growing

Have you ever looked around and found yourself lost? Okay, no, this is not some pun on the series finale of Lost last night. I haven't seen it. We don't have cable. So please don't talk to me about it. Okay...back on target. I have found that the busier I get, the more people I'm surrounded by, the easier it is to get "lost". This happened to me recently. I was so busy, so immersed in people's live (which is good, not necessarily bad), so focused on being "distracted" that I realized I was exactly that! Distracted! My house wasn't being cared for appropriately. My children were being dragged to and fro my various activities. Life was busy, but not God honoring. I looked at myself and was like, "Who the heck are you?" To be honest, I didn't like what I saw. I have long striven to be a person not interested in, nor participating in, gossip. It's the dreaded "G" word that so many women struggle with. Well, I guess men do too, but I'm not a dude so I can't relate. :) I looked at myself and started paying attention to how I was speaking. I started having all sorts of opinions about things that had nothing to do with me. I started venting about other people who were upsetting me. I started being one of those busy body women that seems to have a lot of "friends" but isn't really doing what God wants her to do. Side note: this is not a judgment on anyone else. I know several women who are able to be actively involved in many aspects of people's lives and NOT be this way. They are amazing women and I am in complete awe of their self control and glory to God. I, however, am NOT (yet) one of these women.

Okay, back to topic. So I started praying. I started going...okay God...what do You want me to do? How should I handle this? How should I change? Truthfully, I just had to stop. I went to one of my advisors and asked her take. She told me I needed to step back and evaluate. What was I doing out of obligation? And what was I doing out of glory to God? And what was I doing to feel "busy"? And what was I doing out of love? Truthfully, there was a little bit of that in everything I was doing. It was partly out of love, obligation, Godness, and "busy-ness". So I just stopped. I stepped back and I examined. Who am I? Why am I here? What am I doing?

So much seemed to come to light in the process of that experience. You learn so much when you start to go through experiences. You learn a lot about who is a part of the "close" circle, and who isn't. It's sort of like Jesus and his apostles. I imagine that there were ENORMOUS amounts of people that called Jesus their friend. And I'm sure Jesus in His heart adored and loved each of those people back. But there were also a chosen few who were a part of His support "team". He had twelve people (and one that he knew would betray Him) that He told special things to. He leaned on them. He prayed with them. He fellowship with them in a unique way. He loved all, but had a select group. I started realizing how important that is in my own life. I have always lived my life like an open book. If someone asks, tell them. Lay it all out. Be clear. As time is going on, I am seeing how this can be quite foolish.

I am to love everyone. But I am not necessarily to share my life with everyone.

I am still not quite sure what this will actually look like in my life. I am learning so much about who I am and who God wants me to be. I want my life to be a reflection of Him. I want my thoughts, words and opinions to be a reflection of him. I want to be genuine, loving and different...I don't want to be a part of the "norm". Not the "normal" Christian world, nor the "normal" world in general. Ugh. Sometimes growth sucks. :)

Emerald City

Today for the first time in ages...I played church hookey. No, I did not cease to worship nor praise God...I just didn't happen to do it in a building. Have you ever awakened and realized...you just need to get out of town? That was me this morning. We have all been sick in our household, so we weren't exactly planning on going to church anyway. We were sitting on the sofa with our sniffles and our coughs and our scratchy throats and I looked at my husband and said, "I need to get out of El Paso." He sort of laughed and was like....uh....where are you going to go? I said, "No. Seriously. I need to get out of El Paso. Now!" I said, "Let's go on an adventure!"

So we packed up our four kids and headed off. We weren't exactly sure where we were going or what we were going to do when we got there. We had in our minds the idea of going to this space museum about an hour away, but we were not exactly sure if it was what the doctor ordered.

I LOVE adventures. I love the idea of getting in your car and just going. The trouble with where I live, though, is that it is surrounded by nothingness and ugliness. It is the truest sense of the word ugly that ever existed. Buildings stretch as far as the eye can see. It is a sea of concrete and man-forced "trees" amongst rocks and sand and dirt. Ugly. I explain this to you so that you can sort of grasp the notion of going on an adventure here. We did NOT expect to discover anything beautiful.

We drove for a couple of hours. We did in fact find that space museum and we thoroughly enjoyed touring it. It was fabulous and quite educational. But something prevented us from heading back towards home when we left there. We got back in the car and kept on. We saw a sign for some apple orchard and thought that we should head that way. So we did. We drove further and further from home, when I kid you not...we discovered the emerald city. Okay...so maybe not literally the Emerald City, but a green like my eyes had never before seen. I had forgotten what it meant to me to see beauty. We drove in this beautiful scenery (green grass fields, huge pine trees, birch trees, birds singing, brooks babbling, etc etc) for hours. The whole time my heart was bawling its eyes out. I literally had no words. I was so in awe of God's creation. The sky was this vivid magical blue, with huge fluffy white clouds. I am convinced this was all created so that I could discover it on this much needed day.

I have seen so much ugliness here lately. My eyes feel weary of seeing and my ears grow drained from hearing. It seems that everyone has a complaint or a drama issue and it is so discouraging. Even those who are trying to obey and honor God are bogged down from the drama that other people are constantly pouring onto them. The world, as a whole...just sucks. But to go to this place, where all of the dirt and muck and ugliness just faded away...I felt for the hours that we were there, as if all was right with the world. My soul felt at ease. That feeling came from the scenery. I believe that I am a person who is affected by physical beauty. I mean, scenic beauty. I still hold in my mind the visions of a Kansas sunset....where the beautiful trees are black against the darkening blue sky and the dark green fields. I wish that I was a painter so that I could paint you the beauty that I was fortunate enough to experience in Kansas. This place reminded me of that. I could get lost there and never come back. My husband kept telling me, "Maybe we will retire here." I just smiled and told him not to joke about such things. But it truly was beautiful. I wonder if the people who live there acknowledge it for what it is. I wonder if they appreciate what they live in. I wonder if they wake up every morning in awe of what their eyes are so lucky as to behold...

I feel alive again. I didn't even realize how close to dead I had been feeling. It's strange because I know I am alive in Christ and I know my strength and encouragement and ability to do ANYTHING comes completely from Him. I also believe, though, that He knows me so intimately, so passionately, so romantically, that He is aware of the desires of my heart. He knows how deeply I long for green. So in this place, where it feels like the brown, dark, death is always looming. Where the cockroaches have their day and the spiders rule the town...a victory has been made. I KNOW there is LIFE not too far away. And you can't beat me down with your dirt anymore! :D

PS. My husband, after having me read this post to him, felt it necessary for me to mention that our daughter threw up (projectile vomited) all over our car while we were in emerald city. Yup...even THAT didn't ruin it for me! :)

Change.

I am very unsure how to begin this post. I don't have a catchy phrase or one liner. I don't have an extravagant opening. I honestly feel almost like a sick and demented individual. I do not function well, when all is "well." It is a weakness that I have struggled with since the year of my fifteenth birthday. That year began a journey for myself and my family that lasted quite some time and before it was over...boasted the burning of my house, multiple car accidents (all of them terrible), the almost death of my little sister, and the complete and utter emotional demise of my family. I grieved for over a year, as a result of those days. They are forever engraved in my mind. They were excruciatingly painful, challenging and awful. Yet, I found more comfort during those days than I know how to explain.

I find that I seem to grow the most, endure the best, and function the most clearly, when all is terrible in my world.

I am a control freak. I make every effort to control everything about my existence that is humanly possible. I know this is foolish and completely stupid, because I honestly can not control ANYTHING in my world at all. It is all out of my hands and in the hands of my Maker. However, that never seems to stop my sick and depraved mind from trying...all the time...at all costs. In the midst of chaos and heartache, I am most honest to internally admit my weakness. It is easy for me to write to you that I am weak...that I am helpless...But do I really believe it? Yes, I believe it. But do I really EXPERIENCE it? No. I do not. I am not having forced in my face any inability to get through my moments, or my heartache. Life is good in my home. My husband is amazing and beautiful. My children are intelligent and growing. They all love God and are seeking to please Him and honor Him in their lives. Yet, I find myself looking around and going...I've got it ALL under control. It's foolishness and it's stupid.

I believe that one of the biggest lies the devil has tricked us with, is the belief that "good times" are actually good. How so? What joy is it for me to gain the whole world, and yet to forfeit my soul? Why is it so good for me to have a beautiful home, nice cars, manicured and cleaned children, all the things I could hope and ask for...yet to forfeit my soul? I am a sick person. Truthfully I am. When all is falling apart...then I see His beauty rising.

I have to be honest...I feel completely devastated. I find myself crying over so many things. I find myself frustrated by my circumstances. I drive by these men...filthy, dirty, unmanicured, no hair cut...unshaved...and I am repulsed by myself. Sure, the compassion wells in me for a few minutes, and maybe even some bible verses pop into my head "feed the hungry...feed the homeless...whatever you do for the least of these, you do for Me." Then begins the internal struggle within myself...how do I know they're not buying drugs, or alcohol? How do I know he's not some liar, that really lives in a nice house with nice clothes, and this is what he does just to mess with the world? All of the excuses pour into my mind. Or maybe I'll get on my high horse and say to myself, "Yes. I will give them some money." Here! Let me throw you my loose change! It doesn't really cost me anything to help you. It doesn't really matter if I no longer have that fifty cents. Big deal. It cost me nothing. It's like throwing it at a dog and then walking away. Or maybe I'll hand out some loose breakfast bars I've got sitting in my car. Again...costs me nothing. Don't get involved. Don't ask questions, and most of all...don't touch them. WHY!? These are people! PEOPLE! They're not dead dogs, or human waste. They have feelings. They had hopes and dreams. Sure, maybe everything sucks now...but they are still of value. Why am I afraid to touch them? My God, what on earth would that feel like? To have people not want to touch me? To have no one to touch my hands or hug me, or hold me? What would it be like to be cold, and have nowhere to go? What would it be like to have to BEG to eat. And then have people in their nice cars judging me, and assuming I was on drugs? Or an addict? Or crazy?

I am sickened by myself. I am sickened that I honestly believe I am a person of value. I am sickened by what these people go through. I have no idea what the answers are. I can only imagine what it would be like for them to have shelter. To have a warm bed, and clean sheets, and a shower. To have a shower! Clean clothes! To be able to cut your nails, and wear clean socks. I know there are shelters and all that nonsense in this town. I know that there are ways to "send them off' to people who are there to "help" them. But why am I so resistant to be the actual person who does the helping? Why don't I think about this all the time...day and night...unceasingly? Why does this only haunt me when I drive by them begging on the street corners? Why am I not kept awake at night by their torment? Why am I not driven unendingly to make this change? I'm not talking about changing laws, or governmental regulation...I'm talking about PEOPLE. Why am I (this one person) not doing all that is in my power to help them?

This same notion applies with what is going on in Darfur. Do not be deceived, Americans...we are turning a blind eye to the sufferings in the world...in our country...in our streets...God, even in our homes. Half the time we are oblivious to the emotional agonies that our own dearly loved ones are enduring. How can I possibly look around this place and believe that all is well? All is NOT well! All is terribly, terribly wrong. We, as Christians, waste so much time arguing this policy and that policy. We waste time fighting against "gay" marriage, or whatever other token argument is going on in the political realm. I'm not saying I oppose a political voice. But I am saying this: why are we so completely NOT focused on the things that actually matter? Why are we completely distracted from loving others the way that God commands us to over and over and over again in His word?

I am sickened by myself. I am sickened by my sinfulness. By the ugliness that dwells in me. And this sense of pride, or like I'm better than anyone else. I am sickened by our government's position that we must FORCE people to help others, rather than people being so emotionally and psychologically driven to help. I am sickened that we are not solving the problems before us. I am sickened that I am one in the "group" of ignoring the sufferings of others. I am sickened that we are so focused on our own self pity, our own heartaches and frustrations (weight, cars, houses, credit cards, lovers, distance, etc etc etc). I can say, with almost a complete certainty, that people struggling with starvation could care less about their "weight", or their lovers, or their cars, or houses. They are simply working to survive.

I am hungry. I am hungry to change myself. I am hungry to leave this place where life is so focused on stuff and the acquiring of more stuff, or the self deprecation of how much stuff you have, or the arguing with people not to be "judged" about how much stuff you have...but the focus is the same. It's all about "stuff". Who the hell cares? Seriously. Who is going to go to your funeral and go, you know? She was really cool! She had a BMW. She lived in Bel Air. She was freaking awesome, she always had a Gucci purse. And she was NOT fat. I mean, for crying out loud, if that is what was said about me...I would be very likely driven to come back from the dead and punch everyone in the face.

I know this is a rant. I apologize to you, dear reader, for my tirade. I want to be different from who I am. I want to be so in love with God that I could care less about what I have, or don't have. I want none of it to matter to me at all. I want to be a "crazy" Christian. In fact, I don't even want to consider myself worthy enough to label myself "Christian". I'd rather be known as someone who loved Jesus. Not a "Christian". I want to be DEEPLY moved, to tears even, when I see someone starving, or homeless, or in need of a shower. I want to be moved so passionately that I ACT. That I reach out and hold their hand while they're standing on the street corner. I want to be driven to do that without reaching for the hand sanitizer after I've driven off. I want to stop being sickened with myself. I want true and lasting change in myself. Forever.

Remember

Open your eyes. Open your eyes and absorb all of it as it is passing through you, by you, around you. Remember it. Remember it with all that you have. Remember the tiny details. The ticking of the clock. The position of the sun in the sky. The temperature. Were you cold? Were you hot? Were you nothing at all? Remember the beeping of the machines. Remember the tears...Oh forget it. I know you will never forget the tears. Yours, his, theirs... Remember the tiny diapers. Remember the blood pressure cuff that was the size of a bandaid. Remember the bottles which were measured in millileters, instead of ounces. Remember the nurses...they were your lifeline. Somehow they seemed to love them almost as much as you did. Remember the IV's. Remember the heart monitors. Remember the "baby" sunglasses for when they were under the billirubin lights. Remember the clothes. Remember thinking that those clothes looked like they were for a Barbie Doll. Remember the hours you spent pumping breast milk....for the feeding tubes... Remember not being allowed to touch...Remember watching them through the incubator...unable to touch, unable to hold...just staring...Remember the first moment you saw them. Remember what you were wearing, what you were thinking, what you were crying. Remember the feeling of your entire soul screaming at the top of its lungs...Remember the agony. Remember believing you had killed them. Remember your weakness. Remember your vulnerability. Remember your fight. Remember being discharged from the hospital, getting in the car, and driving "home"...without. them. Remember the hysteria that dwelled in you every minute you were apart. Remember the exhaustion. Remember the sympathy...people are so sympathetic with tragedies...Remember. Remember.

Remember the first time you touched them. Remember the first moment you held them. Remember the apnea's and bradycardia's. Remember the bottle feedings. Remember the breast feedings. Remember the dark intestine on the X Rays. Remember them stopping all feedings. Remember them intubating her. Remember them extubating her. Remember them putting him in an "open air" crib. Remember the doctor, social worker, and nurses coming in to "talk to you". Remember screaming at God in the car on the way home. Remember begging Him, begging her, begging them to not let her die. Remember touching her for what could have been the last time. Remember that it was not the last time. Remember the first time you heard the word "mama". Remember the first laugh. Remember the first cry. Remember the first sickness. Remember him stopping breathing. Remember her turning blue. Remember begging God again. Remember everything working out fine.

Remember sitting in the hospital at their bedsides. Remember holding her all night long while she cried, "Mommy help me! Mommy help me!" Remember being helpless. Remember the bed time stories. Remember the kisses goodnight. Remember the arguments. Remember the battles. Remember the silliness. Remember them not going to bed. Remember them playing in the bath. Remember them playing in the toilet. Remember her falling asleep with the 85 lb chocolate lab "snuggling" her. Remember her, and her, and her, and you having the swine flu...trying to hold it all together. Remember him stopping breathing. Remember begging God...and him coming back to you. Remember. Remember.

You get through tragedies...one moment at a time. One second at a time. When in the midst of emotional agony...you have no idea how you will survive it, but you'll find that after many moments have gone by...you did. Only by the grace of God. You will get through this. And you'll look back three years from now, and wonder how the heck it all happened, and how you didn't end up insane.

mushy, gushy, sappy stuff. :)

I rolled over in bed and realized...he is home. It's strange how long it can take for the euphoria of reuniting to wear off. Sometimes it's two days, sometimes it's four weeks...who knows? It was weird. Last night I was grumpy, irritable...hormonal. I wasn't rude or mean, I just quite honestly didn't feel like cuddling. The elation of him being home had sort of worn off, and my feeling like it was necessary to cuddle all night long dissipated. Then this morning came. I woke up not being held. It struck me that I felt so cold. I rolled over and opened my eyes and there he was. Sleeping on his back, mouth open slightly, snuggled up under our comforter. His legs were on my side of the bed, because our chocolate lab was at the foot of his side of the bed.

I was struck by something that I think is so easy to forget when you have loved someone as long as I have loved him...he is beautiful. His touch is beautiful. His heart is beautiful. His mind is beautiful. His brain, his hands, his feet, his soul...they are all beautiful. He works so hard to lead this family the way that God wants him to. He listens to me, and cherishes my opinion. But he is also strong enough to tell me when I'm wrong. I cannot begin to tell you how important that is to me. I have a strong personality. I will walk all over you if I want to. I am smart, and quick with words, and I am quite capable of battling almost anyone with wits. I am not trying to put myself on a pedestal, just painting the picture of who this fella married. :) He knows how to tell me I'm wrong. It's funny because I have heard it said of him that he is a weak leader. I've heard people say that I run all over him and that I run this household, and he just happens to get to live here...as long as he doesn't make me angry. But no one really knows. Maybe it's because my husband comes across as weak. I don't know. Maybe it's because he projects an aspect of himself that doesn't feel like fighting. I kid you not...that man knows how to tell me what to do. He knows how to lay down the law. It's really sexy.

So many men think that women want an equal partner. Maybe some women do want that, however I just don't know very many that do. Almost every woman I know, doesn't want an EQUAL partner, they want EQUAL value. It's different. I don't want to be equally responsible for taking out the trash, or being in the military, or mowing the lawn, or a thousand other stereotypically gender assigned roles. I want to know that I have a man who is strong, intelligent and capable of managing our household. I want someone who fights for me. Who will fight with me. Who will tell me when I'm wrong. I don't want someone who kisses my ass all day long and tries to cater to my every whim. I want a man who will grab me, hold me, kiss me, and I can go to sleep knowing that he's got it all under control...and I can relax.

When I look at my husband I see the type of leader I wish all men could be. He is stronger than any man I have ever known. Any of you who read this, and might have happened to attempt to be in a relationship with me, can attest...I am a difficult woman to "manage."

My sister told me a long time ago I needed to find a man who was stronger than me. She told me I needed a man who was stronger than my strongest self. She said I needed someone more intelligent, more stubborn, more driven, more in charge, so that I could relax and let them lead. I remember when she told me that (she was referring to a boy I was dating at the time, and how he was none of those things...she was right, and we did break up) I thought she was dead wrong. I thought, I don't need or want that. What is strange is that I actually ended up marrying that. Well, almost entirely that. He is definitely more stubborn than I am (yes, I am dead serious. I said, MORE). He is also stronger than me.

I digress. I do that a lot. I am often distracted by my thoughts... It struck me this morning that he is really home. It was a beautiful moment. This morning I just jumped on him. Okay, not how you think, dirty minds...I just grabbed him, and I held on tight. He asked me what was wrong. I told him that nothing was. I just needed to hold him. I am so thankful that he is here. I am thankful that I can hold him in the morning. I am thankful that he isn't missing from the family moments. I'm thankful for him being my partner, my best friend, my confidant, my challenger, my leader. I am thankful that Iraq didn't take him away from me forever. I admire him. I admire his strength. I admire his ability to lead me, like no other man has ever been capable of doing. I admire his intelligence. I admire his softness. I admire his compassion. He takes my breath away. He really does.

Tantrums, groceries, and Cesar... :)

I had my first child temper tantrum today at the grocery store. Yes, I said FIRST. I have a five year old and three, three year olds and today was the first tantrum I ever dealt with in the store. My son decided he wanted to see if I had balls...So, he looked me square in the eye and decided to test my patience with a bunch of people looking on. I kid you not, it was like a square off in a western. Somewhere in the background, there was that whistle sound going off and a tumbleweed blowing by. He was on one end, and me on the other...who was going to draw and shoot first, and who was going to win the the battle? My son has yet to recognize, I am no punk. When you take on big mama, you lose. It's that simple.

I told him to hold on to the cart, so we could keep moving. You see, one of my rules while grocery shopping with the kids is that they all have to hold the cart while we walk. My son says: "No." I said, "Hold on to the cart." He said, "NO!" I said, "Okay, goodbye!" I literally walked five inches away (kid you not, one step), and he starts screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs... "I DO NOT WANT TO HOLD THE CART!"

Now, other mom's might have been embarrassed, or they might have ignored the kid, or spanked them, or yelled at them, or a thousand other responses, but I have to admit...I laughed. I had to hide my face, because I was laughing so hard. Sometimes it is quite funny to see the things that toddlers will choose to do battle over. When I had finally gained my composure, he was still screaming on the floor. I walked up to him and said quite plainly, "You hold this cart, now. We are all waiting for you to decide to behave." The trick is...you have to whisper it. Little kids are curious about what you're saying and the quieter that you talk, the more eager they are to hear it. It's almost like on some level of their brains they're wondering if you're promising them candy or a treat or something, and they don't want to miss out. He went dead silent, but didn't budge. "I said, now." Then began the stare off. I have learned this trick from Cesar Milan in regards to dealing with naughty dogs (I am not calling my son a dog, but it is however quite successful with little children), stare them down. Don't glare, don't be angry or aggressive, simply look at them with a calm submissive look. Provide calm energy. So that's what I did. You could see him starting to shift in place, and look all awkward. And then...it happened. He relented, grabbed the cart and we went on our way.

In a nutshell, I survived my first tantrum. Whew! Someone should give me a drink! ;)

The little black dress

When I was seventeen, my mom took me to Macy's and bought me a very beautiful, and expensive, black dress. It was a gift to me for my eighteenth birthday. My whole childhood, my parents struggled financially and for my mom to have spent as much as she did on a dress that made me feel the way that one did, meant a lot to me.

This dress has become a dress of meaning in my life. It was the dress I wore to my surprise 18th birthday party. That night was the first night I felt deeply special, and very treasured. I still remember it like it was yesterday.

The dress was also the first dress I ever wore in front of a boy that deeply held my heart. Back when I went to Bethel College, a boy came all the way from Kansas to meet me. We had met on the phone some few months earlier. He took a bus all night long up to Minnesota just so that we could meet in person. I will never forget the moment that soldier knocked on my dorm room door, and walked forever in to my heart. I still remember what I was wearing (no it wasn't the dress), an orange turtleneck (that I still have, and was my mom's when she was young) blue jeans, and a brown jacket. Anyway, he came back before he deployed to the middle east for the first time. This was the first boy I ever deeply loved. It was instantaneous. Honestly! I told my girlfriends when I met him on the phone, that I met the man I was going to marry. They all laughed at me...but...who was right!? haha.

The first night that he came to visit me, before our first deployment goodbye, he wanted to go to a fancy restaurant. So I did my hair, and put on that dress. The impression it had on him has never left my mind...Never have I ever felt as beautiful as he made me feel that night. To him, I was drop. dead. gorgeous.

The dress has not fit me since that night. And I have never worn it for another man. Only him. Something inside of me has always prevented me from giving it away. It has traveled with me across the nation, through many moves. For the last three years, it has been sitting in the back of my closet amongst the items that will NEVER fit me again, but are sentimental.

You see, when I was pregnant with the triplets, my doctor told me I needed to gain 150lbs. I didn't quite gain that much, but I came close. I think I was around 139 ish or so...I kind of forget now. Anyway, I gained a lot. My body completely changed after the triplet pregnancy. I have so much loose and hanging skin...that it has been emotional for me to even look at myself in the mirror. Literally, it's an ugly site.

I have been working hard, in the last year to lose weight. After the triplets were born, I automatically lost 60 lbs. I came home from the hospital with that much less weight. But the roughly 70 pounds or so have still been around. I have gained some, lost some, gained some more. In the past year, I have lost almost 60 pounds.

Today, my husband asked me to try on that dress...the one I wore for him so many, many, many nights ago. I said, it's not going to fit me. He said, "I think it will". I said, it's not going to. It will upset me to try it on, so I'm not going to. But I have to admit, he had awakened my curiosity, so when he left the room...I got it out.

IT FIT! It fit me! I couldn't believe it! I walked out into the living room, where he was out, with it on. I leaned against one of our chairs and I went, "ahem!". He looked up at me from across our living area...and his eyes lit up. He said, "IT FITS! You look hot!" And then he started following me around the house just touching me in it (no...not inappropriately). He was telling the kids that this was the first dress he had ever seen me wear.

This sparked even more courage in me...I started trying on other significant dresses: best friend's bridesmaid dress (so big, didn't even need to zip to pull it up), second oldest sister's bridesmaid dress (too big), oldest sister's bridesmaid dress (too big, but could be altered), high school prom dress (it fit), high school dress I always liked (it fit), and on and on and on... they all either fit or were too big! I was shocked. I curled up in a ball on my closet floor and started crying. I never in my wildest dreams would've believed I would ever be able to wear any clothes from back in the day, after delivering triplets (and before having some sort of reconstructive surgery). Of course, they don't look like they looked back when I had a six pack, and I was all toned and fit...but with some girdle support...I think you wouldn't be able to notice at all the hanging skin... :)

So this dress...this black dress that is now almost ten years old is here yet again at a significant moment in my life. It's a beautiful day. :)