
I have been struggling with some things for the last several weeks, and I knew that I wasn't anywhere near strong enough to do this today.

Who knew that a sermon series called The Wrestler would have to be so literal. I have been wrestling with God, if that is what you can even call it. To be honest, it feels more like MMA than tumbling around on the mat. Punching, kicking, grappling. Ugly at times, but necessary. Today was no different.

In my wrestling with God, I have been demanding some things. Things that probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else. Things that I had to see and hear and feel in order to tap out, to submit. I have told him the list, shouted it at him, whispered it while he had me pinned to the ground.

I think he answered me today. But I think he called me Leah.

In the middle..

2009-08-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Today there are many people that I care so much for that are on top of the world.

They have experience miracles in their lives.
They have fought battles and won.
They have seen their dreams and wishes come true.
They have planned and struggled and waited.
For so many of them their waiting has ended.

They are in that place, different for each person, but yet the same.

In college...in love...pregnant...healthy...home...gone...free...taken..

I have been there with many of them, watched them dream and struggle.
I have held their hands, assured them it would be OK..even when I wasn't sure it would be.
For them, my joy and happiness is genuine. It isn't forced or fake.

They are on top of the world, I just wish I could stand there with them.

For others in my life, today they are at their lowest.

In 20 minutes a family that I know will say goodbye for the last time to their mom who died on Monday after battling cancer for three years. A little eight year old girl that will stand there, her 12 year old brother and older sisters will try to make her understand something that defies explanation.

Others are sick. Their physical body is failing them. They have wished and hoped and prayed for healing. It has not come.

Others are heart broken, they have trusted people and been let down. There are people in their lives who have taken things from them that can't be returned. They have watched their families be destroyed by the other woman. They feel like it will never be better, the pain will never get better. I want to tell them that it will, but sometimes I am not convinced myself.

They are in that place, different for each person, but still the same.

Sick...lonely...hurt...heart broken...tired...ashamed...guilty...addicted...

Today, they are at their lowest. My concern and care for them is real. My desire for them to rise up, to find peace, is genuine. I want to be there for them, and yet I never want to be to the point where I stand next to them.

Two total extremes, the best and the worst.

I guess what I am struggling with the most right now is how to exist in the middle.

Room 22

2009-08-13T19:05:00.001-07:00

I am so thankful for the difference that a few hours can make. I am not sure if it was time, the nap or the conversation and support from friends that made the difference. The truth is that it was a probably a combination of all of them and then some.

Nine hours ago I thought the world was coming to an end. Nine hours ago the worst possible scenario in my mind had just played out. I walked out of Isaak's new school feeling like I had been punched in the stomach. Full time special education was the last thing that I was prepared for. I was prepared for some resource room time, I wasn't prepared for 61%. I was looking forward to him having some extra help, I was not expecting a full time aid when he was at lunch and recess. I wasn't expecting them to say he could only ride the special needs bus, I wasn't expecting formal IEP's and scheduling for systematic observations. I was shocked and overwhelmed.

Nine hours ago it was all about me.

Now it is about room 22.

Imagine a place where everything feels right, it feels safe and secure, welcoming and warm. It is like a little oasis in the middle of the structure and norms of the rest of the school. Room 22 isn't a place for kids that are special, but you feel special because you are in it. The teacher there is this tall, strong, handsome man that kinda looks like Clark Kent, he even has the glasses. He is real. There is no other way to describe him. Genuine.

The desks in room 22 are different. The chairs at the desks are different. They have big red rubber pillow looking things on them to help with sensory issues. The layout is different. Room 22 has it's own bathroom. It has it's own couch and sink and even it's own soundproof time out room. The ceiling and tops of the cabinets are lined with model airplanes.

There are 6 students ranging from 1st to 5Th grade in room 22. There are 6 kids, one teacher and 7 resource aids. Room 22 is well staffed to say the least, but it is staffed with the kind of people that you would hand pick if you were going to be spending time there.

The motto in room 22 is "all together". In room 22, anything can be accomplished when they do it "all together". After spending only a few minutes in room 22, you have no choice but to believe that to be true.

In room 22, there is no time to consider how many rooms away the other 2ND graders are. It isn't about any of that. Most of all, it isn't about me.

Nine hours ago I hated the idea of it. Right now I am encouraged by it, on the verge of being in love with it.

August 13, 2009

2009-08-13T06:43:00.000-07:00

Trying really hard right now to prepare myself for what is ahead today. I am meeting with the GLASS and special education department at Isaak's new school in about an hour. We are going to decide if he is able to be in a main stream class and if so, if he will require a full time aid. It is strange to try to prepare myself for something that I really thought would never come. How do you just be in a moment that you would give anything not to be in? I need help right now to make sense of it all. It is gonna be a long day.

And so my prayer today is that I can step out of the emotion of it, step out of how bad it hurts and just be present in the reality of it. God, help me to listen, to really listen to these people that you have placed in our lives for a reason. Most of all, when I want to give up today, when I need to revert to where I find comfort, don' let me.

Is There Another Way To Look At It?

2009-08-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

I use Imagination Prompt Generator when I am having trouble getting started writing. There are times when the prompts are silly and seem to make no sense. There are other times when I know that they are not a coincidence. Today was one of those days....

August 12, 2009

Is there another way to look at it?
The most honest answer I have is....God, I hope so.
More than just hoping.
Dreaming...wishing..demanding.

There has to be another way to look at it.
Another way to see this life.
If there isn't, I don't want to know.
Please don't tell me that I am wrong.
Lie to me if you have to, but I have to believe that there is.
That this way is not only different, but infinitely better.

Many days the view of it from here is ugly.
It's dark and the shapes are so skewed that it is hard to make them out.
Unrecognizable. Incomprehensible.
Don't tell me this is the only way.
I'm afraid if you do, I might start to believe you.

Instead tell me, no, show me the other way to see it.
Grab my face if you need to, get my attention, make me see the other way.
Tell me..show me.. over and over and over again.
When I forget, remind me. Scream if you have to.
Make me listen and make me see it.

Please don't let me miss it.
Don't let me get so caught up in looking for it that I can't see it.
Don't let me stare at it for so long that my eyes become accustomed to the dark.
So used to the dark that that my eyes can't bare to see light.
Keep me from being too tired to continue looking.
Too jaded, too bitter, too bruised.

Is there another way to look at it?
I know there is.
What I long for is that it is more then just another.
Not another failed attempt, another program, another phase.
Not just another person, not feelings..or words..or things..

More than just another way to look at it.
Assure me there is only one other way to look at it.
Please let me see it.
Let me not only see it, but believe it.
Not only believe it to be possible, but see it.
Let me see that there is one other way to look at it.
Let me see that way in the reflection in the mirror.

One of those days....

2009-08-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

It has just been one of those days, and it is not even noon yet. Luke just got out of a time out for giving his brother a black eye. When he was done apologizing to Isaak, he had to pray and ask for forgiveness from God. Here is what he said....

"Dear Jesus, thank you for all this food (we were not eating), please make me to not punch Ikey in the face anymore or to call him stupid or dumb. Please make Mommy stop being mean at me and to make her to stop yelling at me like Optimus Prime. I am sorry for hitting Ikey with his lizard, please make Ikey go back to summer camp so I can stop fighting him and so that I dont make him dead. Please be with my Daddy so that he wont break his face anymore and thank you for my "Piderman" poster and make it not scare me at night time and thank you for Santa and make him to bring me that race car thing. Thank you for getting me Cheetos at town and that I can go to Monkey Joes with my whole family and I can punch Isaak in that jumping thing......Mommy, what was I supposed to say ? Maybe I "tan" just start over....Dear Jesus..."

More Like A Shuffle

2009-07-28T18:03:00.001-07:00

I have convinced myself that what I do, what I say, how I live is fine.
It's not like it is bad.
I just do what everyone else does.
No one gets hurt.

Realizing that someone does get hurt has been hard.
Especially when the person getting hurt is the One that loves me the most.
Love beyond comprehension.

Today I made another tiny little step towards the life that I long for.
Maybe less of a step.
More like a shuffle.
Too small of a movement to even be noticed.
Unnoticeable by all but One.
The One that cares the most.

I am anxious to take that big step.
The one that everyone sees.
Everyone notices.
Anxious and scared
Scared of the imprint left beind when I actually do move.

So many questions and fears about what is to come.
More questions and fears about what happens if it doesn't.
Is that tiny step enough to even matter?
Less of a step.
More like a shuffle.

Dreams and Wishes

2009-07-25T18:18:00.000-07:00

Journal
July 8, 2009

Today Isaak asked me if I had three wishes what would they be. I couldn't come up with an answer...

I am trying to figure out when I stopped wishing.
Wishing.
Dreaming.
Aren't they the same?

Did I ever really stop?
Did I stop dreaming or did I just stop admitting it.
If I give voice to a dream, I am responsible for making it happen.
It stops being abstract and becomes a goal.
It becomes another thing to bring disappointment.
Another place to fail.

So instead of letting them go, I hold on tightly.
Afraid that someone might get just a glimpse of them.
Afraid that I might not be able to ignore them.

I grew up being told I could be anything I wished to be.
That was a lie.
What I wished for, what I dreamed of...will never be.
It wasn't my choice.
Autism was never part of my dream.
I never wished it.
I never wanted it, but it is what we got.
They say dreams come true.
Mine didn't.

I still have to answer the question. Three wishes....

I would wish to eliminate Autism. Not just from our lives, but from the world.
That one is easy.
The other two are not.
Not easy because I don't know or not easy because I am scared to say?
Not sure I have an answer for that, but i will.

As for Isaak, he had no trouble coming up with three....
to be an archaeologist, to find a rare dinosaur fossil in Egypt and to be the best dodge ball player in the world...

June 7, 2009

2009-07-07T19:15:00.000-07:00

I have so much to say, but none of the words make sense.
Not even to me.

I still find myself caring too much about the things I shouldn't.
I can't make myself care enough about the things I should.

I have all the right names for how I should feel.
I have them on lists, in categories, laid out.
The problem is that I don't have the feelings to match.

I have an abundance of feelings.
On my mind, on my heart.
All too often I wear them on my sleeve.
Hidden. For all the world to see.

These feeling don't have words.
They don't have pretty words.
They don't make sense to anyone but me.
Yet, I often can't understand them.

I have so much I need to say right now.
So many things that I need to give voice to.
Things that give me life.
Things that sufficate me.

I have so much to say.
I just don't know where to start.
More importantly where to end.

Stream of Thoughts...

2009-06-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

I try to write for at least 5 minutes every night. Sometimes it is deep, heartfelt, therapeutic. Other times, not so much. Last night was one of the latter times. Here was what popped into my head over that 5 minutes. This is how my mind works all day, it is amazing that I ever get anything done..

Monday, June 22nd

Busy day, got lots of stuff done for Luke's party...I forgot to invite Krista and Troy, I better face book her tomorrow..Still need to get a pinata or Luke will have a coronary...Luke, Isaak and a huge stick might be my worst nightmare...
Forgot to get Ike's goggles from Mamaw's house...I need to put that on my list before I go to bed...I also need to make a grocery list for VBS...
Don't forget to talk to Ricia, Robyn and Janice to get their lists.
Call Keith tomorrow about t shirts...I also need to call Troy about the picture...I can't believe I forgot to call Cheri Tague today... I have to call and check on her tomorrow, I hope she is doing better...I should call Holly too...uhg...maybe not...I love this song...I should get this cd, if I don't already have it...it might be on 18 Kids...need to check on that...I think I missed Jon and Kate plus 8...How does thread get to school..a spool bus...I think that was Ike's joke...I don't think he got it...Oh, I love this song even more...there is no way that is Gene Simmons...Who is that singing...I need to google that...I danced to this song at a Christmas dance in high school...OMG, I can't believe he is gay...That makes 4 guys that I dated that are now gay...That could be a really good sign or a really bad one...I wonder what his boyfriend looks like...I cant believe how bald he is...kind of funny...I bet he is...nevermind....ick...Has it been 5 minutes yet...I think I am missing Run's House...I wonder if Brett knows it is on...I think he does...Gotta go to the bank tomorrow before I lose that check...again...I hope my bank girl is there...kind of creepy how much I love to see her...someone might read that in a few years and think I was a crazy stalker...but i do love her...I wonder what her name is...prolly something cute like Claire or Kristen...hope it is not Mary or Judy...that would totally ruin my obsession with her...too funny...4 minutes and 30 seconds is long enough!

Goodbye..

2009-06-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

Today I ended two relationships.
Relationships that have sustained..carried..supported..devastated me.
Parts of my life that have been dead long before I was ready to say goodbye.
Feelings that I fear will never die.

One relationship has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
I forget how it started..when it became so strong.
It was always toxic.
At times I thrived on how detrimental it was.
This friendship gave me the strength to do what was weak.
The excuse to make the wrong choice.
It was never really able to stop my conscience from knowing better.
It tried. It tried really hard.
The relationship failed me.
Failing it is what made me stronger.
I said goodbye to it tonight.

The other relationship was younger..but has always been there.
The face to it was new..the outline the same.
This friendship gave me power.
It made me feel loved..excepted..hated..
It came up underneath me and pushed me to the surface..long enough to breathe..
Then it pushed me under..held me down..
The pain and discomfort was exciting..numbing..
The relationship was broke from the beginning, never real...
At times is was closer to real than anything I had felt before.
I said goodbye to it tonight.

The hardest part of me saying goodbye is knowing how much I mean it.
It is knowing that I might change my mind.
It is knowing that the goodbyes were one sided.
These friendships still have life in them..
What if the other side is strong enough to keep it going..
What is I am not strong enough to resist.

Saying goodbye is hard..empowering..scary..confirming..
It can be final..temporary..subjective..
It is goodbye...
Sometimes it's just hard to find the good in it...

Journal Confessions

2009-06-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

I write for a lot of reasons, but sometimes I do it just for fun, as a distraction rather than as therapy. I have kind of a wicked sense of humor, one that many people don't quite get, and you are about to see why. I found this in my journal from about a month ago. There really is nothing else I can say about it other than it must have been a really crazy day..

May 5, 2009

Dear Journal,

I have a confession to make.....

Oh, why is this so hard?
I need to just come out and say it, but I'm afraid.
I'm afraid you will never treat me the same way again.

OK.... I'm just gonna say it....

But first, let me say, it is going to sound so much worse than it is...

I know I am just stalling....

So...here goes....

I'm cheating on you.

Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that!
It's not like "cheating" cheating....it's just...

I've been seeing someone else.....
Yes, it's someone that you know.....

OK.... it's Twitter.

Please don't be mad.
I love you so much.
I mean, you have been there for me through some really hard times.
I will never forget that....It's just....

There has been this distance between us.
I pour my heart out to you and you never even say anything.
It's like you aren't even listening...
I need more....There are things that a girl just has to hear...
Twitter gives me something that you never could....

I don't know where we go from here..
But, I know I don't want us to end.
I'm not strong enough to make it without you...

The real truth is... I want you both.
I know that sounds selfish and it probably is....
It's just how I feel.
Don't you want me to be happy.....

Please say something...anything...

See...that is exactly my point...

Journal Entry June 3rd

2009-06-08T19:48:00.000-07:00

About a year ago I read The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne and it challenged every idea I had about Christianity. It caused me to think about following Jesus in a way that I never had before. It changed me....for about a week.

We just finished our Crazy Love class with Pastor Troy and it too has challenged me. I am fascinated with this concept of an all encompassing, overwhelming love for God that requires a life change. The class changed me....but that was last week.

I am struggling to get ahold of this. For me, writing is a way that I work through things. Here is a page from my journal...

June 3rd

I feel like I'm so close.
I think this is different.
I could be wrong.
Is it just like every time before?

I am so close to peeking over the edge.
So close to hurling myself into you.
On the verge of going farther than ever before.
What if I step out and change my mind.
Is it already too late to turn back?

I want it to be so much more than that thing.
More than a movement.
Much more than a cause.
Anything but a phase.

I don't want to fail me.
Terrified even more of failing you.
I'm in a place where I know I can't stay.
A place that I am petrified to leave.

Funny, this talk about a comfort zone.
Comfort. It is anything but comfortable.
Yet I am rooted in it.
Clinging to it.
Why is it so hard to leave misery?

I don't know what all this means.
I'm afraid I will just wait until this feeling passes.
I've done that, too many times.
But I will wait.
I don't have a choice.

Journal Entry May 27th

2009-06-03T05:35:00.000-07:00

Our Wednesday night Crazy Love class has been awesome. I really don't want it to end. Last week Pastor Troy talked about being raw. What would it look like if we were really raw with God, uncensored and real. This is what I wrote that night. This is tough for me because it goes against the image that I have worked so hard to create....but this is raw..

May 27th

Sometimes I look in the mirror and the life that you have given me is so foreign from what I had planned that I am sure it is a mistake.

Unrecognizable.

You knew my dreams. You knew how much I had planned for this. You let me plan and dream for 5 years. You let me dream and then ignored them.

I envy those with normal. I long for one day of normal. I hate normal because of how abnormal that is for him.

I have tried to listen, tried to hear you through all of this. I can't. My life is so loud that I can't hear you. I have held my hands so tightly over my ears, closed my eyes and waited....I didn't hear you.

There are days when this thing between us feels so one sided. I show up every morning, I don't have a choice. I am there, but I'm not sure you are. I'm here, but here alone.

I want to hear you, to see you. I want it so much, but you are gonna have to scream.

Not Epic...Essential

2009-05-26T18:47:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about how I got to the point where I am right now, in both the good and bad ways......

Specifically, I have been trying to figure out at what point I fooled myself into thinking that being stuck was just being grounded.

Today I made just a tiny step towards getting unstuck, out of the funnel that I have been comfortably miserable in. It wasn't huge, not life altering, but it was a step. One that probably went unnoticed by the world around me, but for the first time in a very long time, it wasn't about or even for them.

Not epic to the world but essential for mine...

Just Some Random Thoughts

2009-05-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

All kinds of random thoughts, things that don't really fit anywhere else...

First off, what is up with all the one word titles for my recent blogs. I just scrolled through them and laughed out loud. Like I am too important or too big of a deal to come up with more than one word. That is funny. I promise, I'm done with that nonsense.

I would really like to be a back up singer. I used to think that I wanted to be a rock star, but now I think what I really want is to be in the back, wearing one of those super cute not-matching-yet-coordinating outfits and doing the side to side shimmy thing. Yeah, that sounds pretty awesome.

I want to go back to school. I only have 5 classes left to finish my degree in Child Development and Family Studies with a minor in Fine Arts. I love being in school. There is just something about the whole college vibe that I miss so much.

I think I am going to get another tattoo. I am having a hard time deciding where, but I know exactly what I want. $250 Tuesday at Sacred Apple is a bargain.

I am a bit embarrassed about how excited I am for the new Harry Potter movie to come out. Like it might be on the top ten most exciting events in my life. Kicker is, it opens during VBS, which I am directing. Something is gonna have to give.

I really would love to spend the weekend hanging out with Rob Dyrdek, Jason Mraz, John Mayer and Dave Matthews. No agenda, just hangin' out. Maybe some bbq, a little impromptu acoustic sing along if they felt so inclined, just chillin'. Oh yeah, and my other BFF can come too, just to keep me grounded.

I feel like I might have finally had that moment where I realize that I am middle age, old even. I really like cars. I know exactly what I like and what I don't like. For a while now I have wanted either a Dodge Charger or a Lincoln MKZ. In the past when I have seen one I have always lusted just a bit for it. We have looked into both of them and I know the cost and payment for each, and it is a lot. The other day I was stopped next to a GORGEOUS black MKZ and the first thought that went through my mind was.... "I'm so glad I don't have that payment." I am officially old.

I find myself saying all of those things that I swore growing up I would never say. I am from pretty humble roots, to say the least. The words redneck and hillbilly would be very appropriate. I, however, used to be obsessed about not living up to that legacy. Seems that I the apple might not have fallen so far from the tree. I find myself all the time saying things like "fixin' to, oughten not and y'all." The other day I even told Luke we were "leavin' to go to town", we live in town.

I feel guilty about the fact that I am neither a pet person or a baby person. Doesn't that sound evil? I mean I don't hate em', babies at least, I just don't really like to hang out with them for any extended period of time.

Given the choice between television/movies or music, I would with out a doubt pick music. I could go for the rest of my life and never watch another TV show or movie, as long as I had music. I really could not imagine my life without it.

I feel strangely relieved about airing out some of my random even peculiar thoughts. There are others, but for now, that will do. Ahhhhhhhh, I really do feel better!

But then...

2009-05-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

I can't even count the number of times my kids have gone to bed dirty or with out brushing their teeth. There have been days when they have eaten candy for breakfast and I have often bought them things just to keep them from throwing a fit. I have regretted saying no way to often and regretted even more not saying no. I have often ran out of patience way to early in the day.

There are days when I know that I have failed them, but then....

There are the days when it all seems right. Moments when I truly know that loving them is enough.

Today was one of those days.

Isaak came home from school upset about the death of a mother and two children that attend church at Faith, where he goes to school. We talked about it for a while and then he said, "at least it is good for them, cause they are in heaven now, and there are no fires in heaven." We talked a bit more, then he asked me if he could ask Jesus to live in his heart. We knelt right there in the garage, and he bowed his little head and said the sweetest prayer I have ever heard.

I am so thankful for days like this, one that I will never forget.

Here

2009-05-11T06:00:00.000-07:00

"....right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be...and I could not ask for more."

It has taken me a long time to actually believe this, longer than I even want to admit to myself. I have spent so much time and energy trying to get back to the place where I thought I should be, only to realize that it was a place that I had created in my mind.

I am ashamed of what that journey has looked like. In every situation that I sought happiness and failed, there was one common denominator. Me. There is no friendship, no relationship, no drink, nothing that could change the fact that what I was unhappy with the most was me.

It hasn't been easy and wouldn't expect it to be, but I am changing. The hardest part in changing is mental for me. I can act the part, I can put on the show that people want, but actually feeling it has been hard.

I am good at pretending and even better at manipulating situations and relationships. I am trying to stop that, but it is something that I have always done, and I know that it will take time.

More than anything, I am thankful. I have spent so many years trying to keep God at a safe distance. Ready to call on him in times of need, but far enough away to feel like he wasn't watching. Praying for people and expecting that he would answer, but believing that it was a kind of grace and love that was reserved for others but certainly not for me. Accepting that kind of gift is hard for me.

It is a process for me, something that I want desperately. I also know that it is something that I could never do on my own. Stumbling scares me, the fear of reverting to what is comfortable is numbing.

More than fear, I feel hope. I feel reassurance and confirmation that this really is right where I am supposed to be. In this moment, I am not supposed to be anywhere but here.

That is awesome.

I

...hope..

2009-05-05T10:52:00.000-07:00

...I found this poem a few years ago and I always go back to it as a reminder of the blessings that I have...

WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

quiet

2009-04-25T04:48:00.001-07:00

....for the last few weeks I have been really looking forward to this weekend. I am sitting alone in a hotel room right now, getting ready for an auction. I am excited about the treasures that await me today, but I was even more excited about getting a break from the craziness that is my life...

...what I craved the most was quiet....silence. What I didn't count on was that when surrounded by silence, I would no longer be able to ignore my own thoughts. It's an uncomfortable place, but one that I need to be in. I have heard more and said more in the last 12 hours of silince, than I have in years...

...the conclusions that I have come to are scary, they require an action, something to change. More than the fear of what I need to do is the cripling thought that I will do nothing. The idea that I will wake up next month, next year and still be the same is terrifying.

...I am really good at excuses, at reasons why I can't do the right thing, be the person that I know should be. I have lists of them, but in the quiet of the night I realize that they are just that, excuses.

...I don't know where I go from here, but I am open...

truth

2009-04-20T13:44:00.000-07:00

I got a call this morning from someone wanting to know if I would be interested in writing some articles for a publication that focuses on parenting children with special needs. As with most everything in life, this publication has a very clear defined platform, all though they might not advertise it as such. In the course of talking with her I could tell very quickly that they wanted an article that would be nice. I was not in the mood to be nice.

Nice... Flowery.... Tell about how wonderful it is to be blessed with a child that is so specially gifted. Rave about the joys of the experience, about how it has made our family stronger, how we would not trade this opportunity for the world. She used words like hope and positive. Several times she used the word truth.

The truth is that it sucks. There is nothing great or heart warming about it. There is no way to sugar coat it, to make it a positive. Truthfully, it is just not good.

I hate the term special needs. There is nothing special about it. Different, but not special. Unique, but not special.

It has not made me a stronger person nor has it strengthened our family or our marriage. If anythind it has done the opposite.

The statistic is something like 80% of all marriages that involve an autistic child fail. The stress of dealing with the day to day makes the idea of sharing 50/50 custody seem like a break, sometimes the only option in order to be able to breathe. I know how bad it sounds, but that is the truth.

Hope is something that rarely is factor in my daily routine. There are glimmers of hope that are found in new medicines or therapy, but they are always short lived. Don't get me wrong, we have good days. We have some really good days, the problem is that the good days make the bad days even harder. The reality is that it is not going to get better. He is not going to wake up one day and be free of this. That doesn't offer much hope.

I love him with everything that I am, but that doesn't make it any better. There is nothing that I can do or say that can take away that struggle that he feels. There are times when he asks me to make it stop, to help him be able to stop all of the feelings. I cant do that for him, that is the reality.

She wanted the truth, but as with most people, I don't think they can handle the truth.

Fabulous

2009-04-16T14:20:00.000-07:00

So today was a great day, fabulous even. I haven't had a day like this in a while and it was far too long overdue.

It really started last night with Girls Night Out with my two best girlfriends. There is just something about being with people who really get me that makes for so much fun. With these girls I don't have to come up with lengthy explanations and far stretched analogies to get my feelings across, they just know. I love them so much and spending a few hours with them last night was exactly what I needed. We are also planning our annual fall trip and staying in a cabin in Gatlinburg, TN that is to die for. It is called Very Beary and has four master bedrooms, a dream kitchen, game room, theatre room, hot tub and breath taking views. Sure to be an amazing weekend!!

I was already in a great mood when I woke up and things just got better from there. I began the day sitting in a massage chair with my feet soaking in hot water while I texted, facebooked and checked email. A pedicure and an iPhone, if there is such a thing as complete bliss, that just might be it. It totally took my mind off the fact that the women in the nail salon only speak Korean and I am always convinced that they are talking about me while I am sitting there. My pedicure was followed by a manicure and getting my eyebrows done, which while painful, I kinda love.

I bought some new capri's and a few shirts to go with my cute toes and even had time to go to Macy's to get makeup and perfume. I did all of this, including a car wash in 2 hours and 15 minutes. Sometimes I even impress myself.

When I got home I could not resist being outside because the weather is sooo beautiful. I was able to clean my car out including the carpet and upholstery. I love a clean car, it makes me feel responsible and happy!!

To round out the afternoon I mowed the front yard and even had time to do my Shred workout. Ahhhhhhhhh...I love my life.

Reality will set in tomorrow when I realize that I will be up for about 40 hours straight with Crazy Night and Spring Fest, but for today all is good!!

Words

2009-03-31T05:24:00.000-07:00

So, I am kind of a closet nerd. I have a strong affinity for words, one that could be considered borderline obsessive. I am always amazed at the power of words, that a simple combination of letters can have so much impact. My absolute favorite word is nevertheless. I just love it!

I follow lots of "word for the day" lists and today two of my words were diaphanous and contretemps. My goal for the day is to use those words in casual conversation, which could be a stretch considering who I will be talking to.

Here is my favorite quote for the day...

We are all of us more or less echoes, repeating involuntarily the virtues, the defects, the movements, and the characters of those among whom we live. -Joseph Joubert, essayist (1754-1824

What is your favorite word?

100

2009-03-23T05:49:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been feeling overwhelmed with stuff.

Piles, boxes, bags, all full of things. Clothes, decorations, papers, pictures, more clothes, just lots and lots of stuff. It is everywhere. The attic is full, both sheds are full, the loft in the shed is full, closets are spilling over, all with stuff.

This week I am on a mission to get rid of it. I feel like it is suffocating me at times and I am so over that. Im tired of looking at it, thinking about it, feeling guilty about how much there is, I am ready to let it go.

Today my goal is to get rid of 100 things.

100 things that I don't love, don't need, maybe don't even remember that I have.

The stack of boxes to begin going through looks overwhelming, but I am reminded that there are people right now that are literally living out of the same boxes that house my stuff.

Kinda puts it all in perspective.

Positive

2009-03-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

I realize that I have been a huge "Debbie Downer" lately and I am really trying to cheer up and see the glass as half full. In light of my recent epiphany, I have chosen to share only positives today. Here we go....

I got my hair cut on Sunday and was SuPeR excited about my new summer do! On my way to Indianapois on Monday morning I looked in the mirror to discover one chunk of hair hanging down that she had missed. I spent the rest of the morning at Riley with my head tilted to one side hoping it would distract anyone from the large section of hair that was hanging about one inch longer than the rest. On the positive side, at least it wasn't an inch shorter than the rest.

For the past several mornings I have heard a strange sound comming from outside near the laundry room. Turns out we have company. A lovely famiy of birds have taken up residency on our dryer vent. Plus side, until Brett takes care of it I don't have to do laundry.

I have worn the same Clinique makeup for the past 8 years. I have a winter shade and a summer shade and I always get the same thing. I went to get it on Sunday and turns out they no longer carry it. I saved $26.50.

I have not been sleeping well the last several nights. I keep waking up really early from strange dreams and then not being able to go back to sleep. Bright side is I can tell you exactly how many revolutions per minute the ceiling fan makes.

We are off to such a great start, I can't wait to see what the rest of the week brings!!!

Ifs

2009-03-14T19:26:00.000-07:00

Ifs.

What if I ......?

Lately this question has been playing over and over again in my head. From the most open areas of my life to the most personal, what if.......

what if I.....what if he.....what if we.....what if I would have......what if I didn't.........what if it was 10 years ago.......what if...........?

Just when I think that I might be getting it all together, this happens. It always does. I begin to question everything. The question of "what if" becomes something that I obsess over, feeling like I have to know the answer in order to move on.

How do I figure out the answer to a question that doesn't always have one?

I keep waiting to grow up, to move beyond this searching stage, to find contentment. It hasn't happened yet. I hope it does.

I guess there is a good reason why this is one of my favorite sayings:

"If ifs were fifths, we'd all be drunk!"

Firsts

2009-03-11T13:43:00.000-07:00

Firsts. At least first in a whiles. The last week has been full of them. Some good, some bad.

The first time I ate Uno's Pizza. Giordano's used to be my favorite, not any more.

The first time in a very long time that I cried in front of anyone other than Brett. I hate that.

The first time I tanned in a while. I know it is not the healthiest way to relieve stress, but there is just something about it that is so relaxing.

The first time I have ever seen a helicopter on the interstate. I kind of felt like I was in a big Hollywood movie, that was until I realized it was being pulled on a trailer. Weird.

The first time I have seen Isaak play. Sure, he has played before, but I mean really sit down and engage in creative play. He is seven.

The first time I had turkey bacon. Not bad. Not the same, but not bad.

The first time in a while that I was in a situation with a certain person and I did what was right even though it was not what I wanted to do.

The first time in three years that I really feel like it is going to be OK. It will be different than I planned, but it will be OK.

There were others this week, some very personal. Of those, there are ones that I will cherish forever and a few that I wish had not happened at all. Firsts can be exciting. They can also be painful.

Numb

2009-03-04T13:42:00.000-08:00

It has been a very long day, one that creeps by in the middle of a even longer week.

Isaak is having a really hard time and is now on the verge of being permanently expelled from school. He has started to hurt himself and others. He barely sleeps, and when he does he goes through manic episodes, half awake and half asleep. He has threatened his classmates and teacher. He has stopped telling the truth.

The only word that I have to explain how I feel is numb. That's all that I have left.

I have done mad. I have done mad really well. I have been mad at everyone that I can think of, including God. I don't have the energy to do mad anymore.

I have lived sad. I have wallowed in sad. I am done with sad.

I have played the victim. Over and over again I have made this all about me.

I have taken comfort in guilt. I have used guilt as a way to make sense of what is going on. I done with that.

I have faked happy. I have faked happy a lot. I have pretended to be OK for so long, hoping that I could fake it until I feel it. I am not happy.

I am numb. I am out of anger and sadness and guilt and tired of pretending.
Numb is all I have left.

Questions

2009-03-02T13:33:00.000-08:00

Why me, why us, why him?
Why this, out of everything that could have happened, why this?
When does is stop hurting?
When do I stop dreaming about what could have been and accept this as reality?
How long before I stop blaming myself, analyzing every decision I made while pregnant and before?
Why do I need to know the how and the when?
When do I stop making it about me?
When do I stop worrying about what other people think?
When do I stop relating Autism with being a bad parent?
What if it never gets any better than today?
What if it gets worse?
How could God possibly think that I could handle this?
Why?

It seems that I have so many more questions than answers these days.

Real

2009-02-25T10:59:00.000-08:00

I just can't get something out of me head. Someone close to me recently asked me if I was "real".

Are the things that I do and the way that I act who I really am?
Or, am I just pretending? Just playing a role?

The honest answer is that I don't know.

I used to think I was.

I think I want to be.

I get so close to letting go of all the things that I desperatly cling to that keep me from being "real", yet let the fear of being transparent keep me from going all the way.

Why is it so hard?

Goldmine Update

2009-02-08T16:30:00.000-08:00

Just an update on my most recent auction find/ebay sale. My two plates sold for $177.50 and $189.50. I still have four more to list. Keep your fingers crossed!!

Oops, I Did It Again....

2009-02-03T17:06:00.000-08:00

I spent all of last Friday with the finest people that Lebanon, IN has to offer and came home with a truck FULL of stuff from the auction. Ashley, my youngest sister, and I spent ALOT of money and I was feeling just a bit disappointed at the value of some of the items that I bought, thinking that I might not be able to come out ahead on this trip.

I was wrong!! I bought a whole lot of misc. items for $12.00. There was a bunch of stuff in this lot, enough to cover an 8 ft table and what I really wanted from the group was a set of sterling silver vases to use on my mantle. I knew that one of the clocks in the lot was Swiss and would bring a nice profit, but other than that the rest would probably be junk.

I was wrong!! Turns out that there were six ugly little green and white plates that were original to the West Baden Hotel from the early 1900's. We have only listed two of them so far and with 5 days to go on the auction, they are both up to $100 a piece. Oh yeah, and the clock will probably sell for about $75. Yeah!!

I love being wrong!

Check it out!

All I Want For Christmas Is My "OLD" Two Front Teeth

2008-12-22T18:25:00.000-08:00

All of us know people that just seem to always have it together. The kind of people that have all the luck. The people that happen to walk into a store only to find out they are the 1,000,000th customer and win a huge shopping spree. The people that get a letter in the mail one day that tells them their great, great uncle just died and left them a fortune. The kind of people that have it so good it almost seems unnatural.

We are not those kind of people.

If there is anything crazy, unusual or just plain weird that is going to happen, it is probably going to happen to us.

If something that is outrageously expensive is going to happen, again it is probably going to affect us.

At approximately 10:00 am this morning I got a phone call from the Faith Community Center where Isaak was at his first day of Winter Camp. He was there for all of 90 minutes before he fell in the locker room on the wet shower floor before going swimming only to break his two front permanent teeth almost in half. We had to rush him to the dentist and thankfully there was no damage to the roots or blood supply but he did have to get temporary resin caps to even out his teeth. He will have to have them replaced several times before he can get permanent ones, probably by the age of 11 or 12.

How much might one of these TEMPORARY caps cost, you might be asking yourself. Only $214. Oh yeah, that is for one tooth. We had to have two, and x-rays, and an exam......

Seeing how we have already met our out of pocket maximum for the year on our health insurance which is $10,000, it only seems fitting that it was a dental accident and of course have no dental insurance.

New Nazarene Abstinence Program

2008-12-11T16:39:00.000-08:00

I wrote a curriculum a few years ago for an abstinence plus program. Part of the project was to come up with practical suggestions for teens to deter them from having sex. Had this product been available then, it would have for sure been at the top of the list. Maybe this snuggie could be a requirement for all lock-ins and crazy nights.

Snuggie Commercial

The link takes a few seconds, but then you have to watch the video of the commercial. My favorite part is when the family is outside at a sporting event. Priceless!!

I Was Wrong

2008-12-06T18:22:00.000-08:00

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I was wrong. Let me explain...

Friday night Dave and Gloria Powell and Brett and I went to Peru for the Colosseum Combat to watch Shawn Tague fight. He does cage fighting and I had already made up my mind that it was going to be terrible. I was expecting it to be in some backwoods barn where you had to know the secret knock just to get in the door. I anticipated the lowest of low lives and that it would be a night filled with horror. I was wrong.

I had decided long before the fight that this sport is wrong in every way. I made it out to be something that is no more than a glorified street brawl where angry and possibly psychotic men go to either beat someone up or be beaten up. I again was wrong.

I speculated that the only kind of people that could possibly enjoy watching this kind of violence probably fit into one or more of these categories; redneck, ex-con or mentally ill. For the third time, I was wrong.

I was prepared for the worst and instead it was not that bad, in fact, I actually enjoyed it. It was nothing like I expected it to be and I am so glad that I was a "big girl" about it and just went.

Shawn's fight was by far the highlight of the whole night. The first several fights were over in a matter of seconds, but Shawn's lasted almost 5 minutes. He ended up tapping out because the other guy had him in an arm bar, but he really was amazing. It was so great to see Shawn in his element. He had a peace about him that I have missed seeing and am grateful for. And little miss Cheri...she was right there at ring side cheering him on. I don't know how she did it. I would have climbed over the top after the first hit. She was so proud of him. It was a good night!!

I guess the lesson here is that things are not always what they seem and that sometimes you just have to step out of your comfort zone and give it a try. You might actually like it.

Hmmm.....I wonder if they have a women's cage fighting league?

On Your Mark, Get Set......

2008-11-27T17:04:00.001-08:00

Go!!!!!

Black Friday is almost here!!! Some people train months for marathons and Super Bowls, I train for the biggest shopping day of the year. Since I am an expert in this field I thought I would offer a few tips for the amateurs out there. Now pay attention as these could very well save your life if caught in a mob of early morning shoppers.

1. Go early or stay home. They don't call them door buster deals for nothing. If you are not there when they open at 4a.m., then just don't bother.

2. Be prepared. If you go in there not sure where you are going or what you are looking for you are going to be devoured. Professionals such as myself get the Black Friday ads online a week in advance and have our list prepared. I like to go to the stores on Wednesday night to see where everything on my list is. The retailers can be just a bit tricky with where they locate high demand items. It might seem extreme to some, but this extra step could make the difference between you getting that top selling item to give as a gift or giving a fruit cake. Once you make your plan stick to it. They will try to woo you and confuse you by sparkly things and big sale signs, but don't fall for it. Get in, get the deals, get out and move on to the next store.

3. Dress for success. This is no time to look cute or hip. Tennis shoes are a necessity as well as dressing in layers that are easy to remove, but not too bulky to carry. Oh yeah, and leave your coat in the car. As cold as it might be to stand in line outside Kohl's at 3:45 a.m., you will be glad you are not wearing it or trying to carry it while you are standing in line for an hour waiting to pay.

4. Refuel often. This is no day for diets or eating healthy. A serious work out like this needs serious stamina. Just as marathon runners carb load before a race, I like to Diet Pepsi load early, then follow that by a Cinnabon a few hours in. The right combination of food and drink can make or break the day. You need to stay hydrated, but the last thing you want is to discover you need to potty really bad when you are 10 minutes from the front of the line and 45 minutes from the back of the line.

5. Know your limits. Don't be embarrassed if by 5 pm you are exhausted and sleep deprived. You can not expect to be a pro over night. If you must call it an early night, congratulate yourself on your accomplishment and remember that there is always Saturday door busters and Cyber Monday.

6. Finally, remember to be nice. Make friends with the people in line around you. You are going to be spending the next 30-90 minutes with them, why not chat a bit. It might just so happen that you forgot something on your list and they will hold your place in line while you run and get it. Be polite and gracious to the store employees. When you ask them if they have more Tickle Me Elmo's in the back, they might actually look if you ask them nicely. Remember it is not the cashiers fault that you stood in line for 90 minutes or that your item did not ring up the right price. They just scan it and push the buttons. Give them a break and a smile. If you are going to complain about the line or the enormous number of people, go home.

Stay strong, stay focused and you will be alright....hopefully.

Grateful

2008-11-26T20:28:00.000-08:00

I was running just a few minutes late to pick Isaak up from school the other day when I took a "short" cut through a neighborhood only to get stopped behind a school bus. As I waited and waited I could not imagine what was taking so long for this kid to get off the bus. Seconds turned to what seemed like hours before I got the first glimpse of the boy. He had crutches that fit around his arms and as he would move one crutch up the driveway, his leg would drag behind. Each step was labored and deliberate. As I watched him struggle I could almost feel the pain of each movement. All of the sudden, my problems did not seem so big.

I have spent the last few weeks so immersed in feeling sorry for myself that I have lost sight on just how blessed I am. This situation with Isaak is bad, but it is not the end of the world. I am so grateful for a God that lets me pout and waits patiently for me to come back to him. I am also so thankful for my family. I love them so much and when I consider that the love that I have for them can not even compare to the love that God has for them I feel such comfort. I know that we are living in the midst of his plan for us and that his ways and thoughts are so much higher than mine.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and thank you for your comments and prayers. I pray that as you celebrate Thanksgiving you will be near those you love and that you will be reminded of just how much God loves you. Grace and peace be with you all!!

Heartbroken

2008-11-20T17:44:00.000-08:00

These past few months have been very hard on our family. Isaak turned 7 in October, and with his birthday came a heartbreaking realization that he is not going to "outgrow" his autism. Isaak's official diagnosis is "autism with co morbid bipolar disorder". That is a lot of terminology to use for a seven year old.

This isn't just a phase or a stage. It is his life, therefore it is our life. This thing, this autism, it is incurable. We can never love him enough or spoil him enough or wish it away enough for it to leave. We have prayed and prayed and begged and pleaded with God, but it is still here.

The one thing that I hate more than anything in this world lives in one that I love the most. I am having a very hard time dealing with that.

I see all of these other families around me and I am so jealous of the life that they live now and the future that they will have. Autism didn't just take something away from Isaak, but it stole something from me. It took away that chance for me to be the mom that I had always dreamed of. As much as I tell myself that I am mad at the situation, I would be lying if I didn't admit that I am mad at God. I am mad the He let this happen, that He would let a 7 year old be so conflicted in his mind. I know intellectually that God did not "do" this to him or us, but it is hard to tell that to my emotions.

It took me 5 years to get pregnant with Isaak and when I found out I was finally pregnant it was truly a dream come true, but why did it have to end there. I know that so many people would read this and think that it is terrible to have these feelings, that I should just be thankful that God gave us a child at all. I can understand that viewpoint, but you have not lived this life. It is hard for a mom that isn't in my shoes to know what it is like to have your child look at you and yet you know it is not them that is looking back. When Isaak is cycling it isn't him that is there. Isaak is sweet, caring, loving, nurturing and a good friend. This other boy is mean, hateful, destructive, aggressive, deceitful and angry. We live half of our lives with this stranger and the other half waiting in fear of his return.

I know that I am rambling, but it has been a very long and hard day. I got called to school today because Isaak got in trouble for lying to his teacher ( again) and because he had been in trouble before, today he had to get a spanking from the principle. I have never felt so terrible. I had to sit in the office while I heard him screaming and crying, knowing what was going to happen. After his spanking they called me in and he just looked confused. It is a look that I will never, for the rest of my life, ever forget. I know, in my head that it was the right thing to do, but my heart is broken.

I keep coming back to the word of this song......

I waited for you today, but you didn't show..
I needed you today, so where did you go...
You told me to call, you said you'd be there...
I cried out with no reply and I can't feel you by my side
So I'll hold tight to what I know, you're here and I'm never alone

Politics......

2008-10-30T09:31:00.000-07:00

Just like everyone else, I can not wait for the election to be over. I still am unsure of who I am voting for and probably won't be sure even after I vote. The thing that has been so interesting to me about this election process is how much Isaak understands, or at least hears about, the whole thing even at the age of 7.

The other day on the way home from Parent Teacher Conferences we were telling him that we saw one of his classmate's parents there. Brett said something about the Dad being different and we were laughing. Then Isaak laughed and said "Yeah, I think he is a democrat or something" He of course has no clue what that means, but has picked up on the fact that there are different political parties and that for most people one is the right way and one is wrong. It is amazing what they pick up....

Blog Loser :(

2008-10-12T17:55:00.000-07:00

I feel like such a looser that I have not posted anything in so long. I have soooooooo much on my mind right now, but not enough time tonight to make it coherent enough for anyone else to understand. So for the time being I will pose this thought provoking, and possibly life altering question. This one happens to be my favorite from the random questions that come up on the profile screen.

If you could rename the ring toe, you know the one next to the pinkie toe, what would you name it?

Update on Dave

2008-09-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

I talked to Gloria on Saturday and Dave is home from the hospital. His surgery went well but he will have to be given antibiotics through a PIC line for 2 more weeks. They go to the infectious disease Dr. on Monday to find out just what it was that caused the crazy infection. Continue to keep the Powell's in your prayers.

As a funny side note, Isaak has been really excited to go and buy his invitations for his birthday party. On the way to church this morning he asked if he and I could " skip the funeral part and leave after sunday school." What he meant was the sermon. I hope Pastor Troy wouldn't be offended :)

Pray for Dave Powell

2008-09-18T10:01:00.001-07:00

Hey everyone!! I just got off the phone with Dave Powell and he is going in for surgery as I type. I guess he has an infection in his hip joint that they just found today using an MRI and by taking a sample of fluid. I don't know much more than that, Gloria was literally dropping him off at the front door of the hospital when he called. He is at Home Hospital and will be staying at least one night. Please keep him in your prayers!!

Strange

2008-09-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

Today has been very strange. Could it be that everyday is this weird and I am just taking extra note of it today? Maybe, but nevertheless something is going on.

My day began with reading this bumper sticker on the way to take Isaak to school:

"A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle"

While at Goodwill this morning (my favorite place to go) a woman in front of me in line bought a purple sweatshirt. Just as she was finished paying and the cashier named "Joye" (that had about as much Joy as roadkill) handed her the receipt, she sat her purse down on the floor and told Joye she was going to try it on. After she already bought the sweatshirt, she tries it on and decides that it is too small. Hello!!!!! Are we missing something here. Generally you try things on either before you purchase them or in the privacy of your own home once you get there. So the lady decides to return the sweatshirt, for which Joye is not exactly thrilled about and has to call her manager, who must have been on sabbatical because it took him forever to get there. Crazy!!!!

When I went to pick Luke up a preschool today at Brady Lane Church of Christ I ran into the bathroom really quick. On my way out there is a huge sign on the back of the door that says "No Smoking". Really, do you think? You mean you are not supposed to smoke in the bathroom at church. The worst part is that it was printed off the computer and laminated by hand, meaning at some point in time smoking in the women's restroom at church must have been enough of a problem to warrant the creation of such a sign.

Crazy!!!

Viewer Discretion Advised

2008-09-03T07:38:00.000-07:00

I have this kind of " rule" I guess you would call it that I don't watch anything on TV that I could not watch with my kids, even after they go to bed at 8:00 pm. This "rule" of mine pretty much eliminates 99.7% of whats on. Last night while flipping through the channels, I must confess I broke my own rule.( And no, it was not the new Levi 501 Buttonfly ad. )

I have posted the link, I think, to get to the clip from the show, the Colbert Report on Comedy Central. It is called Better Know a Lobbyist : Atheist and is an interview with a leader from the Secular Coalition. I will warn you now, it has very raw humor that some might find offensive, but I find the point behind it to be very well made.

http://www.comedycentral.com/colbertreport/videos.jhtml?videoId=180127

One Man's Trash......

2008-08-27T06:13:00.000-07:00

I recently bought a small piece of pottery(5in. x 3in.)at a garage sale for $.50. I just sold it a few minutes ago on Ebay for $163.55. Who says I don't have a job?

A New Found Sense of Security

2008-08-26T11:24:00.000-07:00

I saw a bumper sticker today that said,

Fat People Are Harder to Kidnap

I have never felt safer :)

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbors......

2008-08-24T16:45:00.000-07:00

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbors.... recycling award?

As I was pulling into our court last Friday morning I saw a sign in our neighbor's yard that says " A Recycling Champion Lives Here". Well, if he got one then I was sure there would be one in our yard, probably even a bigger one with flashing lights, solar powered of course.

As you can probably guess, no sign. Nothing but 4, yes I said 4, empty blue recycling bins. We recycle everything! Not one thing is allowed to be put in the trash can that does not get checked for it's recycleablity ( is that a word?). We take our responsibility to our planet very seriously and are proud to be "green". However this time we are green with envy.

I am still holding out hope that they are saving the really big signs for Monday, when the Mayor himself can deliver them along with a ticker tape parade of biodegradable paper, but we will see. I am trying to be a big girl about this, but there is that ever so slight desire to put the empty toilet paper roll in the regular trash just for spite.

Wedding Photo Scandal

2008-08-22T04:41:00.000-07:00

When I find out which one of our relatives released this copy of our wedding photo to the media, there are going to be some serious consequences and repercussions.

Shut Up So I Can Hear What You Are Saying

2008-08-21T17:32:00.001-07:00

"God created man, Sam Colt made him equal"

That is what I was staring at as I waited in line to drop Isaak off at school today. The truck in front of me in line had this bumper sticker as well as some other NRA stickers and I have been thinking about it all day.
Faith Christian School is such an amazing place. There is such a feeling of warmth and genuine interest in our children there. Every morning, rain or shine, the teachers take turns lining up along the drop off lane and they wave the American Flag as the cars drive by. It is almost like a parade that welcomes the kids to school each day. Today, however, I was just struck by this dichotomy between that guys bumper sticker and the values of the school that he willingly pays a lot of money for his son to attend. I am not at all debating the gun issue, that is not my point. What I am wondering is how much what we do, what we say and what other people see when they look at our lives causes people to get a mixed message.

"Shut up so I can hear what you are saying" was something that a teacher I had in high school would say. He was referring to the fact that our actions really do speak louder than words. We all have heard that a thousand times and most of us would agree with that. But what about what we don't necessarily do, but how other people see us in general. I know that people are always going to have an opinion of us and to some extent we can not control what other people think about us, but where does our responsibility lie in sending these mixed messages.

Let me give you another example. A few years ago I was sitting outside on campus waiting for a class to begin when I saw an older woman driving a van that had several Pro Life bumper stickers on the back of it. There must have been at least 8 or 10 different anti-abortion stickers plastered all over the van which is why it caught my attention in the first place. What caused me to remember it three years later is that the woman had two younger kids in the middle row of seats and she was smoking, with the windows rolled up. I am sure that she felt like putting the stickers on the back of her van was sending a message to people that she believes we should protect the life and health of all children, but what I saw was someone who did not even care about the two children sitting directly behind her breathing the second hand smoke.

I have been pondering these two situations all day and trying to figure out just what God is trying to teach me here. I know that He has put these images in my mind and on my heart for a reason, I am just waiting to realize exactly what that is.

........ to be continued.

186 Minutes

2008-08-19T08:06:00.000-07:00

186 minutes doesn't seem that long, it is only a bit over three hours, but today it might as well be a lifetime. 186 minutes ago I said goodbye to Isaak at school for his first day of 1st grade. His first day of all day school, my first day to be without him all day. In the weeks leading up to today, I have been excited about him starting school. I have been looking forward to the break, longing for it at times. Today I am not at all excited, but instead sad and worried and just a little bit lonely.

I was sure he would want me to walk him in to school today, but not the case. He really wanted me to just drop him off and drive away. Leave him all there by himself to find his way to his class? What if he got lost? Went into the wrong class? Spent the whole day in 6th grade before somebody noticed he was in the wrong place.

What if he is scared? What if he is not making new friends? What if he had to play alone at recess? Can he get his shirt tucked in and belt fastened back all by himself? This is his first time eating lunch at school and he decided to take his lunch today. What if he is still hungry? What if he spills something all over him? Can you get salmonella poisoning from peanut butter and jelly?

All of these worries numb me and what I really want to do is jump in the car, drive to the school and steal just a glimpse of him. Just to check on him, make sure he is alright.

But I won't.

Instead I will spend the day offering little prayers of protection and safety for him and sanity for myself. I know he will be OK and I will be to, in about 225 minutes when it is time to pick him up.

An Answer to Prayer

2008-08-19T05:24:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to update everyone on Luke. We went to the neurologist on Monday and he was really pleased with the results of all of his blood work and his latest MRI. He seemed extremely positive and his thought is that Luke is getting better from a neurological standpoint and is hope full that the spot on his brain was from a virus and not MS. He will still have another MRI in 6-12 months to see if there has been any change to his brain, but for now he believes that his problems might not be neurologically based. This news was a huge blessing, BUT..........

There always seems to be a "but". Our prayer now is what is wrong with him. He is in a lot of pain, particularly his fingers and legs. He will just roll around on the floor whimpering that his legs hurt. He is also very tired all of the time. He can spend hours just sitting in his room, seeming not even to have the energy to get up and play. Our next stop is to a pediatric rheumatologist at Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. The question now is does he suffer from arthritis or another autoimmune disease that causes joint pain and weakness. Our pediatrician has faxed them his chart, MRI reports and blood work and we are waiting on them to call us with an appointment time.

Please just continue to keep Luke in your prayers. It is so hard not being able to "fix" him. When someone that you love more than yourself is in pain, sitting back and waiting for answers is excruciating. I know that God is teaching me patience and to trust not only in Him, but in His perfect timing.

In Training for the 2012 Olympics

2008-08-17T17:42:00.000-07:00

It is official, somewhat. I am announcing my bid for the 2012 Women's Individual Badminton team. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Badminton. I can't wait for Brett to come home every night just so we can scarf down dinner and get on with our Badminton tournament. I am considering having our back yard filled in to make an official, Olympic size court. We also need to build a tall seat for the judge, who is usually Isaak, to sit on. When I found out that my passion is also an Olympic sport, I was elated. Sign me up! Put me in coach, I'm ready to play. They might have to consider a few alterations to the uniform, namely making it much larger and not in spandex, but we still have four years to work on that. Go USA!!!

Do You Know Someone Who Stinks?

2008-08-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

Let's be honest, we all do. Have you ever wondered if they know they smell. Can't they smell themselves? I once had the unenviable task of telling an employee that he smelled. I was getting complaints from his coworkers and even some customers about the body odor that seemed to seep from his pores and something had to be done. Henry*(name has been changed for confidentiality purposes) was a really sweet young guy that was a hard worker. He was just a bit strange, some might have even called him weird, but aren't we all. He was exceptionally smart, fluent in Japanese and Spanish and read constantly but did not have the common sense to come in out of the rain.

Anyway, the bottom line is he smelled really bad. It was a combination of infrequent bathing and too little laundering and probably some other things. I am not a medical doctor, but I am sure there were some other issues there. So I get to talk to him about his personal hygiene and it's affect on the workplace. This happened several years ago, but I can still remember feeling so nervous and embarrassed for him. I was angry that I had to tell him. Didn't anyone love this poor guy enough to tell him. He lived at home with his parents. What kind of Mom lets their kid walk around funky? Either she had a major olfactory deficit, or she just didn't love him enough to tell him. Or maybe she loved him too much to tell him. Maybe she didn't want to hurt his feelings or embarrass him. Did she figure someone else would tell him and she wouldn't have to, that way she didn't have to be the bad guy? Had she been waiting for years for someone to finally get the courage to tell him what she couldn't?

I don't know the answer. I don't know why she never sat down and had that conversation with him. I also don't know why I haven't had that conversation with the people in my life that wreak of sin. The guy that I love like a son that stinks of alcohol and whatever bar he passed out in last. Why can't I tell him that what he is doing is wrong, that it his hurting not only him but those around him? Don't I love my other friend enough to tell her that she wreaks of hatred and grief. To tell her that people can smell the hurt coming from her so strongly that they can't stand to even be near her. I don't want to be the bad guy. I keep hoping someone else will tell them so I don't have to.

After having a talk with the guy at work, I realized that the answer to the question of don't they know they smell is simply NO. They don't know they do, or at least they don't know that anyone else thinks they do.

They just need to be told, but who is going to tell them?

Luke's Prayer

2008-08-14T19:08:00.000-07:00

All of this time we have been praying for Luke, but it turns out Luke has his own prayer. Whenever we eat breakfast or lunch, either Isaak or myself prays. Isaak's prayer is always the same, "Thank you for our friends and thank you for our food." Short, sweet and to the point. If I pray I try to include the customary like, "...and please bless this food to our bodies." I usually then add something to the point of being with Daddy while he is at work, traveling or wherever he might be. So, the other day I asked who wanted to pray for our lunch and Luke volunteered for the first time. I was shocked, but thrilled and so he began. " Thank you for our friends, thank you for our food and please be with our Daddies bodies." He was close :)

Update on Luke

2008-07-25T19:07:00.000-07:00

Thanks so much for everyone that has been praying for us and for Luke. He had his EMG test done today at University Hospital in Indianapolis. It was quite painful for him and equally as heartbreaking for Brett and I to watch. They specialist was able to confirm 100% that there is no nerve damage in his legs. This is good news I guess, if you can call it that. The fact that his nerves are not damaged indicates that his issues with walking and his legs are coming from either his brain, his spine or both. This further points to a demyelenating disorder, like Multiple Sclerosis. We already know from his last MRI that he has the one spot on his brain, but at the time his spine looked clear. He has started to show some signs that he might be having vision problems as well has some numbness and pain in his cheek and face.

Because of the worsening of his symptoms he will be having another MRI on Wednesday, July 30th. He will also be having his vision checked in a few weeks by another specialist. With all that is going on around him and his weekly visits to one doctor or another, he never ceases to amaze us with how well he handles it all. He just stumbles around, drooling like a St Bernard with a huge smile on his face. God is amazing and we praise him for what He has done in Luke's life already, and what we know that He has planed for him. We are so blessed!!!

A blog, who me?

2008-07-25T18:28:00.001-07:00

OMG!!! I can't believe I have made it this far in setting up this blog without breaking the computer or crashing the ENTIRE world wide Internet. All who know me can attest that I am not exactly technically literate, but I must be doing something right. A blog, who me? I can't believe it myself! So am I officially a Blogger, is that even a politically correct term?

Anyway, here I am.

I must confess that it took me a few minutes, and more than a few attempts with spell check, to come up with a name for this blog. I was reading something recently that posed the question that we all have thought about. "How do you want people to remember you?" It was in a women's magazine and many of the readers responses centered around being remembered for their mothering and their love of their family. It really made me think about what I want to have accomplished. Of course I want people to remember me as someone who loved her family and her children, but more importantly I want to be significant.

The dictionary defines significant as:

1: having meaning, 2 a: having or likely to have influence or effect, 2 b: probably caused by something other than mere chance.

I want my life to have meaning and more importantly for everyone to know that how I lived was caused by something other than mere chance, but instead created in me by God.

That brings me to the word relevant. This was another concept that I really had been struggling to attain. This need to be of the world, to be like everyone else. Recently I have been realizing how much my striving for relevance has been interfering with my relationship with God. God hasn't called me to blend in. If I really want my life to have significance than I have to stand apart from that which I have been trying so hard to fit in to.

And so, this is my attempt to sort through the thoughts that bombard me and the experiences that amaze me as I am on a path to be significantly irrelevant.