Salvation

What assurance is there of salvation? I mean, when you actually sit down and think about it, do you really know where you will spend eternity? Or is it just a plethora of I hopes and I thinks? I don't like the idea of spending my days under a guise of maybes or maybe nots. I just don't think that's good enough.

When it comes to the notion of eternity, for most of us, it's something that we'd rather not think too much about. I think that most people are actually afraid of dying. It's too difficult to see beyond the idea of death to what might come after.

Speaking as someone who has been near death (and then prevented from it because of medical intervention) on multiple occasions (it's a long story...I might tell you about them some time...if you ask), death doesn't hurt. Really. I have lived so many moments in fear of dying. I can honestly tell you that your body goes into this euphoric state that is indescribable. You feel no pain, you feel no pleasure. It's almost like everything going on around you moves in slow motion. Your senses are heightened. Not the sense of pain, but rather your awareness. Your mind is sharp. Your ears plug into sounds that are far away that you might not have otherwise heard. You remember.

For me, the notion of dying in itself, is not so frightening. The more uncomfortable of ideas is where will I spend eternity? I find the notion of saying "I WILL be in heaven forever" to be cocky and ridiculous. I think it signifies a level of spiritual immaturity. When you actually see yourself, I mean, in your genuine and utter human-ness, then how can you ever genuinely believe you have obtained salvation? Faith is an abstract idea. Especially for Americans. We are not put in positions where our faith is tested to be genuine or false. We are not in positions where someone is torturing us, or taking from  us, or challenging us, to separate genuine faith from comfortable "faith."

Paul said that he didn't consider salvation as something that he had already obtained, but rather that he was running the race so as to win the prize. Not that salvation is something we "earn" but rather that the idea of saying, "Okay...I've done enough. I 'believe' enough. I 'love' Him enough. I've purchased the ticket." is not something that we should have.

Our faith, in America, is tested in such sneaky ways. It is tested in our things, our time, our resources. It is tested in our love of those who are difficult to love. It is tested in our hands. I hear people say all the time "we are the hands and feet of Jesus", yet the people they are constantly "helping" are other Christians. How is that being the "hands and feet"? Were we sent here to serve each other, or to serve the lost? If the only people you surround yourself with are people who profess to love Jesus, then who are you really serving? What purpose do you really have? Aren't we put here to reach the lost? To love the unlovable? To penetrate the darkness? To bring Peace to the chaotic?

I don't think that bringing a meal to a sick Christian equates doing "God's work". I just don't. I think that's helping your family, which is the standard of what we should ALWAYS be doing. I think the idea that I am a good Christian because I bring food to people who've had babies or are sick that go to my church is ridiculous and shameful. Would you not feed your sister or brother or parents if they were hungry!? Of course you would. The real test is when you give of yourself to help someone who has no help, someone who has no advocate, someone who is genuinely alone.

How often do we drive by the homeless people on the street and think to ourselves I gave him a candy bar, I did my part. Aren't I so good Jesus? We are always afraid to go beyond our comfort, to leave our idea of safety. We don't genuinely have the faith that God will take care of us. We are hypocrites. Of this I am the greatest offender.

So when people ask me if I believe I am going to heaven...my answer is not that easy to say. I am a horrible example of Christ's love. I am a terrible giver of His grace and mercy. I do not have enough faith to expend, to exhaust, to display that which is beyond myself. I do not have the faith to give beyond my means, to adore those who are "unlovable", to put myself at risk. I am the worst of Christ-like individuals. My passion is not nearly equal to that which I want it to be. I don't love enough. I don't give enough. I don't serve enough. Not to earn any sort of level of His grace, but rather to show the world that His grace has so developed and completed me. I am not complete in Him. I want to be. Oh how I want to be.

May I never make light of Christ's name. May I never defame or dishonor Him. May I never pretend to be that which I am not. May I never attempt to give myself esteem or value based on obedience. May my life be better than this.

"We" turn 7 today! :)

Seven years ago was a terrible day. Really. It was. I wasn't allowed to get ready in my own bathroom. I was cussed out by my sister. I was uncomfortable, awkward, and agitated. Our "day" was nothing like I had envisioned. It was not what I wanted.

To explain, everyone who knows me knows how extremely difficult it is for me to show my vulnerability of love for my husband, in front of people. I did not want a big wedding. To be honest, I wanted to marry him alone. I wanted no one there. I wanted to marry him privately, without fuss, without the expense of a zillion dollars.

I have always had a difficult time being vulnerable around people. I think it has gotten better over the years, but back then it was at its peak. I was also terrified to actually stand there and promise my self, my life, my body to one person for forever. To do that with a bunch of people looking on made me extremely uncomfortable. To then add to that the additional frustrations of a last minute wedding (due to deployment) was even more intense. Getting married was very hard for me to do. It wasn't that I didn't want to marry him. I desperately did. It was just the action of it. It was all so phony, so unreal, so false. A wedding was like a giant parade of look at us! We love each other! Let's make a bunch of promises while all these people watch! Let me just add, I am not anti weddings. It's just that ours was nothing like what we wanted. But we didn't want to let our families down, so we did what we thought they wanted us to do, rather than what we wanted to do.

Needless to say, the day was awful. We didn't have a real cake, I hated my dress, we didn't have a photographer, no first dance, didn't know our officiant (our chaplain got sent off three days before our wedding so we were married by a good 'ole phone book pastor who was kind enough to marry us last minute), sisters weren't exactly nice to me, parents didn't even know the lobster, completely rushed, tornado blew through town, just overall awful. To be fair, D tried her utmost hardest to make it a wonderful day for us. For that I will always be grateful. But it was nothing that the lobster or I wanted.

I suppose it's strange that our actual wedding day was so awful. The relationship has been the most amazing of my life. Everyone says the day doesn't matter, it's the relationship that does. I have to be honest, I completely agree. Our relationship is the most beautiful of all. Maybe that's because the day itself sucked horribly. Maybe having an awful wedding means you get to have an amazing marriage. Or maybe I just need to tell myself that so I can feel better. :)

My husband is the greatest of men. I am so thankful that our son has him as a role model. I am so grateful that every day I get to stand beside him as his partner. I am so happy that he is my best friend. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better husband. He is the epitome of all a Godly man and husband should be. I truly look up to him. I deeply respect him. He still gives me goose bumps every time he touches me. He still makes me giggle like a school girl when he's around. I still feel nervous and anxious those first few seconds when he walks into a room. I know that we're still kids in the marriage realm. I hope that when we're 18, that we will still feel like a couple of teenagers, madly in love, crazy about each other, giggly and goofy.

I love growing up with him. It is such a blast! :)

PS. We continue to say that one of these days we will "redo" our awful wedding day and have it be how WE want it to be. Perhaps one day we will... :)

fruit...do you have it?

The fruit of the Spirit is one of those topics of conversation that the majority of Christians either ignore, or avoid. I think it stems from a very awkward and uncomfortable viewpoint. When discussing the fruit of the Spirit, we are always left with one lingering question... Do I have it? If the answer is "no", then the notion is terrifying and uncomfortable and requires a reaction. The fruit of the Spirit requires us to examine ourselves, and most often in ways that we don't want to.


I have noticed that when choosing people for leadership positions in churches, the fruit of the Spirit is largely ignored. People tend to make leadership decisions on many other factors: I prayed about you and felt lead to you. You kept popping up into my head. You are always doing work for God at our church. You are so nice and you say the right things, most of the time. You are "growing" as a "Christian" so we want to get you in leadership to keep that going... and on and on and on. In all my years of leading, teaching, being taught, being led, etc, I have never heard someone say, "You exhibit the fruit of the Spirit so well that we can see God's work in you and want you to spearhead A, B or C." People select leaders based on feelings, and that, my friends, is unbiblical.


The fruit of the Spirit is something impossible to fake long term. I think that's why Christ says that we will know His people by their fruit (Matthew 7.20). Seriously, think about it. "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law." (Galations 5.22-23) 


Lets just break these down one by one...love. It's sort of an easy one. Most people can say that "Christians" are loving. I think that's sort of the obvious, fake the funk (if you genuinely don't have the Holy Spirit), act nice around people so they think we're loving kind of thing. Joy, on the other hand, is virtually impossible to fake. It is not the same as happiness. I think a lot of people have that confused. Joy is a sort of gut filling, body encompassing, obvious to anyone with any sort of intuition kind of fruit. To be perfectly honest, I have only met one person in my entire life of following Christ and meeting people, who was filled with joy. Peace...do you really have peace? I mean, when the tornadoes are coming, the job is ending, the children are sick, your body is falling apart, do you really have peace? Patience. Ahem...how patient are you? Are you patient when your family member isn't doing what you want? Are you patient when waiting for that new job opportunity to come through? Are you patient waiting for that special guy or gal to come into your life? Are you patient while waiting for your soldier to return home from deployment? Kindness, how kind are you really? And are you kind to people who are kind to you, or are you kind to everyone? Goodness. What does this even mean!? I mean, seriously, what does it mean to show goodness? Faithfulness, are you faithful when no one around you is? Are you faithful in your heart, when that attractive person walks by, or does your mind take you to someplace a little less faithful? Gentleness. Are you gentle when your spouse does something that angers you? Are you gentle when your children are not making the choices you want them to? Are you gentle when people around you are upsetting you? Self control. How controlled are you really? 


After examining all of these things, I don't know about you, but I know in myself, I fail at almost all of them. Which then begs the question, "Do I have the Holy Spirit in me?" Is it possible to have the Holy Spirit for a time and then for Him to leave because of our own sinfulness? Should anyone be in a leadership position in church (deacon/elder, teacher, etc etc) while they are not exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit? 


I don't believe that lack of fruit of the Spirit at any given time causes one to lose salvation. Peter denied Christ three times (he obviously didn't have peace, or faithfulness), but yet I don't believe he lost his salvation in those moments. I do, however, believe that if we do not actively see the fruit of the Spirit in a person's life, then they have no business being in a leadership position. 


We are so quick to assume that someone has Christ in their hearts simply because they say they do. Really!? Is that genuinely common sense? If I go to England and say I am the Queen's niece does that make it true just because I say it is? 


Just because you might see character growth in an individual, it does not mean that God is working in them or through them. Do you really believe so naively, that the devil does not actively put people into our churches, our lives, our congregations, our bible studies, who do not follow God and are there only to cause destruction and dismay? Why are we so quick to ignore that this spiritual battle, the devil is a liar, cunning, sneaky, and very adept at "playing the part" so as to cause mass confusion and deception. We need to open our eyes and actively, genuinely, persistently, TEST THE SPIRITS! We choose to wear blinders that allow us to be so actively led astray. We are all like sheep. 


My heart is troubled with these thoughts. My heart is troubled because in truth, what does the fruit of the Spirit say about me? Who does God say that I am?

SAA. stuff addicts anonymous

I am filthy, freaking rich. Seriously. Honestly, so much so that it almost disgusts me. The very notion that buying a $3 toothbrush is not even a remote issue for me, means that I am considered rich in the majority of the world. When our lives are filled with boredom, I think we have much to be concerned about. When we need entertainment because we "deserve" a break, I believe there is something wrong with that picture.

In the majority of the world, food, water, shelter, and clothing (what many consider the basics of necessity in human life) are scarce. The idea of going into a clothing store and buying clothes is preposterous. The idea of having a television, a computer, the internet is so bizarre and foreign. 

When I turn on my faucet, water comes out. Have you ever fathomed what it would be like to live in a place where you walk for miles to get a jug of dirty water? Have you ever fathomed a place where you can't take a shower whenever you want to? Have you ever fathomed being someplace where the "tap" water will literally kill you if you drink it? 

We are so overstuffed with stuff in America. I know I am. When I look at my house filled with stuff...I become so disgusted. What is here that I really need? Anything? Even as I sit here writing these post, I am irritated with my grabby, sticky, self focused hands thinking about how I want more and more and more stuff! 

How do we break this addiction? Do we need to surround ourselves with environments where stuff ceases to matter? Do we need to move away from the US and embed ourselves in communities that genuinely know what suffering looks like? Do we have to suffer to grow?

I wonder how many times in the course of my life, I have become angry with my children for breaking some item in my collage of stuff. I wonder how many times I have chosen "stuff" over people or relationships. How many times have I watched a movie or been on the internet or on my cell phone, instead of being with my children, or helping people around me? Do I actively seek opportunities to serve others, or do I seek opportunities to serve my stuff obsessed self? Does my husband work to provide food, shelter, clothing, or does he work to acquire more and more stuff? 

We have prostituted ourselves out. We have sold ourselves in jobs, in time, in emotion, in vast dedication to items. To inanimate objects with little to no meaning. We are so focused on stuff that burns up in fires, blows away in tornadoes, crushes in earthquakes, taken away by thieves, destroyed by time...

We buy food we don't eat, stuff we don't use, clothes we don't wear.

I want to be better than this. I want to do more than this. I want the items in my house to have no hold on me. I want to be completely content with whether or not they fade away in an instant. I want to go back to where I was so many years ago, watching my house burn. I want to hold on to the beautiful lesson I learned from that..."stuff" ALWAYS goes away. I want to do better than what I am currently doing. 

sugary sweet

I have the world's greatest husband. Seriously. I don't just mean that figuratively or ridiculously. I am married to someone who knows how to be a man. 

My husband has never once, made me feel worthless. He doesn't take me for granted. He helps me. All the time. I think he helps me more than I help him sometimes. He supports me, encourages me, cherishes me. He makes me feel like a million bucks.

He has taught me so much about living. Despite my immensely broken self, he has never spotlighted that, or attempted to degrade me. Even when I was doing things he knew was wrong, he patiently, prayerfully, and kindly accepted me as I was, and knew I would develop and grow in God's timing, not his. He has shown me the greatest level of heavenly love. He has given me grace.

I am so thankful for him. Truly I am. Every day he teaches me something new. I am in awe of how blessed I am. I genuinely do love being with him.

Catholicism.

This week I keep feeling, tugged, pulled, something'd towards the RCC. It's a notion that confuses and perplexes me, to be perfectly honest. Not that I am against that church. Not at all. Quite the contrary. I definitely think it has a lot of brokenness and issues that need to be corrected and resolved. Truth be told, though, at the core of all things Christianity, I don't know of a single church that doesn't. In my entire life, I have never seen one church that 100% completely follows and obeys what scripture lays out.

While the RCC has some brokenness, it has an immense aspect that I have found in no other church: reverence. In protestantism, worship of God has morphed so much more into a concert, than an awesome awe inspiring, amazingly beautiful, humbling, silencing, amazing act of love towards God. It seems to be more about solo's and spotlights, than it is about who He really is and what it is that He enjoys. People have so little reverence for God. He is portrayed to be all about love and laughter, and His majesty, His fierceness, His justice, His power, are almost completely ignored...especially the presence of His Holy Spirit.

The urging towards the RCC isn't what perplexes me, it's the person connected to it that does. In all my years of loving, fighting, arguing, aggravating, and debating Catholics (including priests and one bishop), he is the only one who gets under my skin. Of our countless "discussions" he has only conceded on ONE issue (and when he did I was so shocked that it literally rendered me speechless).

The complication of him is that he is the last person on God's green earth that I would've ever expected to bring about this situation in my life. I suppose I had become comfortable in the position that no one was smart enough, capable enough, quick thinking enough, or fierce enough to take me on. I am an intense person to discuss theology with. I will not be comforted, nor resigned to wishy washy, "good feeling" religion and if you can't back up what you say, I'm genuinely not interested. Did God create him for the purpose of calling my family? Is that merely coincidence or divinely all laid out?

What do I appreciate about him? Truthfully, his compatibleness. He is capable of holding his own against me. I value that, honestly, I think more than anything else. I am a fast talker, a fast thinker, and I know how to argue. So is he. I honestly don't think there is another person on this planet capable of taking me on, aside from him. I have never met a person like him.

I value that he is not my husband or any other romantic entity in my life. When I was dating SS, I always felt pressured, pushed, forced, and almost begged to "convert" (though to be honest, I don't like that word. Our faiths are virtually identical-protestants and catholics. I think acceptance is a better word, as the RCC is more about humbling one's self to leadership). SS desperately wanted me to be where he was so that he would never be challenged, and so that he could marry me without any sort of nervousness or guilt. With J, he has nothing to gain, nor benefit, by what I do or don't believe. It really doesn't matter to him, one way or the other. That is refreshing.

What I wonder is, when he moves on from my life, will this urging go away? Is the urging linked to his ability to fight me, or is it spiritual? Is he the cause or is Christ? His existence nags me. Is this all coincidence or providence? If it is, just coincidence, does that devoid it of all meaning and intent? If it is providence, is that a divine revelation of where I belong?

It's embarrassing to have loved Christ for so long, to have studied, to have pondered, sought, and desired for so long, and yet to still seem to know so completely little about Him. I love being the student. I suppose what I wonder is... is he trustworthy enough to be the teacher?

circus acts

I wonder at what moment in my life did the notion of all of my goals and ambitions get thrown up in to the vast array that is our atmosphere, and I decided that I wanted to join a circus. You might be asking, the circus? What is she? A trapeze artist? Nope. Terrified of heights. Seriously. If God wanted me to be up high, He would've made me taller. ;)

The notion of ever having a circus was pretty much lost on me when I was fifteen. I didn't grow up in the most delightful of circumstances. To basically fight, force, and beg your way to feeling loved and accepted, isn't my take on having a delightful childhood. Not that I am complaining about it, I believe it instilled in me a fighter pilot nature that has enabled me to withstand the most violent of adulthood experiences. I was not a hilarious child. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't graceful. I wasn't classy. I was hardcore and angry. I was hell bent on perfection. I found my acceptance in achievement (which was largely ignored), and Christianly perfectionism. Truth be told, in my family, if you weren't attempting suicide, or shagging everything in sight, or screaming louder than everyone else around you, then you didn't matter. To rebel against the "system" was what got you attention. I was way too convicted religiously to allow that in myself. I was way too focused on being perfect to allow myself to fall. 

When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with a disorder that would make having children nearly impossible. Truth be told, I think when my doctor said it, I was relieved. The idea of creating a circus (as opposed to leaving the one I grew up in) was atrocious. Why would anyone ever want to have children!?

Perhaps this notion of being unpregnatable and my passionate abhorrence of all things birth control, I never even contemplated cautiousness in regards to conceiving a child. This is where I can say with 100% certainty, that God has a sense of humor.

The woman who was supposed to not be able to conceive (I was literally told that I probably would never be able to have a baby even WITH methods like IVF), was found to be with child...days before my brand new, fresh off the printer, licensed and armed, husband was to head on to the middle east.

The circus began...

Over the years our circus has grown from two, to three, to six, to eight... People have come and gone from our lives. Pets have come and gone. We have broken down the tent, and put it up elsewhere.

All of this leads me to wonder what my circus role is. I mean, who do I portray under the bright lights? I suppose I would be the ring leader. I make sure all of the acts are keeping up with time, looking sharp, and the crowds are entertained. A lot of people might be under the impression the ring leader is the boss, the alpha male...the top dog. However, it just goes to show how little they know about the circus. In a circus, the top dog is the director, not the ring leader. The ring leader is just another act in the grand balancing scheme that the makes up the circus whole.

I wonder how we perform in the grand scheme of things. I wonder if our circus is valuable.

Under the grand illusions of elation that seems to pour out of me, lies the experience of one very complex, and emotional woman. My imperfections are dominant and many. It always seems that no matter how intense my daily effort is, failure is often, and always, an option.

Within the scope of my two very capable and completely fallible of hands, lies a devastation that seems to only rear its ugly head occasionally...perhaps that is because I can only handle it on rare occasions.

I drove for two hours. Circling this giant city that I live in, hoping, praying, screaming, wanting this ugliness that is in me, that is me to go away. Eventually, my tired and weary eyes faltered, and I decided it would be best if I figured out a way to show my face, back at home.

I am wounded and sore. I am disgusted and embarrassed by myself. I am in loathing.

My tiny little heart has a tin cup that it's banging against the bones of my rib cage.

It always seems like the circumstances play out so that I get to experience hell on earth, and then meet some lonely, broken creature, who is where I was at some earlier point in life, and then I get this hell bent, damned frustrating, insane yellow brick road to compassion that I have to pour out on them whether I want to or not. And the ugliness of the entire affair is that life is so freaking messy and complicated and fantastic and hard, and how do you sit still on the sidelines while a perfectly wonderful human being stands super glued to their life of misery? Damn it things could be so different than they are.

Here I sit pondering all of my inabilities...all of my flaws that are flashing as bright as the sun in my face. I know who I am not. I know who I so desperately wish I could be. I wish I could bend myself, and break myself, so as to fulfill the status quo of what people think I should be. Truth is, I don't know how to remove the mar from my marrow. I don't know how to undo the blood from my veins. Where is the liberty in this? Nowhere to be found. No place to be seen.

I don't even think you understand. The depravity of my mind. I don't think you know the pressure that your damaged heart has placed on me. I am weary. I am drained.

It's so easy to pour out the "it's not fair's" all over the whole freaking world. I know that this darkness that washed over me today will stick around for a while and eventually fade away. That seems to be how the Boss likes the play the cards at His table. I suffer...alone. Always with the alone-ness. It's strange to me how comfort finds no way to my soul. Does no one in the world care enough to penetrate the pressure cooker that is my existence? Does no one see beyond their perception of this illusion?

Why do so many have the notion that the strong never fall? Why are we all either damsels or knights? Is there no in between? Can knights sometimes be damsels, and damsels sometimes be nights? Or rather can I just be me, and can you see through your own freaking need of my strength in order to permeate the skin that I wear so thickly and connect to the heart of this matter. Can you, for one time, be me?

I know the question is more ridiculous than the answer. It's a lonely place to dwell. I guess I had just hoped that I could be your knight, and you could be mine.

I am so tired of fighting off all your demons. I am tired of protecting you through the night. I wish, for this moment, that you could stay awake and fight off mine. I wish I could be damaged, and wounded, and broken. I wish I could be splintered and cracked. Or maybe the truth of it all is that I wish you could be the glue the holds me together. I wish you could understand these things without me communicating them. I wish you could perceive me well enough to reach into the thick, black, billowy clouds and promise that you won't leave me alone.

"Where was my conscience? Where was my consciousness? And what do I do with all these letters that I wrote to myself, but can not address?"

the lobster, and pretty-ness, and me.

I am not a girly girl. Seriously. I think of all people who know me, they would seriously look at me and say "Her? Girly!? HA!" I have a dominant personality and I am hardcore. I have just always been that way. I have intensely high expectations for myself, and I have pretty much expected to have the best of the best.

I was never willing to compromise. You know how guys always are about girls (unrealistic, INSANE expectations on what kind of woman they will "allow" to love them?)? ahem...that was me. Just in the male way. I was crazy high in what I demanded from a husband. That is if I would have allowed it to get that far.

Every single relationship that I was in was a settlement. Each of them had unique reasons for why I was with them: loneliness, growth, challenges, comfort, laughter, something to do...but none of them were capable of standing the test of who I genuinely was, and being able to be more of a man than my personality portrayed.

I am intelligent. I don't say that in a look at me aren't I so great? kind of way. It's simply a matter of truth. I don't think I have ever been the kind of girl that a man looks at and goes "oh my gosh I want to shag that mustang right there!" But, to be completely honest, I never wanted a man to look at me and think that ever. It always enraged me the idea of wearing make up, or jewelry, or clothing in order to "lure" a man in. In my opinion, a real man sees beyond all things external to the true nature of the woman underneath. I don't know if I actively sought out the opposite of attractiveness. I never tried to appear ugly, I just didn't give my appearance much thought, because I genuinely wanted to be loved, cherished, and cared for, because of my character, integrity, honor, and virtue, as opposed to my breasts, legs, eyes, lips, etc etc etc. I am so much more than physical appearance.

It's strange to me how the man I married appears to so many as weak. It quite honestly baffles me. I think it shows a pathetically low level of intelligence to see my husband and have a picture of weakness. To know my personality, is to know the incredible amount of intelligence, leadership, and ability that it takes to lead me. My sister told me a long time ago that I would not find happiness until I found a man that was stronger than me. To be perfectly honest, I did not "find" him. God led him to me, in every single sense of the word. Our meeting was divinely created, and our relationship has been completely 100% founded, blessed, sustained, and developed by the grace of God.

I still remember the day I was going to meet him in person (we met on the phone...long story...). Never in my life had I tried on so many outfits. I remember that I was thinking what the heck is wrong with me? I've never cared about my appearance before! I finally settled on jeans, an orange turtleneck that was my mother's when she was young (and yes, I still have it), and a cute jacket (it was really cold outside after all). I spent forever asking my roommates how I should wear my hair, if I looked good, if I should change. I remember them laughing at me, because I think they were completely shocked to see me so nervous. I knew I was going to marry that man the night I met him on the phone. Seriously. I had no idea what he looked like, but I knew. It was instantaneous. If you don't believe me, you can ask my college friends, because that night at dinner I told them all that I had met the man I was going to marry...on the phone.

I think, when it comes to ugly ducklings, the right kind of love and affection can morph them into something so completely different than what they were. I genuinely want to look nice for him. It's strange, because I really don't care about what anyone else thinks. Just him. I know that he thinks I'm beautiful. He tells me all of the time. It always seems that the parts of my body that I am most insecure about, are the one's he cherishes the most.

I am so thankful that God gave him genuine eyes. I am thankful that God blessed him with a deeper perception than skin deep. I am blessed that God laid so heavily on his heart, a desire for character so much more so than physical appearance. He is literally the greatest gift I have ever been given. I am so humbled to be his helper.

the sun is shining

This morning I woke up with the neck acting up. I have an ice pack wrapped around my neck as I sit here typing this post. Apparently holding my head up is proving to be too difficult for my spine this morning. It only seems to hurt when I am not lying down. Strange...what the bones do. :)

Last night was such a beautiful night in our home. It was one of those picture perfect, everything that you hoped for, kind of evenings. Our conversations were wonderful, our snuggles were extra special, my children were cooperative. It was just a wonderful evening. 

I had a funny dream last night and it's making me slightly nervous (as to how realistic it was) that I called someone in my sleep. I think I will check my phone just to be sure. I swear I was talking to someone. I can remember everything about the conversation, like it was literally happening! It's strange to have dreams that seem to be so vivid and real. I'm not a sleep walker/talker (that I have ever been told) so it probably was just a dream. I'd have to be certain so that I don't owe anyone an apology.

All in all, I am looking forward to a good day. Isn't it lovely to be alive this morning? :)

searching for the open window

Sometimes you have the most perfect of all plans. You have prayed about them, meticulously thought them over, and then discovered that those plans just aren't going to happen. So there you are...your path that you had so precisely painted and sculpted is getting volcanoed right in front of you. The other path, the one you had not labored so hard for, is completely wild and scary. It is the amazonian jungle of all paths. You are looking at it and thinking in your head what the heck am I going to do!? I can't go down that path!

Of everything that I imagined to be happening in my life, this is not it. This was not a part of our "plan". To be prejudiced and discriminated against, and then prevented from advancement is the most ridiculous of notions. I can't even begin to fathom my emotions. I can't begin to explain the level of self control that it takes not to freak out and start screaming obscenities at the people that I previously thought kindly of. Those gentlemen should be ashamed of themselves. They should be embarrassed to hold the positions that they hold. At least God knows what they have said. God heard them, even if they believe no one else did. And one day the manipulative, passive aggressive, erroneous statements that they have made will be revealed. Your true nature is now known to me. One day, everyone will see you for who you are.

We have been praying so much about what it is that God has wanted us to do. Sometimes, truth be told, the answers come in the "no" forms much more so than the "yes" forms. When He shuts a door...

I can't deny that I am terrified to walk through the amazonian jungle. The discomfort of my marital life for the past seven years has been so familiar to me. I am used to the insanity that is the military. I am comfortable in the craziness. Maybe it's because I know its insane and have therefore resigned myself to it. Maybe it's because there is a comfort that comes in being uncomfortable. Maybe that's why it all needs to change. God knows that I seem to thrive the best in the most insane of situations. Truth be told, I am grateful for Him allowing me to experience them. It is through hardship, that I grow the most. All the same, I hate to be here.

I wonder what will happen in the days to come. I am afraid. I am uncomfortable. I am nervous. But yet, on the flip side, I have a feeling of a notion of freedom that I have not known since before I married into this life. It's almost like the sun might possibly be rising. What will be next? I have no idea! But whatever it is, I know that the lobster and I will navigate it together and that brings me tremendous comfort.

Imagine a big imagination.

I love listening to my children play. It is always so fascinating the types of situations they create. For instance, this morning, they were playing that my oldest was having a baby (complete with crying out in pain...they don't watch TV and have never seen a baby be born, so where is this coming from!? hehe), while her sisters were her "encouragement" team. They were telling her "You can do it! Keep pushing!"

Other days they play that they're animals and they're in the zoo. One of them is the zoo keeper (trying to keep all the animals in the places they belong) and the rest of them are animals that are trying to escape. I wonder where they come up with this stuff. It's hilarious! Especially when you hear one of them roaring like a lion and then they say "Hang on! I have to go pee! I'll be right back!" It's such a sudden interruption to the image being portrayed. Within a minute they are right back at the roaring and playing.

My kids crack me up. :)

religiosity and the pet peeve

I despise people who claim to a faith but don't live it. Okay, maybe I don't despise the people (because I have some people I care an awful lot about that do this), however this perspective is one of my pet peeves.

I can't begin to tell you how many times I have heard someone say: "I'm Jewish because I was raised that way. I'm Catholic because that's how I was raised. I'm Baptist", etc etc (you're getting the picture, right?). Upon further questioning, you get down to this: "Well, I don't really follow it." OH! I'm sorry! I didn't realize that Judaism, or Catholicism, or Baptism, or any other religionism was a parenting style. I have long been under the understanding that a religion was a deeply held belief. So, if you don't follow it, and you don't believe it, then why do you attribute yourself to it?

My current theory is that people don't want to feel left out, or like they're not a part of the big "club" that connects themselves to a particular faith. If I start talking about church, you either get it or you don't, or you get it through the rose colored glasses of whatever church you may have attended in your youth.

For me, my faith is deeply personal. It has nothing to do with my parents, but yet everything to do with my relationship with my Creator. Period. It isn't about social clubs or statuses, it isn't about friends or popularity. It isn't about feeling like a rebel or feeling morally superior. It is simply about how I have examined the world through my rose colored glasses, and logically decided that love or laughter or joy could not have evolved (as they serve no evolutionary purpose), and then that prompted a question. The question then prompted a search and the search led me to my faith. It has nothing to do with what my parents took me to do on Sunday morning (or Saturday or whenever for some of you).

My question to my "I was raised as" friends is, why be half connected? I mean, in all major faiths, it's pretty much all or nothing (with the exception of my Baha'i pals, and as much as I love you...) you don't get to be a part of the "club" (so to speak) because your parents took you somewhere and you sat there patiently (or impatiently) and played along with the social expectations of that given faith. Belief is belief and it is intense and personal and passionate. If you have no belief then you have no connection so stop associating yourself with them.

Okay. I'm done now. Sorry for my banter. I really do love you guys... :)

Thursdays and Fridays and wonderfulness

The lobster returned last night from a decent stretch of time apart. Not deployment length, but enough to miss him quite terribly. Needless to say, in this military household, last night was awesome!

Our kids wanted to be surprised when he came home. I went to pick him up and came home like normal. The lobster waited outside for my friend to leave and then came and rang the doorbell. I had the kids answer the door and they took a second to process that it was their daddy, but when they did they started screaming "DADDY!" and jumping up and down. It was so fun to surprise them! :)

This morning they are crowding around him like he's a brand new puppy. It is beautiful to sit here watching them be all over him and enjoying him. What a blessed sight it is to see how deeply they love him and cherish him. The scene in our home is filled with joy and a lot of little people's voices telling their father everything that they can possibly think of to tell him.

On another note...I have lost nine pounds in a couple of weeks of yoga. Seriously! I have never lost weight so quickly in my life. I have done an awful lot of exercise routines, and this one is lengthening my muscles, helping  my back, and making me feel like a woman. Plus it also happens to just be having weight fall off. I enjoy that. I wish someone had introduced me to yoga after the triplets!!! I don't know how well I would've been able to do it with the newborn triplets but it would've been nice to try.

Anyway. It's been a great morning so far. I feel so blessed. Now back to the cell phone constantly getting text messages (his), and the phone calls that come all the time from his soldiers, and the busy-ness of having the whole family together. I honestly wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. :)

you

Love is as simple as a hello, as painful as a goodbye, as delightful as a shooting star, as exciting as a new discovery. The deliciousness comes between the beginning and the end and how whole heartedly, how passionately, how truly you experience it. Love is more than poetry. It is the essence of being. To love someone, and to be deeply and genuinely loved in return is the greatest earthly gift a person can be given. More beautiful than jewels, more precious than praise, more delightful than laughter.

It has been my greatest honor to love you for all these fantastically messy, exceptionally electric, blaringly bold, immensely crazy years. I would do it all over again in a heart beat.

REDII

Tonight the kids and I were all playing together on my bed. They were burying me in pillows and laughing hysterically as I burst out from under the pillows. I love how my children find such joy in interaction with me. It's not that we're doing fifteen thousand expensive things...it's the creative games where we all just rough house that they seem to adore.

You popped into the picture when my son sat still and was looking across the room at a picture. I know that everyone has always said he looks like you, but in this moment...it was like time stood still and you were looking across the room. Truth be told, my eyes welled up with tears. This launched all of the kids into a thousand questions about you and why I was crying.

I think death is a difficult concept for children. I suppose it's really a difficult concept for anyone. How do I describe you to this beautiful little boy that is your spitting image? I miss you so much. I wonder what traits of yours, aside from the physical he will have when he grows up. I wonder if he will struggle with any of your struggles. I wonder if he will love like you loved. I wonder if he will care about people as deeply as you did. I hope he doesn't struggle as much with communicating it though...

Your love was one of my most favorites. I understood you. I still remember the only conversation that I ever had where I was so hurt by you. I remember you saying so emotionally "What choice do I have? It's you or him. Who do I choose?" I remember in that moment being so hurt for you. I remember telling you that I would never abandon you no matter what. I remember telling you I would love you always and I wouldn't go away. I also remember telling you that it was a sucky choice that you made, but that I understood. For some reason that conversation popped into my head today.

Your death was one that I grieved so heavily. For days I couldn't sleep. I just kept hearing your voice calling my name over and over again in a haunting tone. It was almost like your ghost, or your spirit, was begging me for something. My spirit was begging you to just believe. I would've given anything for you to believe.

I have no monument to remember you by. I have no place to go to in order to feel your presence...except the red chairs. They don't smell like you anymore. Somehow that has gotten lost over the past year. Your smell has become mine...your chairs have become mine...I still remember the last time I saw you sitting in  that chair...you had those dark pants on with those white socks. It was Christmas. Our dad and us were all there. I know how beautiful that moment was for you. I know it was a dream of yours being fulfilled. I was happy to see it done for you. I was happy to be a part of that image in your heart.

I miss calling you. I miss talking to you about life, love, the Army, and war. I miss the connection that we shared. I miss your encouragement. I miss it terribly. It was always so difficult for you to show your emotions...and the times you did are forever tattooed on my spirit.

I love you Grandpa. I am so thankful that you always knew that. I am thankful that you never questioned it. I am thankful that we were close...I am thankful that I showed you my vulnerabilities, and that I was blessed to see yours. I am thankful for the laughs, for the advice, for the disagreements, for the stories, for your friendship. I am thankful that I have a piece of you walking around in front of me every day...I am thankful that my son looks just like you.