Bliss

The other day I was driving off to a meeting. I glanced up and saw the clouds rolling away from the mountaintop. The sun was simultaneously beaming down, punching through those misty clouds. The mountaintop was all at once flooded with light, flooded with beautiful colors, while the bright white clouds moved away. It looked like a scene from a movie. I was struck by it. It was the kind of moment where you're so moved that you didn't even realize you were holding your breath until you exhale out an audible phrase Wow. Immediate follow up thought: I'm going to miss this. 

That phrase probably hit me harder than it would for any normal individual. You see, Chief and I have not experienced a lot of Army moves. There are good reasons why I refer to being Moses'd here in the desert. I am nomadic to my very soul. When I finally up and moved away from Lake-View-Pick-A-Fruit (a term lovingly bestowed upon my childhood city by a friend of mine. It was hilarious then, and it still is. Especially if you've lived in my childhood city...), I fell in love with the idea of moving. I liked change, thrived on discovering new places. I have lived at this duty station for so long that I'm often referred to as the "old lady who's been here forever" amongst my FRG compadres.

I have been eager to move. And then that cloudy mountaintop thing planted the seed in my heart Some day you WILL move. The strange thing is, that thought stung me. It launched me into a memory-lane type of experience. It has caused me to feel differently in the midst of my conversations here. These are all fleeting. They will go away, and one day (possibly soon), we will pack up this home and move on. 

This is my "home". This is where Bruni defeated every single odd and walked down the hallway to us. This is where the trips learned to walk, talk, play... It's where I gave countless breathing treatments. That spot on the corner where the stomach flu struck through with a vengeance (and red food), dying the carpet permanently. The hole in the wall from the kids I babysat, who's mom abandoned them, and soldier dad needed help. The kitchen where countless meals, cups of coffee, quiet moments of cuddles have played out. This is where Lolli lost her first teeth, read her first book, grieved her first loss... This is where we all grieved the goodbye of our family dog. 

These walls, this roof... The memories live in my head, and I will carry them with me until such time as I become senile. It's just crazy to me that we will go, and someone else will move in. It's crazy that the next family won't know about the bathtub that had the giant hole in it when we moved in. That this new family won't know about the cabinets that have fallen off the wall, or the counter top that is still not screwed in to the cabinet. They won't know about the doors that stick when it gets hot outside, or the outlets that don't work (and never have). These new people won't know about all of the love, all of the laughter, all of the joy, all of the life that has been lived here. They won't know about our story. 

It's amazing how difficult it can be to live in the moment. To keep your mind, heart, and soul open to the reality that these are the best days. This place, this duty station, has blessed me with many things I never had before. Some good, some bad, some surprising, some agonizing. But I think that's the point of it anyway. Bliss is never what you think of it as. Bliss is the unexpected moment, where the clouds roll down off of the mountaintop and the sunbeams shine down in all their glory, and you hear your heart celebrating it.

It Comes

It comes in unexpected moments. The sun will be rising, and the curtain will be shifted ever so slightly so that a beam of sunlight dances across your face. You'll squeeze your eyes tighter as if you're trying to shut out the sun beams, and I'll be there with my eyes wide open catching it, almost as if catching a secret embrace. God danced across your face, and I got to see.

It comes when fragility, exhaustion, grief washes over and the need to protect, defend, pretend fades away. When weakness becomes the dominant language, and safety comes only with you. It whispers across my spine as my whole being sinks against your chest.

It comes when the sound of giggles, laughter, and silliness waft down the hallway as I'm lost in some mundane event. The glee-filled sound of some little person's voice saying Daddy! Hahaha! You can't get me!!! AH!

It comes when uncertainty and chaos fill every single crevice of our lives. In the midst of the insanity, your fingers intertwine with mine. Unspoken words pour through that connection, and overflow the deafening noise.

It comes when, in the most devastating moment of grief, our sobs and tears, echo through these walls in unison. When eyes are swollen shut, noses are running, and tissues abound.

It comes when we stand side by side, and kneel side by side, on Sunday mornings. When we hold hands in prayer, sometimes in a rushed, agitated plea for quick relief, and some times in immense gratitude crying out Thank You God! Thank You God! Thank You God!

It comes when we walk in to a doctor's office, ready to stand as the unbending platform for our seven year old daughter, as she faces down the demons of cancer possibilities, endless blood tests, and horrible illness. As we sit there and listen to her fate, to our fate, doing our best to be present in the moment.

It comes when we climb in to our car and drop you off to continue the war-fight; separating fingers, embraces, legs-to-legs-on-the-couch.

It comes when I feel so horrendously ugly, and your eyes glance at me from across the room, saying with the most sincerest, truest, and deepest of soul-speak You are beautiful. You are SO beautiful to me.

It comes when changing the nine zillionth diaper, cleaning up the ten thousandth projectile vomit, giving the 6 hundredth dose of medicine/breathing treatments/physical therapy exercises, and the exhaustion drops us to the floor. When people chip in with their thoughtless words, useless "advice", ridiculous marital judgments. It comes when stupidity overwhelms, and life feels nearly lifeless.

Thank you, Chief, for knowing exactly what I'm talking about. I love you more than I could ever begin to say.

Milk and Honey, Infant Christianity

It's a powerful life moment when you recognize that you are not as "christianly" mature as you think you are. The moment where it hits you like a sucker punch to the soul, and your 30+ years of seeking, trying, studying, learning, growing, believing more of yourself comes crashing down like a ming vase at your feet. You are not as grown up as you imagine.

In America, Christianity is a farce. It's a sickness that permeates through our religious society and has broken our witness. We are knee deep in Bible studies, Sunday School classes, Scripture memorization, and religious statements, but they penetrate no deeper than the most surface layer of our souls.

What is love of God? It's a soul changing, heart gutting, give-it-all-up-and-away experience. It's seeing the world with a completely different set of eyes. It's reflexive. It's your knee-jerk reactions in pivotal moments. And therein lies the answer to the depth of your "christian" maturity... when you are hurt, angered, rejected, lied to, cheated, mistreated, cut off on the freeway'd, what is your knee-jerk reaction? When you walk by the homeless person who is begging you for money/food/water, what do you instinctively do? Look away? When a "friend" rejects you for your faith, or an acquaintance spreads lies about your family, how do you respond in your heart? Is it with vengeance? Anger? Hatred? Animosity? Self pity? Rage?

If you're me, then it's probably all of the above. And it's an ugly heart exposure type of scenario. I'm going to make so and so pay for this injustice. They'll regret crossing me! Knee-jerk, almost reflexive, responses. In the midst of my rage, I heard a voice, almost whispering, "Where is Jesus in you?" Truth is, He wasn't. He wasn't present in my heart at all. The only sentiments that brought him up to my brain were self centered Why are You doing this to me? Not very Jesus-y to me...

So I freely confess, I have a milk and honey christian heart. I place myself in the bottom of the ladder and I confess that my heart is sick, and disgusting, and ugly. My heart seems to have learned these surface responses of love and kindness, but underneath it's all rage. I expose the ugliness. I confess it. Because I want to be a meat-fed Christian.

I want my heart to react with gentleness, patience, love, mercy, goodness, self-control when tested. I want my heart to reflexively show kindness and persistence in the face of immeasurable hostility. I want my love to be bigger than as long as You give me everything I want, when I want it, how I want it. I want my peace to be deeper than milk and honey Jesus.

The Apostles didn't live on milk and honey. They were tortured, tested, rejected, forsaken, starved, beaten, abandoned. Joy abounded. Joy abounded! Absorb that for a moment. They weren't launched in to a panic mode because the government cut off their paychecks. They weren't launched in to an angry, vengeful, spiteful viewpoint because the government beat them (and many were killed). They reacted with love, mercy, gentleness and faithfulness. They were meaty Christians. They were grown up Christians. They were beautiful, hopeful, and inspiring. Because the things of this world stopped mattering. The hurts, angsts, frustrations, and horrible things of life on earth washed away. Their eyes were fixed on eternity. Their minds were made clear.

I want to be that kind of Follower. I want to know Love like that. I want to live Love like that.

Impact Moments

There are moments in life where the road direction changes. It doesn't matter if you are anticipating it, avoiding it, or wanting it. The fork is there, the impact is impending, the choice is yours. Life moves in slow motion in those moments. It's you vs the questions that you don't want answers to. It's you vs all of the stuff you haven't taken the time to face. It's you vs what you wanted and reality.

The silence before an impact is deafening. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but I say it happens before the choice. I say it happens as you're sitting there gutted out, ears ringing, heart aching, hands shaking. I say it happens in the instant where your whole world view becomes something different and you're left wondering what the hell to do next. I say it happens as the shock erupts through your body and forces its will upon you.

Grief hits in a myriad of ways. The loss of the life-direction can be devastating. Change sucks. Learning to find yourself in the midst of the unbalanced, unpredictable, constantly shifting chaos is powerful. Finding light in the darkness, peace in the muck, and sanity in the insane is like finding a tiny space of fresh air. You're gasping and gasping and clutching at straws just trying to make sense of it all. But maybe that's the point of it. Life doesn't make sense. It's irrational, ridiculous, and almost embarrassing when you trim it all down to brass tax.

We waste so much time trying to understand why we're not "happy". We spend ungodly amounts of money on self help books, counselors, alcohol to medicate away the symptoms of life. It's really just "okayish". I think that's sort of the trick of it. Learn to accept that life is just "okayish". Some times it's hell, sometimes it's heaven, and when the scales of impossible experiences are weighed, we should be able to say "It was okayish."

But for now, there are these moments of forks in the road. For now there are these shaky hands that won't steady themselves, and ears that won't stop ringing. For now this heart is aching and racing in such a deeply unnatural state, as it forces the mind to accept a new scenario. For now there are new scenes unfolding, and the subconscious just keeps whispering over and over again Resistance is futile. Resistance is futile. Resistance is futile. 

Resistance is futile. The change is here. Nothing will ever be the same again. Ever.

Let the Ant Love Begin

I have ant-blood on my hands. I think I could safely call myself an ant-serial killer. I have had a passionate hate-filled relationship with them for years.

I'm sure you hate them. You know you do. Their creepy crawly little bodies invading your home, your yard. They infest, bite, and destroy picnics. They invade our kitchens, and destroy our "good" days. We are forced to get out the ant spray, and clean, clean, clean. Half the time we have to throw away any unsecured/opened foods because they've damaged them irreparably. Whoever named them "ants" probably wasn't thinking clearly, right? I mean an "ant" is also an "aunt" and they're nice and fun and they bring you presents and stuff. No, you probably believe that ants should be called beelzebub or something of that sort. Am I right?

I, too, am not an ant fan in my home. We have had to clearly define the lines and limits in our relationship. But I freely admit, I'm beginning to love them. I feel a sense of aching when people load their lawns up with chemicals just to kill them off.

Did you know that ants are essential elements in nature? Have you ever stopped to consider how important they are in regards to maintaining pest control, so that our flowers, crops, vegetables can grow efficiently?

I stumbled on the discovery of ant greatness a few months back. I had a bell pepper plant that somehow became infested with Aphids and started to die. A quick google search will tell you to wrap that plant up in a bag and throw it away. No. joke. Aphids will invade a plant and kill it off if they're not contained. I tried the soapy water mix, but these aphids seemed to have adapted somehow to enjoy that stuff. They only doubled in amount! I tried the floodgate method, which didn't work either. So I put her outside, in my front yard, away from all of my other plants. I was hoping to purchase some ladybugs to maybe try to save this plant. Side note: As ridiculous as this sounds, I have become passionate about plant survival of late. They're almost like children, or pets, in a bizarre way. And in return for your love and devotion, they give you food. It's a genius relationship if you ask me!

The day after I put her in my front yard, fire ants moved in. They were all over that plant. They were covering that thing so hard that it really seemed like it was heroine and the ants were addicted. I thought to myself Well, she's for sure going to die now. Sad. Being the smart person that I am, I'm not about to try to pick up a plant and put it in a trash bag when it's covered in fire ants. Those suckers already have a passionate love of biting my flesh, so I figured I'd leave it be until they died down enough to get rid of it.

Then the monsoon season came. She was being watered by nature, and covered in fire ants. After a week, I went out to check on her. You know what I saw? A happy bell pepper plant! It even had a bell pepper actually growing on it! Not only did the fire ants not kill my plant, they saved it! They ate all of the aphids and in the process sexed the flowers so that they grew bell peppers!

I wasn't sure if this was due to the ants, or the rain, until recently. It happened again. This time, my watermelon plant became infested. She was producing several watermelons when they all started to die off. The leaves were wilting and she was very unhappy. Upon closer inspection, one saw that the leaves had been invaded with aphids. (bastards) Again, I attempted to do everything to save her. I pruned her way back, cut off the fruit, sprayed her with soapy water, dowsed her in a water bath, all to no avail. Then the ant colony moved in. They came, and the watermelon plant thrived. It grew like a crazy person, and became happy again. The aphids disappeared. Watermelons are growing again. When the aphids disappeared, so did the ant colony. How do I know it was the ants? Because this time there wasn't any rain. Just ants.

Ants are plants' heroes. Maybe that's how they got their name? Plants --> ants. I like to envision the ant colonies having signs up in their houses that say things like "Aphids are the enemy!" "Plants are our friends!" Ants = Pro Plants!" "The Ant-Friends-of Plants-Society wants YOU!"

So I'd like you to think about what you might be killing off, the next time you pour boiling water down a hole in your backyard. I'd like you to contemplate how much devastation our farming community (much of it brought on by themselves caving in to big Farma, and the government caving in to Big Seed Co) has already endured. I'd like you to think about learning to live in harmony with ants, instead of hatred. They hate the smell of vinegar. Maybe you can spray that around your baseboards/windows/doors once a month instead of pesticides. It's safer for you, your children, your neighbors, your pets; and then you don't have to go to sleep at night thinking of the billions and billions of innocent, plant-loving ants, that you've murdered.

I am here to encourage you, to let the death end, and the ant-love begin. :)

Flu Shots

We have entered in to a realm in society where common sense seems to have disappeared. People blindly follow the advice of individuals without thinking it through. We have a deep mistrust of the medical professionals (AKA Doctors). It's almost like they have become the "bad guys" and all of a sudden the individuals who did not go to medical school are the "experts". I find myself often shaking my head and saying "HUH???"

If you read my blog, then you know that I have eighty thousand children, the majority of which were born in one take. I think right there I should be labelled an "expert". Ha!

I am a passionate "health freak". You can ask my dearest friends how much I harass them about what they're eating/doing to maintain optimal health. I cut out the majority of processed foods long before it became trendy to do so (I do still occasionally partake of "junk" so that my babysitter will want to come to my house. HAHAHA!) Being that I am in "that crowd" of people, you might be shocked to know that my children receive the flu shot. I know many, many, many people who are fiercely opposed to the flu shot. I can understand the arguments against it, and the feelings of nervousness in putting things in to your body that you don't really understand. It's the exact same feeling that I have when I board an airplane. I don't know how to fly a plane, and I don't know the pilots, and it freaks. me. out. I get it. It's scary. But for crying out loud, use some common sense!

If you have children with medical issues (especially of the lung sort), do you really think it's wise to not get them the flu shot? If you pay attention to all of those articles about not vaccinating, they're referring to the "average healthy human". Newsflash: if you have a child with asthma/Reactive Airway Disease/Chronic Bronchitis/any other lung "problems" then they are NOT an average healthy human.

There were two years where I did not get my trips vaccinated for the flu. Neither of them were because of any trends against such things, but rather due to two circumstances: one year they were sick too much to have a healthy window in which to be vaccinated, and another year I was very sick and by the time I health'd up, it was too late. You want to know what happened to my average "unhealthy" humans? They almost died. Yeah. My son coded (that's: stopped breathing) in my arms, at his doctor's office. Not just once either. My daughter's kidneys shut down, and I spent three weeks in the hospital where for four nights straight my helpless, dying, child cried out: "Mommy help me! Mommy help me!" over and over and over again around the clock (Nurses are amazing. And when I succumbed to the same sickness my children did, my daughter's nurse stayed at her bedside all night long so I could rest. When she had another patient she needed to care for, she left and helped them, and then came back to my child. That's heroism. FYI). I sat at the bedside of my child while she hallucinated the presence of her deployed father, because the flu had so permeated and sickened her brain that she began to see things that weren't there. Why did this happen? Because they got the flu. Why did they get the flu? Because they didn't get the flu shot. Period. Cut paste go to print.

I constantly am bombarded with articles about why we shouldn't vaccinate our kids. I get the sentiments, I really do. But I'm never bombarded with articles about why we should vaccinate (unless it's from the American Medical Association, but let's face it... those people are the evil minions trying to shove these poisonous vaccinations down our throats! Right??? -I'm joking-). I'm not saying the flu shot is for everyone. But I am saying this: on the side of the vaccination debate, I come out on the side where the best interests of my children lie. It's not about good guys and bad guys, it's about being able to adequately look at the health of my own children and recognize what is in their best interests. If the flu shot is "dangerous" as some claim it to be, is getting the flu more or less dangerous? Is all of the medical intervention necessary, to keep one's child alive should they get the flu, more or less dangerous than that one vaccine? Think things through, my friends. Don't jump on to a bandwagon without a clear picture of what happens. I certainly believe that we need to make decisions from an educated viewpoint. I absolutely believe that what's best for me and my children, is not necessarily what's best for others. However, I also believe that my children's pediatrician cares passionately, deeply, and fiercely about the health and safety of my children. I trust his two trips through medical school (here in the United States and also in France I believe). I trust his 20+ years of intervening, assisting, and helping sick children. I trust him when my child is coding in his office and he says Get in your car now and speed to the hospital. You'll get there faster than an ambulance. They'll be waiting outside for you. I trust him when he walks in while my child's kidneys have stopped functioning and says Don't worry. I'll fix everything! She'll be fine! I trust him. And every time he has given my children the flu shot, they haven't gotten the flu.

I freely admit that I, the Birkenstock-wearing-health-freak, gives her children the flu shot. Do you relate, to the need to vaccinate?