STOP CENSORSHIP

For Steve

2011-10-15T08:45:00.009-04:00

Ten days ago, I was incredibly wracked with grief over the passing of a man I've never known.

A notification popped up on my iPhone and my heart sunk. For just a moment, everything stopped. All the ambient sounds around me faded out into a quiet buzz as I read, "Apple says former CEO and founder Steve Jobs has died". I shouted to my husband who was downstairs in the family room playing Wii with our son. He paused the game after I told him the first time. "What?!?!?" he said. I repeated the news. He stood there for a moment, silent, while he absorbed the gravity of the words he had just heard.

This news came on the heels of Apple's unveiling of their new products and features, most notably the iPhone 4S. Around the technology community, the news of the 4S came as somewhat of a disappointment. Everyone had planned on heralding the reveal of the iPhone 5, but we didn't get the 5. We got the 4S. Even I felt disenchanted. After over two years with my iPhone 3Gs, I was ready to trade up to the almighty iPhone 5. I didn't want a 4S, I wanted a 5. I had spent my afternoon on October 4th watching several simultaneous liveblogs from the Apple event on my Macbook Pro in my kitchen while I cooked and cleaned, waiting with bated breath to see my new iPhone 5. I felt let down when there was no 5. The 4S was dazzling, a stunning revision of the phone that I've known and loved for two years and of course I wanted it...I just wished it were called a 5 instead. Despite my lack of love for the model name, I still knew that I'd be one of the many crazy people counting down the hours until midnight Pacific time on October 7th so I could snag one for both myself and one for Mr. Felicia. I was completely thrilled and overwhelmed with awe by the new option of a 64GB model. I reflected on my Facebook status that "My first computer had 64kB and took up a quarter of the desk in my childhood bedroom. My next phone will have 64GB and fit in my pocket. I know this makes me a complete nerd, but when I think about how far technology has come in my lifetime it brings tears to my eyes. It's just so damn cool."

I will confess: I am a nerd. I've been a nerd since I was a little girl. My first computer was a Commodore 64 that my parents bought me for Christmas. Well, I'm pretty sure that my Dad got that for me more than my mother. My Dad was and is still what they call now an "early adopter". He has always loved electronics and he enjoyed having the latest, greatest toys. My C64 had a cassette tape "drive" for memory, and Dad got me a TV that could be used as a monitor from Montgomery Ward. I wish I could show you a picture of me opening that gift. I was so was geeked out that I ugly-cried in my big, hideous, early 80's glasses. I spent hours on end for days sitting at my C64, plunking out tedious code just to see an animation of a ball bouncing across the screen for a few seconds. I adored that computer. As I learned more, I began to create my own little programs and I was incredibly proud of my programming. Those childhood frenzies of creation and errors, troubleshooting and testing made me feel inspired and brilliant and confident. By the time I got to high school, the computers at school were DOS-based PC's. In school, I learned how to do a little bit more programming in BASIC. That computer class felt like slipping on an old pair of Levi's. In my entire high school education, Miss Letourneau's computer class was my favorite and it was by far the one that came the easiest to me. In college, I helped pay for my tuition by working on campus in my school's computer lab. The machines in the computer lab ran on Windows 3.0. In the computer lab, I helped students and faculty with their computer questions ("Where is the any key?" "Why doesn't my keyboard have Roman numerals?") and tinkered with Windows. I've pretty much been a PC girl for the bulk of my geekery, but I have a bit of a confession to make: I never really loved Windows. The first time I saw it, I thought to myself "Basically, it makes a PC into a Macintosh" but I didn't say it out loud.

Throughout all of my schooling, my career after school, and into the current chapter of my life story as a stay at home mom, my nerdiness has served me well. I've adapted to and adopted new ideas, services, software and hardware. About six months ago, I ditched my trusty and clunky Dell laptop for a reliable and sexy, slick Macbook Pro. This thing is gorgeous. Without even realizing it, I had "switched" from PC to Mac. I didn't intend to switch teams. I had used a Mac sporadically when I worked for a print brokerage in my late 20's. I didn't think of using the Macbook as a change in loyalty, it was just a machine. I was fairly surprised when I noticed how much I loved the Macbook. I'm the girl who happily and quickly popped out of Windows to use the DOS shell for years. I'm the girl who used to sarcastically call Macs "Fisher Price Computers" because of their simplistically styled UI. And then I used and grew accustomed to that simple, clean, sleek, artistic, elegant UI and I fell hopelessly in love with it.

Ten days ago when Steve Jobs' passing was announced, the corner of my heart that's shaped like an apple cried. I credit Steve Jobs with bringing technology to the masses and making it beautiful. I credit him with revolutionizing the way people consume media content. Steve Jobs took a bookcase full of my CD's and put them in the palm of my hand. He gave me the ability to buy the one song that I really liked from other CD's for a dollar. (I refuse to admit, to myself or to anyone else, how much money I've spent on music via iTunes.) I'm pretty sure that Amazon looked at the iPod and iTunes and thought, "You know, I think we could do that to books too!" and thus, the Kindle was born. Steve Jobs: architect of the intuitive interface, father of innovation, genius.

As a person with half decent geek street cred, the imagination, inspiration, and innovation that Jobs brought to the world floods my heart with both awe and reverence. The emotional rollercoaster of the first week of October 2011 came full circle for me late last night as I experienced and explored the physical details, abilities, speed, and breathtaking beauty of my new iPhone 4S, which I dubbed Koko B. HardWare. I dressed him in a glittery aubergine suit fitting of the flair and showmanship of the WWF star he was named after. The sheer volume his 64GB of capacity awed me. His features and capabilities were even more amazing and overwhelming than they were via conference liveblog. I gazed down at this incredible feat of technology, design and development in the palm of my hand and the reality hit me as tears filled my eyes: the object that I held was Steve's swan song. It was the very last unimagined by the public but suddenly desired and instantly indispensable innovation that Mr. Jobs would ever create for the world. It was then that I recognized that it is quite fitting and not at all a disappointment that this permutation of the iPhone was not named 5. This iPhone is the 4S: For Steve.

Coming out of the closet...

2011-08-09T20:35:00.015-04:00

For some of my friends what I'm going to tell you isn't going to come as a big surprise, because I've already talked about some of my thoughts and doubts and conclusions with you. I'd like to take a moment to thank those treasured and trusted friends for listening, for understanding and for encouraging me along the way. I am truly blessed to have friends with whom I can be totally honest and vulnerable, without fear. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me the liberty of being where I'm at without your judgement. M, B and E...I am so grateful to have you with me on my journey.

_____________________________

What up, blogiverse. Is that even a word? It is now, I just said it. Or typed it. Whatever.

I've been quiet for a long time, I know. I've been thinking. I've had A LOT to think about. I wish I knew what the catalyst was behind all of the stuff I've been working out in my mind. Oh, and before we go any further...I know what you're thinking this post is going to be about given the title, and before I say anything else I want to tell you that I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'm totally not gay. That said, I've been trying to figure out how to publicly "come out" with the many things that I've been thinking and a big part of me is bracing for massive rejection.

*deep breath*

I've come to the conclusion that I need to be okay with being rejected by some in order to be authentic. (This is still sounding like a gay coming out talk, isn't it?) I know I stand to lose some friends if I say this publicly. And I know that some of my friends won't just dismiss me, they'll do worse. They'll judge me, label me and condemn me, then they'll tell me that they'll pray for me because I'm so "lost".

So, I would like to assure you:

I am SO NOT lost.

I have NEVER been MORE found.

I do not seek to belittle what has been revealed to you as truth, so please offer me that same respect. If you want to pray for me, that's fine. Just do it as Jesus taught, and I'll even drop some KJV on you out of deference to your preference: "And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." (Matthew 6:5-6)

So, the thing is...I'm a...Universalist.

There, I said it. Now you know. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. And hide yo husband cuz god's savin errbody out there. You don't have to come and confess, he's looking for you. He gon' find you. So you can run and tell that, homeboy. (Did I just throw down some King James Version of the Bible and Antoine Dodson? Why yes, yes I did. I'm gangsta like that.)

How did I get here? Well, I was created as a logical and spiritual being. (Just like you.) As my faith has evolved since I liberated myself from the indoctrination of my childhood and allowed myself to understand and define my own theology, I landed here.

I landed here because a god of infinite love and grace cannot logically coexist with a god of judgement and punitive discipline.

I landed here because I cannot get on board with a theology that would condemn my non-Christian friends (including the atheists, humanists and agnostics) for not saying a magic prayer when they are some of the most moral, generous, kind and genuine people I know. They are more "Christlike" than most Christians I know. If Jesus came to show us the way, and they are actually living in that way even if they don't label it as following Jesus, aren't they still actually following Christ? And if they are, would that all loving god who craves communion with his creation really choose to send them to an actual lake of fire on a technicality?

I landed here because a god who creates all people, and loves all those people, can't logically just send them out on their way with a silent kitchen timer in the background...tick tock, tick tock...and god knows whether or not each person will accept or reject before their time is up. But god sends these people out into the world already knowing what they'll choose and god allows these people to make the choice that leads to eternal damnation? That is the opposite of grace as I understand it. That is, essentially, predestined damnation. No, no, no.

I landed here because the god that I know and love and serve today is not a bully. God is love, and love just doesn't do that. Like I said, I was created as a spiritual and logical being. So my faith has to speak to my heart, AND make sense at the same time.

I still feel called to minister. I believe that I have been called to encourage others to work out their own faith as I have and will continue to do. I know in my core that I was put here to do that. I'm still learning and I'm still exploring the breadth and depth that faith has for me. I hope to do that for the rest of my life. This journey of inspiration and revelation has been challenging. But I WANT my faith to continually challenge me - what good is a faith that doesn't?

I said to one of my friends via email back in June, "My faith was so much simpler when I believed what I was told without question and I really believed I had all the answers. That chair was so comfortable to sit in for so long. Then my foot fell asleep from sitting in that chair for so long that I had to get up and walk around. Now I've seen too much while I was walking around to ever sit down in that chair again. But sometimes I miss that chair. It was comfortable, familiar, safe. What I am going through now is so much harder than sitting in that chair. The realization that I will probably not have a chair ever again is overwhelming. I feel like the best I can hope for is to cobble together a mismatched sectional that somehow works together and fits me.

But I bet that's gonna be the best damn sofa ever."

So, Friends...that's my deal. And as I raise my glass to you, I offer a toast:

Here's to authenticity, even when it's difficult.

Here's to working out our own faith.

Here's to truth.

Setting.

You.

Free.

On parenting, discipline, faith and forgiveness - how I got to show my son the nature of God while revealing it to myself too.

2011-03-27T16:43:00.010-04:00

On Friday we had some of Moose's little friends over for lunch and a playdate after preschool. I was upstairs preparing lunch so I didn't witness the incident, but my friend was downstairs in the playroom with the children. And when I called everyone upstairs for lunch, Moose chucked a pretty decent sized toy at his friend's head and hurt his friend pretty bad. All I heard was a crack and his little friend crying, then Moose trying to flee the scene. When I heard it I made my way downstairs and asked Moose what happened and he kept saying, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" but in that way that you can tell a person doesn't mean it, they're just saying what they think is appropriate to say. Like when someone asks "How are you?" but they really don't care how you are, it's just the socially appropriate phrase to initiate small talk so you can have the illusion of a social interaction without any real substance. While he was being fake-sorry I asked my friend if her son was okay, and what happened. When she told me what happened I was so embarrassed and really frustrated with Moose. I mean, what in the world??? He knows better! And his poor little friend is only TWO years old and he's chucking big, heavy toys at his face?!?! My son looked up at me and I told him, "That was a very mean thing to do. We don't throw toys and we don't hurt our friends. You're grounded from your Leapster." And I looked down at Moose and I said "Look how your friend feels. What should you do?" and once my boy's eyes really SAW the results of his actions he paused and genuinely apologized to his little injured playmate. Moose's attempt at an apology hug was refused as his friend was too much in pain to leave his mother. We all came upstairs and had lunch and then everyone played together nicely after lunch until our friends went home.

Later that afternoon, Moose asked if he could play his Leapster. And I told him no, because he was grounded from it and I asked him if he remembered what he did earlier. He said "Yes" as fresh tears rose in his eyes. And he looked at me as he blinked and the tears rolled down his fat little cheeks and he said, "But Mama, I sorry." And for a second, I thought about how he would perceive me as his parent if I backed down from his punishment. Would I be flaking out on him as his mom if I was inconsistent? Would he lose respect for my words and decisions if I didn't enforce his punishment?

And then I realized that if I did enforce his punishment, I would be doing exactly to him what I am so grateful that God doesn't do to me. I would be withholding forgiveness even after his confession and expression of contrition.

Is there room for Forgiveness in Discipline? I certainly hope so. If there wasn't, there would be no hope for me, or for any of us for that matter! That's when I decided that I would seize this moment to show Moose what forgiveness is all about. I had an opportunity to show my son a tiny little peek of the kind of forgiveness and redemption that God offers to all of us.

Moose was so sad remembering what he'd done earlier that day. He laid his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my neck and quietly whimpered, "I'm so sorry Mama. I'm so sorry." I answered, "I know. You don't have to be be grounded anymore because I know you really are sorry and you will try to do better next time." My son flicked his head up towards me with a look of total disbelief across his face. The kid looked like he won some kind of lottery or something but his expression quickly clouded over as his relief faded into a look of worry. He said, "You not tell Daddy, okay? You please not tell Daddy I hurt my friend." I said, "Daddy already knows, but I'll tell Daddy you're not grounded anymore."

Moose said, "I not grounded anymore?" as the sun started rising in his eyes, the burden of his punishment lifted. I said, "Nope. You don't have to be grounded anymore. Do you want to play on your Leapster?"

And my son said, "No."

He added, "I just wanna hug you now."

And that's the story of the day I learned that:

A child can learn more from forgiveness than he can from punishment.
So can I.

Preschool: The Next Frontier

2011-02-16T09:27:00.007-05:00

I just dropped Moose off at school for the first time, and I'm writing this from a Starbucks about a mile and a half away.

I am entirely too far away from my baby.

Except he's not a baby.

He's a boy, a fully grown boy, and he's taken over my baby like some kind of evil pod person from outer space, inhabiting the body where my baby used to be.

This suuuuuuuuuuucks!

But here's the thing that is messing with my head more than leaving my son in the care of someone else on a regular basis: I didn't cry.

Now if you know me, you know that I openly claim crying as my "superpower". I am a crier. It used to bug the hell out of my parents and they tried to get me to not cry so much as an emotional outlet when I was little. Of course, that only made me cry more. It wasn't until I journeyed through therapy as a young adult that I claimed my ability to be quickly moved to tears as a gift. I have the gift of a tender, sensitive heart. I love big and I feel deep emotions. As a result I am usually attuned to the emotional needs of those close to me. Coming to that realization made me a little resentful of all the times my folks tried to hush my crying when I was little. Instead of nurturing my sensitive heart and bringing out the best in my natural tendencies, they tried to squash them. That experience was a hurdle for me to overcome, all those years of being invalidated only to find that not only could I use my superpower of crying for good but also it was nothing to be ashamed of.

So anyways, I am quick to cry. Except not this morning. Even as I've traced over and over the morning: putting his things in his new cubby, showing him where to hang his backpack and coat, saying goodbye as he pretty much ignored me because he was playing with the other kids, watching him through the window as I walked away...I still haven't been able to muster up a tear. It's not that I don't care. I'm excited for him to transition into this next stage in life. I miss him. It is very weird to be somewhere without him. I feel very confident in our choice of preschool for him and I feel very comfortable that his sweet spirit will be nurtured and respected there.

I still feel like the Worst Mother In The World for not crying. All of my Mommy Sensibilities tell me that I should be crying. I can't recall how many people told me to bring tissues today...like, everybody! But...nothin'. I don't feel like "Woo hoo! I'm FREE!" but I also don't feel like "WAAAAAAH, MY BABY, MY BABY!!!!" which I kind of thought I would. Or maybe I just thought that's how I was supposed to feel. But it wouldn't be the first time I haven't done or felt the things I thought I was "supposed to" in life. Still, I can't shake the nagging feeling inside that maybe I'm failing by not being conventional. But let's be honest: conventional is soooooo boring. I guess that in addition to the superpower of crying, I also rock the superpower of unconventionality.

What, my hair didn't tip you off?

There's a possibility/the dogs days are over.

2011-02-12T22:37:00.009-05:00

A year ago today, I was picking Mr. up from the airport. He flew home on a one-way ticket, BWI to MDW. He came to take me away from my hometown and all my family and friends, like some kind of Grim Reaper of happiness.

After the year we'd had previous to the move, I was full of insecurity and anxiety for the move. We arrived at our old house, where nearly everything we owned had been boxed up by me, my cousin Kim and my friend Chris. Everything was ready to be loaded into the moving truck. Only what we needed for the next few days was left out.

I felt like my life was falling apart.

I was walking away from everything I ever knew and loved for...for...for what, exactly??? For a blank slate that should have been pristine white, lit with sunlight and waiting for me to color all over it, but instead it was gray and cloudy and cold.

I will never forget putting my iPod on shuffle as I pulled away from the house after loading the trucks on the 14th and hearing the strains of the first song in the title to this post.

"There's a Possibility,
There's a Possibility,
All that I had was all I'm gonn' get. "

I cried as I pulled away. It felt like I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't "Jesus Take The Wheel" have played instead? (Because I don't own any country music.)

It was around June when I met one of the girls who I would learn is one of the most genuinely kind people in the world. I was just in the right place, at the right time and I met the right person. And Friend 1 introduced me to Friend 2, who is all kinds of awesome. And then several months later, I took friend 2 out to a random meetup one night, where we met Friend 3. (Meetup is where people like me, who want to meet people but are sick of being looked at funny for being friendly in the grocery store connect with other people online and then literally meet up in real life and hopefully the other online people aren't axe murderers.) Lucky for Friend 2 and myself, Friend 3 is anything but an axe murderer. Friend 3 is so sweet, I need extra insulin just to be around her.

And just like that, in a matter of less than six months, my empty social circle became full and better than anything I could have ever wished for.

I was thinking about that tonight, while I was out with Friend 2 and Friend 3, and their husbands, and their kids (we are fortunate to enjoy some kind of cosmic magic where our husbands all get along and our children all love each other) while we were all out for pizza together. And I felt like the Grinch, after he steals Christmas and then hears all the Whos in Whoville singing, because my heart was so full I thought it might explode. The only thing that could have possibly made the moment better was if we were eating Lou Malnati's pizza.

Then the speakers in the pizza place played the second song in the title of this post.

"Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done..."

And that's the story of how nearly a year to the day after leaving everything I've ever loved behind, I've found the most incredible existence that I didn't even know - or believe - existed.

I am truly the luckiest girl in the world.

All because two people fell in love...

2010-12-26T19:18:00.003-05:00

I won't lie to you. I've spent the past year pretty much oscillating between hating my life and trying to make the best of what I had left. I've been depressed to the point where all it takes is a song on the radio or the sight of something that reminds me of my family and friends back home and I cry. We've found an "okay" church, but there's no place like HOPE. Our church community in Naperville set the bar pretty high for any church we would ever find in the future. I missed my family. The thing about my family is, we could go weeks or months without talking but if any of us needed anything we'd be there for each other. So even when things were smooth sailing, I always had the security of that safety net beneath me. Having that safety net of love that gives you a safe place to land is empowering and liberating. It means you can try more things and you never really fear rejection. Because even if they reject you, your safety net stands ready to catch you and clean you up and hold you until you're all right again. I've been out here all alone. I know that my whole support system was only a phone call, text or email away but that's just not the same thing as a hug, or a long talk over a cup of coffee. It's just not the same.

But gradually, it's gotten better. First I found a few really special people here. They are diamonds. They are truly some of the best people I've met in...forever. And I can't believe how lucky I was to just fall into knowing them. But with them, it's a little bit better. And then, I met the rest of my husband's family. Now, up until actually meeting them all I knew was what I was told by others about them. And some of it wasn't all that pretty. But we ran into each other online (Facebook rules) and chatted and they seemed cool, and then we met Mr.'s cousins and aunt. And wouldn't you know it, they were actually really good people. And I'm related to them. Who knew?

Yesterday, we hosted Christmas dinner for Mr.'s extended family. And it was perfect. It was fun and the food was good and the company was wonderful. I got to know them a little bit more and bond with them a little bit more too. It was one of my best Christmases ever. And as I stood in my kitchen finishing up cooking and getting ready to serve the meal, my brain did a little rewind of all the moments that led up to this moment...(insert montage of meeting and dating and getting engaged and getting married and having a baby and moving across the country here) and I couldn't help but feel very grateful for the journey.

At the end of the night, as folks were getting ready to go home we paused to take a big family picture in my living room. Or if you're from the Midwest, in my front room. If you're from Chicago, in my fronchroom. :) But the point is, we took a big, happy picture all together and all I could do was whisper a prayer of thanks for the gift of even more family to love. When I saw the picture after Mr. pulled it off his camera, one thing popped out at me: the phrase on the plaque on the wall behind us all (which is also the title of this post).

"I'll pray for you"

2010-11-24T10:59:00.001-05:00

This past Sunday, there was a small paragraph in the church bulletin that changed my life. No, really. Changed. My. Life.

It read:

Prayers of the People (inspired by a prayer of George Appleton)

"Hold a name lovingly, trustingly before God , without diagnosing the person's need, or telling God what to do, leaving God to do, what in love is most needed.

The name may be repeated many times, on the lips, on the mind, and then held silently in the heart.

If Christ's name is added after the name of the one for whom we are praying, God's love is invoked to magnify our own human love."

And I sat in my pew with a heavy heart, having very recently learned of a friend's pregnancy loss. I lowered my head and quietly repeated her name as tears of grief fell in sympathy for her family's pain. In the past I would have directly asked God for what *I* wanted for her...comfort, peace, healing, strength. But after reading that paragraph on intercessory prayer I was struck by how ridiculous it is for me to tell God what to do, how utterly foolish it is for me to think that I know what this person needs. I know nothing except that I love them and they need what only God can give. So I sat and quietly prayed my friend's name. I focused all of my thoughts and energy on her with each breath. And gently with every heartbeat, with every repetition, a silent transaction took place. My heart released all the sadness for my friend's hurt and replaced it with hope for her healing. As I emptied the pain that I didn't even have words for, it was taken up by a power much greater than my own.

This was a very meaningful touchpoint in my faith journey. I've prayed before and I've never sensed the same release of my burden into God's care the same way. It was enlightening.

So from now on if I tell you that I'll pray for you, there's a good chance that I won't be asking God to help you find a new job or heal you from your illness or whatever. I will simply enter a quiet space where I can focus all of my being on your name, breathing you in, breathing you out, placing you fully in God's care. Isn't that where you want to be anyways?

You've come a long way, Baby

2010-09-28T12:07:00.004-04:00

Today my son is four years old. I can hardly believe it.

As I went to sleep last night, I let my mind wander back to the days leading up to his birth. There was this day, where I was surprised to learn that my placenta was dying, and Jack needed to be born faster than I had anticipated. And then there was this day, where I started out exhausted and hungry and wanting to just give up. I honestly believe that if someone else had walked in and said "hey, I'll have that baby for you" on that day I would have been all "Okay! I'm going to go out for a walk and a bagel, you can have this pitocin!" But after that day, I got to have this day. I got to have this boy:

I know, right? SO worth it. Worth every 2 am finger stick, worth every minute of pitocin labor, worth every second of swollen feet and sore back. Completely and absolutely worth it.

The day he was born, all I knew was that I was exhausted and I was elated. He was perfect and pink. I had no idea about the amazing kid he would become. Jackson is sweet and smart. He is compassionate and caring. He would give a hungry person the last bite of his favorite sandwich. His smile lights up a room and his laughter make my heart jump for joy. He is the physical manifestation of all of my hopes and dreams of becoming a mother. He's one of the best gifts in life that God has ever given me.

There was no part of his birthday that went the way I wanted, the way I had planned. But that was an important lesson for me to learn early on in my mothering journey: it doesn't always have to perfect. I've grown from that day of self-loathing and bullying myself as a "failure" and come to realize that there is no single one right answer or way of parenting that will be right for everybody. That was a huge lesson for Little Miss Type A Personality. From the very beginning, nothing I had planned worked out the way I thought it would, and that gave me the freedom to make it up as I go along. My boy's botched birth story is the best way I could have started on my path of motherhood. Because life is not easy, it doesn't always end up the way you thought it would and success isn't a only reward for those who plan and execute, it's also the reward of those who are flexible and adapt. When I dreamt of being a mother, I thought when God made my dreams of being a mother come true that would be the thing I was most thankful for. Instead, when I became a mom I learned to cut myself some slack, to go with the flow and to improvise. I didn't know how to do that before I was a mom. I only knew how to succeed or fail in shame, there was no inbetween.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that becoming a mother gave me so many more important life lessons than just mothering. Becoming a mom changed me, and changed my life in ways I never expected but am forever thankful for. Sometimes I still can't believe that God let me be this kid's mom. Because this kid is amazing. He makes me a better person; I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. And if he can change my world that much in four short years, I can't wait to see what else he accomplishes in life.

Happy fourth birthday, Jackson Phoenix. I'm so thankful that I get to be your mama.

We will never forget

2010-09-11T20:46:00.005-04:00

September 11th. Nine eleven. 911. The date we will all never forget.

I don't think there's a single person who was school age and older who is alive today that has forgotten what they were doing, where they were, and how they felt that day nine years ago. It was all so surreal, like a terrible scene in a movie playing out before our eyes. But it was real. There were real people trapped and perishing. Real people missing, loved, searched for. They were fathers and mothers and sisters, daughters, sons. Families left heartbroken forever, all in an instant. It was unfathomable, the pain and confusion and anguish of that day.

But from that complete pain and unbearable loss arose something else, too. There was a surge of unity and brotherhood around the world, as people everywhere shared their grief over the day's great tragedy. On September 11th, we were not American or British or Irish or Russian or Chinese or Mexican or...Iraqi. We were all just "us", one devastated and broken tribe of people who were compassionate to all who had experienced loss, because we all felt deep pain that day. The worst spirit in the world brought out the best spirit in the rest of us. That's the memory that is the most vivid to me.

9/11 is something that my son will learn about in school one day. I'll probably share with him my recollection of my experiences when he's older. But I don't think I'll ever really be able to explain all of it. The sheer magnitude of the emotions of that day are overwhelming, and I don't think that any history textbook or story retelling can ever fully communicate the horror, the sadness, the grief...followed by the resolve, the strength, the international goodwill and united expression of love and compassion worldwide.

My wish is that we would never experience another day like 9/11, and that we could all treat each other every day as if it were 9/12.

Love Thursday: Redeeming

2010-08-26T16:31:00.006-04:00

Hi, my name is Felicia, and I'm a crazy coupon lady.

(Hi, Felicia)

In my never ending quest for the best deal on everything, I see this word frequently: Redeem. Redeem at face value. Redeem one per purchase. Redeem for $1.00 off any 3 boxes of General Mills cereal. So I redeem, redeem and redeem and I do so much redeeming that the word itself has begun to lose some of its shine. Some of its depth. Some of its je ne sais quoi. The other day while I was driving, I started to think about what redeeming means to me, when it comes to my walk with God. So when I got home I did what any modern girl would do, and Googled it. This is what Merriam-Webster has to say about what "redeem" means:

It was all the normal stuff I thought of when I thought of that word. "You are bought with a price" blah blah blah. Until I got to definition number 6, part b, section 2. "To make worthwhile."

I am not only bought, paid for, freed, changed and released. I have also been made worthwhile. Which would indicate that prior to my redemption, I wasn't worthwhile but God chose to redeem me anyways. He made me worthwhile, because of his grace, by the power of my faith and nothing else. To me, that is the single most powerful and amazing transaction to have ever taken place. He made me worthwhile. He offsets everything bad in me. That's awesome. That blows my mind. I love it so much.

Autobiography

2010-08-15T13:36:00.004-04:00

I recently volunteered to be an area group leader for the mothers' group that has been our lifeline here ever since we found them. I really hadn't planned on doing that, but they asked and I have the time and all the moms there have been so great to me and Moose that I felt like I needed to give a little back to the community. Y'all know I'm a huge sucka for community service anyhow.

Part of what I had to do to get started with my new volunteer position was write up a small bio on myself to be posted on the group's "Staff" page. I've never written out my own story before. I write out small parts of my story all the time here on my blog but I've never written out all of my own story before, or had to figure out how to condense a lifetime into two small paragraphs. I ended up writing about my family, my passions and my plans for my future. I left out a lot of my past simply because there wasn't room and it wasn't exactly relevant to the purpose of what I was writing. But I got to sit and give it some thought, and write my story.

And then after I clicked "send", I thought about how cool it is that each of us get to write our own story every single day. That thought is so inspiring and liberating to me. Every day, I get to choose my own adventure, like those books I read in grade school. Every day, I get to write and tell my own story, and so do you! It gave me pause to consider...what story am I writing, for my husband, for my son, for even my pets? For my friends, for my brothers, for everyone I love? Our "happily ever afters" are all a daily work in process, as we cultivate love, friendship, intimacy, passion and compassion in our lives. To me, it was a refreshing and encouraging challenge to think about the story I'm writing with my life. There's not one part of my story that I would go back and erase if I had the opportunity. And for that I say thank you to all my friends and family and people I love who have been a part of my story. It's all a part of who I am today, and I really dig that chick.

The sea speaks

2010-07-19T21:16:00.007-04:00

I spent some time out in the ocean today. I love the beach. I love any swimming-friendly body of water, actually. And while there is some shark, stingray and jellyfish-related debate as to whether the ocean truly is swimming-friendly, I took my chances and walked out into the salty waves this afternoon with Moose. I love the water, because in the water I am weightless and free. If you've ever seen the backside of my lap, you understand how valuable and precious I find that feeling of weightlessness. I can float and kick and frolic and I am bound only by my own will as to how far I can go.

As the tide rolled in, my son and I jumped the waves. Well, I should rephrase. We jumped some waves. Other waves overtook us, and we ended up blinking and sputtering. After he grew tired from being taken down too many times, I encouraged Moose to go play in the sand with Mr. I returned to the surf, wading out into the soothing waters to rinse sand off of me. Then I sat on the shore, watching each curl of sea roll in and wash over my feet. I toyed with the sand, marvelling at the shells and pebbles. There were so many of them. Several of them were perfect, and I stashed them in the palm of my hand. My feet found a bigger shell while digging my heels deep into the sand. There's nothing like an Ocean Pedicure to scrub the rough spots from your feet. I picked up the big, thick shell and traced the edges with my fingertip. This shell was broken, but the formerly jagged edges had been brushed smooth from years of the tide rolling in and rolling out, sloughing off the rough edges with each pass. Now the edges were smooth and soft, with an elegant finish that looked bound and not broken.

I thought I was seeking perfect, whole, decorative shells. So I tossed it back into the saline surf. Wave after wave rolled in, and the polished edge shell found its way into my hand again as if the power of the sea wished it to be there. So there I sat, with this beautifully broken shell in my hand, watching and listening to each wave roll and crash into the shore. I sat and I stared and I thought and I pondered and then I felt it in my core: I am this shell. We are all this shell. We are all floating deep and shallow on this journey of life. We get broken and chipped along the way, but the warm tides of love and grace in life wash over us and smooth our sharp edges away.

Before I arose, another shell floated into my lap. This one was thinner. The friction of sand and pebbles over the years had worn this shell so thin that it had no center. It was as if life had drilled a hole through its heart, and the shell was now a wide open circle, embracing each polishing that came to it. Eventually, it wouldn't even resemble its former self. How I want to be this shell. Broken and polished and smooth and open. Open to life. Open to challenges and difficulties and trials that open me further. Opening me to truth, to love, to others.

One thing I very much love about our denomination is their "God is still speaking" message. To know and love and serve a God who is not done and finished speaking to us is a special part of my walk of faith. Since God is not finished speaking to any of us, I treasure the opportunity to hear God's voice and see God's hand in small, everyday moments. As I sat there at the ocean's edge, I looked out into the majestic waves and saw the face of God. I saw God's hand as it pulled the waters in and out, smoothing and perfecting each part of every shell. And then I thought about me. And you. We are all millions of little pieces in God's universe, but God remains actively engaging with us each day. Polishing us. Working in us. Opening us. My prayer is that as I've shared these thoughts with you, that you are able to pause from your busyness for a moment to consider how God and life is breaking you to strengthen you. Roughing you up just to polish you down. My prayer is that we are all able to remain open to the beauty and wonder of a life filled with joys and pains and peace and trials, because the combination of all of these experiences are what develop our inner grace, allowing us to share it with others and opening us to experience God in our own way.

I rose and returned into the deep to rinse the sand from my body. The waves were stronger then, as they washed me they nearly rolled me down. As I went to join my boys with shells in my hand, my legs were weak. It felt as if they'd become spaghetti. I can only surmise that those are the results of looking deep into the face of God, finding your truth there, and going forth with that truth deep in your heart.

It was either that, or I had too much sun today.

Wax on, wax off

2010-07-19T10:36:00.001-04:00

I'm flying home to Maryland after a lovely week in Chicagoland.

Also, I'm crying a little bit.

I knew it would be such a happy time to see the folks that I love so much and miss so dearly. I failed to consider how difficult it would be to say goodbye to all of them all over again. It's less traumatic than when we moved, but still hardly easy. It still smarts. I've decided that this experience of going "home" to visit, then returning to where we live now is pretty similar to a bikini wax. It hurts, significantly. I'm assuming that as I continue to visit here and back in the future, it will hurt less with each subsequent visit. Last time I could have used something to bite down on, it hurt so bad. This time it hurts so much I'd like to scream, but since that kind of behavior is frowned upon when travelling commercially I'm writing about it instead of verbalizing my feelings.

As the sun is setting, we rise above the Windy City. The Chicago skyline that has always captivated my spirit brings a tear to my eye. The trip was great; the farewell makes me ache inside. I wonder if anyone else on this flight feels the same way.

Somewhere in the middle of this trip, Moose said he wanted to go home. And then it struck me. As strongly attached as my heart is to this city as home, it's not our home. Home is where my husband, dogs, and all my stuff is.

As thrilled as I was to go "home", I'm also very pleased to be going home.

Mommy vs. The Spider

2010-06-23T15:46:00.004-04:00

I am married for a few reasons:

Mr. Felicia is the best man I've ever met
I don't like taking out the trash
I need someone to kill the spiders

Mr. knows that part of his job as Husband includes killing the spiders. The other day, I called Mr. on the intercom function on our cordless phones.

Sidenote: I love the intercom function on our cordless phones. It really reduces my need to yell. If someone is in the basement family room, and I'm two floors up in the master bedroom, the person in the basement can't hear a thing. You can't even hear the doorbell if you're downstairs in the family room.

Sometimes when I call the basement, I put on my Phone Sex Lady voice and purr something silly at Mr. Then I ask him whatever I was calling him to ask. Monday morning, I walked into the master bathroom and saw this freaking, WINGED spider with a huge blood sucking beak that was about 3" across. Scared the piss out of me. Which is highly inconvenient, when you're all tra-la-la ing to the bathroom first thing in the morning and you have to pee anyways. So I see this giant freak bug and call Mr. on the intercom to come and rescue me. He took care of it and then I was free to begin my day. I don't know what that bug was, it looked like a dragonfly and daddy long legs mated and made this freak of nature killer spidersquito dragon monster. That's what I'm officially dubbing this creature. "Spidersquito dragon monster." Because if that beak didn't suck blood, it surely spit fire.

So today, I was all chilling on the sofa in the living room with Moose when I saw something out of the corner of my eye on the drapes. I saw this:

Now, you can't really tell from the picture because my iPhone doesn't zoom and it was kind of dark...but let me tell you, this thing was terrifying. It was about 4" across. I was so scared that I wanted to puke. I quickly evacuated the room of boy and dogs, and paced about trying to figure out a plan of attack. I didn't want to squish it on the drapes because that looked messy. And this looked like the kind of bug that would go "crunch" when you smash it, and if that happened I would throw up for sure. So I paced, and I took a picture, and I texted it to my husband saying "WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, SPIDER SLAYER?!?!?" and I uploaded a picture to Facebook because I'm a total oversharer. And then I paced and worried and freaked out and Moose asked if he could come in and I told no because there is a VERY SCARY MONSTER SPIDER that Mommy has to kill. And then he freaked out and ran downstairs to hide in the family room with the dogs. He is his mother's son.

I don't know if you can see it from this picture, but this spider is a freak of nature. It had long, red FANGS. I just know the fangs were red because they were dripping with BLOOD. And it had this evil sounding breathing sounds...like Darth Vader, but more evil. And I swear to God it made eye contact with me and actually rubbed its front legs together, as if to say "Ha ha. And now I see my prey. I shall EAT YOU, silly woman with pink hair. YOU LOOK DELICIOUS." I actually heard him say that, "You look delicious." And while I may be a tasty morsel, there's no way in HELL I was going out this way. Oh, no. I will NOT be a headline in the Baltimore Sun in the morning, "Area Woman Dies After Spider Attack".*

So after deciding I did not want to smoosh the giant mutant spider, I thought maybe I'd vacuum it up. But I was worried about that because:

My Dyson is my preciousssss and I didn't want spider guts stuck in it
What if the vacuum doesn't actually kill the spider, but just maims it and then it can crawl out and seek vengeance on me?
Have you ever tried vacuuming a sheer curtain with a super suction powered tool like a Dyson? C'est impossible!

At first, I approached Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet with some paper towels. And a small box. My game plan was that I could scoot him down off the curtain into the box and take him outside. Very gentle, very zen. Catch and release to nature where Mr. Spider could be free! But then I chickened out and plugged in Tyson the Mighty Dyson. I aimed my long telescoping wand towards the curtains. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet simply scooted up the curtain. And that's when the screaming started. It was half fear and half Braveheart as I screamed at the spider. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet might have screamed too. At least he should have, because at this point he knew it was on like Donkey Kong, yo. The spider crept up the curtain and I screamed more and chased him. Then he got trapped in the folds of the curtains, so I shut the Dyson off. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet recovered, and started climbing down the curtains, so I resumed trying to suck him up, and screaming like a terrified Braveheart. Then I realized there was a small chance that Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet could fall OFF of the curtain and into MY GAPING, SCREAMING MAW, so I started screaming with my lips closed. This is hard to do, have you ever tried doing that? So I was yelling like "MMMMMMMWWWWWAHHHHHHHHUHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" with my lips shut while I vacuumed at him. It wasn't an even match. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet didn't have a prayer against the Dyson. After it was done, I put that paper towel that I brought out earlier on top of the Dyson hose to maximize the suction into the canister and let it run a few minutes until I saw something big and black, with a flash of his red fangs swirling up at me. That spider better stay in there.

I hope Mr. comes home soon to take care of cleaning out the Dyson canister, and I pray I am never a widow so I don't have to deal with spiders ever again by myself! I'm also wondering how much I value having a pesticide-free home, since this is the second spiderrific freak of nature I've seen in a week. My racing heart is finally slowing down, and I'll admit it - I do feel a little badass after taking care of him. I hope his arachnicide sends a strong message to any other mutant spider brethren that this house is NOT one to mess with. WE WILL fight back, and we will win. I don't take kindly to 8 legged creatures around these parts!

Update: Mr. Felicia came home from work and emptied the Dyson outside. He found Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet alive and well inside, so he was set free. After all that drama, we have a very peaceful ending as Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet and I go our separate ways. Hurrah!

*None of this paragraph is true, except the part about me not wanting to die by spider.

Pro Tip: How not to be my friend

2010-06-21T12:23:00.005-04:00

I don't take friendship lightly. To me, my friends are an extension of my family. They are the family that I choose. I have some new friends, but the majority of my friends are people I've considered to be friends for most of my life. Among the friends that I hold dear are people that I've loved for 5, 10, 20 or 30 years. Some of my friends are ex boyfriends. I loved them once and I still love them, albeit in a very different way. But the point is, my friends all own real estate holdings in my heart, and it is not in my nature to serve anyone an eviction notice. I don't throw friends away.

I did have to, however, disengage myself from a relationship recently. It was a sad occurrence, and a rarity in my life. I am not the type of person who will grow close and attached to you, and then find some silly and small reason to dismiss everything about you that had been so precious to me. I don't treat my relationships flippantly. This friend that I had to distance myself from broke every rule in my friendship rules book, so I had to let her go. So I'm writing this primer for you, dear friends, so you don't make the same mistakes she did. So, without further ado here are The Rules:

Do's

1) Be honest. I will always be honest with you, even if it is difficult for me to say and harder for you to hear. Because a true friend loves you that much, and will go through that kind of emotional distress that is painful, but makes you better.

2) Be generous. Darling, it's not all about you. Friendship is a two way street of give and take.

3) Be funny, with the ability to be deep. There are few things in life that I enjoy more than a good joke. At the same time, there are some real, big struggles and issues in life that we will have the opportunity to traverse together. Be able and ready to go there with me. I might need you, or you might need me.

4) Love others as much as you love yourself. I have a big, generous, giving heart. Don't take advantage. Be able to give as much as you get.

5) Be yourself. I'm the type of person who thrives on diversity and loves meeting new people and learning about our differences in history and opinion. There's something wonderful that I love about challenging myself and what I think. I love to grow and learn and expand my horizons after being exposed to new thoughts and ideas. We may both be diamonds in the rough, but at each others' sides we can polish and perfect each other and become better people together.

Which leads me to the don'ts:

1) Don't make up some some incredibly traumatic and sad attention whore stories in an effort to make me feel piteous empathy for you. When I tell you I was molested at a young age, don't say "me too!" When I share with you how I struggled with having diabetes in my youth and trying to hide it from everybody I knew because I was ashamed to be different, don't say "me too!" It's not called trying to bond with me if it's lying. Of course, if these things are true you go on right ahead and share your experiences with me. Be genuine and true to me, because I will always be the same to you.

2) Don't stay up until 2 am with me, discussing at length your crisis of faith because you were one faith on one side of the family and something completely different on the other when none of it is true. Dude, I take my theology seriously. God is not something to be trifled with. I mean, really. Don't even try to defend this. This disgusts me.

3) Don't make up some grandiose background story about all of your amazing professional accomplishments you had before you had children. First of all, nobody like a braggart so this kind of I'm-so-awesomeism is not going to endear yourself to me. Secondly, you made all of this up. You don't have to be a former social services attorney to get me to like you. You just have to be you.

4) Be never too busy to call back. There are few things more irritating to me than someone who can't be troubled to return a call, email or text message. Once or twice is no big deal, everyone slips. Also, don't make a habit of cancelling or rescheduling plans at the last minute. My time and my schedule is important too! When I find that you are actually Queen of the Flakes and this is your regular behavior pattern, that makes me want to tell you to go plow. Because you're just rude.

5) If a problem or conflict arises in our relationship, woman up and deal with it. Don't stick your head in the sand and wish it would go away. Because it won't. I'll just lose respect for you and view you as someone with such a lack of maturity and life skills that you can't even face me, your friend, and discuss real life problems in a civil manner. Don't send someone else to do your dirty work for you. Don't send in your husband or other friend as a makeshift mediator. Oh no, honey. This is between me and you and I'm not playing telephone with other people to try to get my point across. You're a grown up. Now act like it.

I know I'm not perfect. But I do try, I try very hard to be a good person, a good wife, a good mother and a good friend. I might mess up. I won't get it right every time. But I will try, and I will always be honest and generous and kind and good to you as best as I know how. All I ask is the same in return. In this great journey of life, you're going to need some good friends. I can be one of yours, if you can master these 10 simple and easy rules.

Love Thursday: July

2010-06-17T15:56:00.004-04:00

I'm going home. For six glorious days next month, Moose and I will be out at my friends Chris and Justin's new home (their first!). I can't wait to do so many things, like:

See Chris and Justin's adorable baby girl, who has gotten so huge since I've been gone
Get hotdogs at Portillo's. There are no good hot dogs here. They GRILL them here. And put ketchup on them. (Mon horreur!)
Visit my old church, and take Moose to see Timif and Petor, who he talks about all the time and misses as much as I do (maybe more)
Eat deep dish pizza, drowning in cheese for maximum artery-clogging goodness
Maybe see my cousins, especially Tracy who will have a new baby by then
Go back to Portillo's or maybe Al's for an Italian beef. Dipped. Oh, goodness I'm drooling...

I just can't wait. It's going to be like waiting for Christmas. I can see the skyline already, as we descend into the city. We'll be arriving at night. I can already see the lights, and it's beautiful. Home. Oh, home. I miss you.

And when when we get back here to the Land of Mary, we'll have two days to do laundry and then we pack it all up again to head to the beach house for a week.

Then, before I know it, July will be over and it will be August and I will have survived one more long month since leaving everyone I've ever known behind in the Land of Lincoln. July is gonna be a cakewalk for me! Oh boy, do I ever love July*.

And then all I have to do is make it through August and most of September, and then it will be time for our Annual Big Vacation. We're going out to California to visit Disneyland and see my friend Michelle for her biiiiiiig birthday fiesta celebration. Moose is gonna be such a well-seasoned traveler by the end of the year. I even signed him up for his own frequent flyer number. I figured I gotta buy him a ticket so he might as well earn the points, right?

* And I love Mr. Felicia too, for being awesome and working hard so we can afford all these fun travel opportunities. And for being all "yeah I can survive just fine for a whole week without you" when I know he will be cryin' himself to sleep on his huge pilla every night without me, and won't know what to eat because I'm not around to feed him, and will probably forget to take his vitamins every day because I'm not there to put them in his hand. He's sweet. And generous. And compassionate about how much I miss my friends and my cousins and my hometown. When I proposed being gone for a week while he stays behind to work, he was all "Sure, baby. Go home for a week without me. That's way better than the bottle of wine you drink every night by yourself because you're sad and lonely. Airfare is cheaper than rehab." Well, he didn't actually say that, but I'm pretty sure he thought it. *shame* Anyways, I'm so excited that I'm actually going to fix him a nice dinner tonight to say thanks! I'm not such a prissy prissy princess that I'd ask for plane tickets AND dinner out all in the same day**.

**He can take me to dinner tomorrow.

Special Edition - Love Tuesday!

2010-06-15T21:47:00.003-04:00

Today, I love this so much I can't wait until Thursday to tell ya about it!

Behold, the chic and classic case of the Chanel lipstick, but in an ultra moisturizing, incredibly pigmented version that is so fantastical I think I might marry it...it is the Rouge Coco:
Oooh. Pretty.

And what color do you want? You want Mademoiselle. It's this gorgeous, tawny rose that will look good on you. How do I know it will look good on you? Well, do you have lips? Yes? Then it will look good on you. A universally flattering perfect lipstick like this only comes along every 10 years or so...I kid you not. Rouge Coco in Mademoiselle is selling out, like, everywhere. So get out there and getcha one. This lipstick made me die of happies today. Seriously, you MUST have this. Don't make me tell you twice.

Come to the table

2010-05-26T15:03:00.002-04:00

One of the perks of moving is getting a whole new house to decorate and arrange. Of course, this is only a perk if you like doing that sort of thing and I do so WHEE!

When we moved, Mr. rented a truck that was far too small to fit all of our junk in it. So we ended up abandoning stuff at the curb at our old place, and 6 of the things we left behind were our dining room chairs. So now I have this gorgeous, solid oak dining room table and NO chairs. Oh joy. I refuse to admit how many dinners we've had on the sofa on trays in front of the TV, or Japanese style, on the floor over small side tables (okay, all of them). I've been shopping for chairs everywhere, looking for ones that would match the table just right and feel useable to us. Our old chairs were oak with ivory upholstery, clearly purchased by Mr. before me, before Moose, before dogs, etc. That ivory wasn't going to hold up to a house full of messy family, they were Bachelor dining chairs. So I was okay with saying goodbye to them. But I have looked and looked for chairs that would go with the table and I am coming up dry. And then I had this novel idea...what if I get chairs that DON'T match? I mean, because they're not gonna unless I spend an arm and a leg and we are a young family with a small child and hopefully more small children some day so we aren't in the Nice Furniture Stage of life, we're in the IKEA low end and garage sale furniture stage of life so I don't cry when something gets ruined. (Because it WILL.)

So once I made peace with the idea of chairs that don't match, my brain took it one step further. I want chairs that don't match EACH OTHER. I want all different chairs, all different colors and styles, all gathered around the table. And they will somehow all work together, they will just go together and complement each other because they're a set now. And I LOVE this idea of a variety of different chairs, all gathered around the table in my home because it's so symbolic to me. Each person in our little family is so different and unique, and each guest who comes to my table is too. Yet we all gather together in life and make it work. For me, it's not just a table. It's a small representation of the world at large, with all of its glorious differences and personalities and beliefs, everything spinning in delicate balance in a global ballet of life.

I love it so much. Now I have to hit some estate and garage sales and find my rainbow coalition of chairs. The perfect "set" of chairs is out there, I just have to find them.

Homesick

2010-05-03T22:05:00.003-04:00

I have been feeling horribly depressed. I can't remember the last time I was this homesick...college, maybe. But at least in college I could look forward to Thanksgiving/Christmas Break and tick off the days on the calendar until I could go back to the place where I felt like I belonged.

There's nothing worse than feeling that you don't belong in your own home. That's where I'm at right now. I long for home, but I look around and I am home but I feel like a misfit because there's nowhere here that I belong. When taking Mr. to work, I turn onto the road and I see the sign that says go this way for Washington or that way for Baltimore and it feels like an out of body experience. Really? Those are my choices? Which way do I go to go home? Oh wait, I am home. Dammit.

What really messes me up in the head (one thing among many, let's be honest) is that I can't even begin to cozy up to this place as my home because we won't stay here forever. The long term plan remains for me to go back to school after Mr. does his time in this job. This place will never be home.

And then I saw this today, out of state plates, from Illinois, parked outside the mall in Columbia, Maryland, and it reminded me of something important:

There's a story, of course. There's always a story. When I was in high school, my friend introduced me to her wonderful, sweet aunt and uncle. Uncle Bob was her youth pastor at her church, and I was lucky enough to spend some time with them. Uncle Bob was one of the most genuine Christ followers I've ever met. His influence meant so much to me over the years. Anyways, Bob had a car with custom plates, just like the ones in the picture. JUST LIKE them. And I read it one day and asked Crystal why her uncle's plate said "farm god". I was laughed at, and then was told it meant "from God" because everything Bob and Robbi had was from God.

Everything I have is from God.

Even this ache inside for home.

Even these tears that fall because I miss my friends, and I don't feel like I belong here, and I don't understand why I have to hurt so bad right now. Everything I have is from God.

Love Thursday - Lovely Ladies Edition

2010-04-29T14:34:00.002-04:00

Oh, how I adore some of the new toys I've picked up at Sephora recently. And I found the greatest kit for the makeup handicapped (ahem, you know you who are) that will add some boom boom to their pow. So let's get on with it, shall we?

1) Bare Escentuals BareMinerals SPF 15 Matte Foundation
Oh. My. God, Becky. If you thought BE mineral foundation was okay, but didn't like how it made you all disco ball shiny, you MUST check this out. I mean, you just have to. Really, it's mandatory. Do not pass "go", do not collect $200, do not go directly to jail, and RUN, do not walk to Sephora or Ulta and get yourself a sample of this. The samples even come with a darling little kabuki brush. But that's besides the point. The point is, this is fantastic. The coverage is a light to medium buildable coverage. That means you buff it on sparingly for an everyday touch of "she looks nice!" to building it a little heavier for "holy crap, her skin is perfect!" It makes large pores and pesky freckles absolutely disappear. Get ready to have the most perfect complexion of YOUR LIFE. I'm not even kidding. And the new slide and click jar? Brilliant! No more powder all over your vanity or sink. I'm so in love with this, I might marry it. Don't tell Tim. He can't make my Grand Canyon nose pores look this good, can you blame me?

2) Bare Escentuals Buxom Big & Healthy Lip Stick in "Amsterdam"
When I was pregnant with Moose, I was on the hunt for my perfect matte nude lipstick. It was like my mission in life (aside from having a healthy baby). As it turns out, with my coloring my perfect nude was a slightly pinked nude. I found it in MAC's "Kinda Sexy" lipstick and it's been my go-to color almost every day. This is very similar to that color in shade (don't ask me why Sephora says it's a "deep raspberry" that's a lie) and finish (a sexy matte without being dry or drying) but it's a plumper too. Gahhhhh. Lipstickgasm! I LOVE lip plumper products. This has the kick of their Buxom formula with the perfectly neutral and pretty shade that I love. I have died and gone to lipstick heaven. I already own two. Getcha one.

3) tokidoki Brillante Glitter Eyeliner
If you know nothing about me, know this: I love me some glitter. I know, I'm like, 12. I have pink and purple hair and love glitter. Whatever. Glitter comes in a couple of forms: chunky, almost confetti-like big glitter and then there's the sexy little sister, microglitter. This tokidoki liner is chock full of sparkly microglitter. Microglitter is the kind of glitter that makes people look at you and go "Is that glitter? Nah. Wait...nah. It's just really...sparkly." I have this liner in "Marrone" which is a deep, chocolately brown with gold microglitter in it. It's gorgeous. And the best part? No fallout. Every glitter wearer knows and dreads glitter fallout, when the glitter particles from your eye product go rogue and fall onto your cheeks. Hey, if I wanted glitter there I would have put it there! My next one of these is "Melodia" (dark gunmetal gray with gold microglitter, how yummy does that sound?!?!). I have so much love for this cute little eye pencil. I need more, I need a whole family of rocking microglitter liners. So do you.

4) LUSH Vanilla in the Mist soap
It's vanilla. And chocolate. And coconut. And flowers. And citrus. It's like freaking vacation in a soap. This will make your whole bathroom smell like heaven! It's not too stripping or drying, and the scent won't linger to compete with your fragrance du jour. It's just the nicest thing to wake up to, I adore it.

5) SexyHair's Short Sexy Hair Play Dirty Dry Spray Wax
I can't even put into words how much I love this little can of miracle working goo. It gives me piecey separation without weighing my hair down. It's just enough hold that I don't need hairspray or other products too. If my 'do starts to droop, a little squish brings it back to life. It won't dry your hair out or strip your color either. And it imparts so much shine, serums are gloss sprays are unnecessary. LOVE! Oh, and did I tell you about the smell yet? It smells like coconutty tanning oil. Like, the kind you're not allowed to use anymore because you need SPF instead of frying on the beach because melanomas are NOT sexy. Available at salons (where I picked it up, from Kate The Hair Whisperer) and Ulta.

6) LUSH Buffy The Backside Slayer Body Butter Bar
This isn't a new love of mine, I've used this product for years. But then it occurred to me that my friends might not know about Buffy, and that made me a sad panda. You rub this moisturizing and exfoliating gritty slab of butters onto your body in the shower. The shower will rinse away the exfoliating bits and leave you with skin as soft as a baby's bottom. It's so moisturizing, you won't need lotion after.

7) Urban Decay 24/7 Glide-On Eye Pencil in "Crash"
Remember how I'm so in love with glitter? CRASH HAZ IT. Just a touch of hot microglitter, enough to bring a pinch of shimmer to the windows of your soul. Crash is the kind of deep, eggplanty plum that will look great on brown, hazel or green eyes. Blue eyed girls need Underground, Lucky or Bourbon. It glides on without a single skip and wears great all day long, yet washes off easily. The Stereophonic set is a fantastic value, $20 to try four colors and a liquid glitter liner too. It has Crash and Underground both in it, in addition to Zero which is a pure black and great for a smokey eye look as well as Gunmetal which is a steely gray with shimmer and microglitter, so hot on dark eyes. It also includes a Heavy Metal glitter liner in Midnight Cowboy, a golden beige glitter which is great for a small accent.

and...last but not least, this sweet little treat for the non-makeup obsessed who have seriously NO CLUE what to do with eye makeup. I didn't buy it because, duh, I don't need it but I knew that some of you might be interested.

8) The Bare Escentuals Intro to Eyes kit.
It has EVERYTHING you need to do a perfectly polished, neutral and "done" eye look without looking too "done up". It has full step by step instructions with the brush included. It's a great little kit that will flatter any complexion or eye color. It's a great starter set, amazing value and great gift.

In conclusion, I would like to thank my sweet husband who endures my never ending quest for better, prettier products. He's never once whined about another trip to Sephora, Ulta or LUSH with me, and he indulges me by comparing smears of color on my arm and deciding which one is hot enough to take home. He's always feigned interest in my pursuit of products, and for that I thank him. I guess that's the biggest thing I love on this fine Love Thursday - the patience and love of my good man. ♥

Love Thursday - Earth Day Edition

2010-04-22T09:25:00.004-04:00

How long has it been since we've had a Love Thursday around here? I know, forever, right?

This week I'll break our Love Thursday down into two categories: things I love that are pretty cheap, and things I love that are a little investment. All of the things highlighted today are here in honor of Earth Day...think about incorporating one or two or all of my loves into your routine to reduce your waste and honor Mother Earth.

Easy and Inexpensive ways to make Earth Day every day:

1) Add a second trash can to your kitchen for recycling. It's a lot easier to do the third "R" when the can is sitting right there in your face. Banish the ugly blue bin to the garage or the side of the house, and keep a stylish kitchen sized trash can in plain sight (I like a step can, for hands free operation). I promise you, all of a sudden you will find yourself filling the recycle bin before your trash can is ready to be taken out. It's amazing how much recycling a small family can make! This will run you less than $10 and it's so easy to do. So do it.

2) While you're picking up that trash can, pick up a gallon of white vinegar and an empty spray bottle. Dilute that vinegar and use it for cleaning everything....spritz onto produce for a natural and cheap fruit and veggie wash, spray into your kitchen sink as disinfectant, use as window cleaner...the possibilities are endless! Each bottle of diluted vinegar and water will cost you only pennies, and clean your home without harmful fumes or chemicals. The vinegar and the spray bottle will run you between $3 to $5 depending on where you're buying it.

3) Are you buying this stuff at Target? Well then, you're in luck! Zip over to the automotive department and pick up a pack of their Zoom brand microfiber cloths. These are great for dusting, cleaning and general wiping up. Use these instead of paper towels, then wash and reuse over and over again. They are far superior in absorbency and surface cleaning ability to paper toweling, and will reduce your need for paper products. $5 at all Target stores.

4) Are you reading this at work? Use this ridiculously easy tip to reduce your paper waste. Flip it over. Don't recycle anything until you've used BOTH sides of the paper. I know this is kind of a "duh" thing to mention, but you'd be surprised how many reams of office paper get trashed after only being used on one side! Tis a shame.

5) Want to breathe cleaner air? Get a plant. Plants can purify the air of toxins. Here's a list of the top 10 houseplants for cleaner air. Getcha one.

Are you ready to make a more serious investment in your family's health and respect for our planet? These things that I love are a little more spendy, but well worth it in the long run in my opinion.

1) Reduce or eliminate the use of commercial cleaning solutions in your home by following Karen Logan's Clean House Clean Planet. Make your own cleaning solutions, insect baits and repellents and so much more. This book is my cleaning "bible". I adore it. Everyone needs a copy!

2) STOP TAKING PLASTIC BAGS FROM THE GROCERY STORE! I have a wardrobe of reusable bags, but my favorite by far are Flip and Tumble's 24/7 bags. They roll up into a little ball like a pair of socks when you're done using them - the perfect size to stash in your purse or pack. They hold up to 25 lbs, they're roomy, they're freaking adorable, and they have a long, comfy, cushioned shoulder strap handle. Pair them with Flip and Tumble's mesh produce bags for a fully "green" reusable shopping bag solution. I recommend at least one set of produce bags, and 3 to 4 of the 24/7 bags to start up. When they get dirty, just toss them in the wash then hang them dry. They'll be ready to rock and roll again in no time.

3) Sip out of reusable non-leaching stainless steel. Klean Kanteen are my favorite, by far. Their double walled vacuum insulated wide mouth bottles keep your latte hot up to 6 hours, and your iced tea cold for up to 24 hours! They come in 12, 16 and 20 oz. sizes (aka "tall" "grande" and "venti".) Hand washing is recommended but shhhh! I always clean mine in the dishwasher. I also love their fun, bright water bottles. I fill them with my Brita filtered water and stash them in the fridge for grab and go convenience.

4) Stop buying alkaline batteries. Invest in the Eneloop Power Pack Kit. These batteries are magic! 1) they come pre-charged. 2) they won't discharge when stored due to new low-discharge technology. 3) they convert from a AA to a C or D cell with a sleek little battery jacket. A C or D cell gives the same power as a AA cell, it's just a different size. So you slip your AA into the little C or D size jacket, and you instantly have whatever size battery you need! So ingenious!

5) Switch over to CFL bulbs already. You can't beat IKEA's CFL offerings for the price. I also love that IKEA takes in exhausted CFL's for proper disposal. Check out their Sparsam E26 rounded-style bulbs. So much prettier than the coil-shaped CFL's, and at $9 a two pack you can't go wrong!

6) Switch your detergent. I LOVE Charlie's Soap! It has no fragrance, bids stains of all kinds adieu, and rinses completely clean and residue free. It's great for sensitive skin, babies, and folks with allergies. It's environmentally friendly, hypoallergenic and super concentrated. A gallon of their liquid will run you $25, but it is enough for 128 loads. Plus, the company is run by FANTASTIC family-oriented people. I love supporting the entrepreneurial American spirit of the Sutherland family instead of giving my money to a giant corporate machine.

There are few things in life that I'm REALLY passionate about, but one of them is sustainable living. I hope these ideas that I'm sharing inspire you to make a few changes to your routine - or become more committed to the changes you've already made. Join me, as I do my best to practice the 3R's and preserve all the beauty in the world.

"We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children." (Native American Proverb)

Find your flavor.

2010-04-17T13:57:00.007-04:00

When I was four years old, a very nice lady came to my childhood home and asked my mother if I could ride the bus with her and her family to church. My mother agreed, and I was then thrust into a belief system that shaped my young faith for years. The church I attended was an Independent Fundamental Baptist church. They believe many things that I still hold as theologically true - Christ as the son of God, salvation for all bought with a price, and new life for all who believe. They also believe a lot of things that I don't agree with. They encourage men to have short "manly" hairstyles and women to have long hair, they feel women should dress in horrendously hideous items of clothing that are an abomination to the fashion world, they feel that women should be subservient to men, they feel that children should be spanked as punishment for disobedience, and they believe that all of these outer statements of faith are essential to be "in the world but not of the world" so that the dirty, unsaved masses can see that they are different, set apart, holy.

And that's where I have to get off the IFB boat and run. Really? Holy? Let me tell you what is holy.

Holy is devoting a portion of your life to planning community service events, where people come together to cook or help or otherwise give of themselves to those in need with no other catalyst behind the effort but their desire to share God's love. That's holy.

Holy is pure light and life in a child's smile, the boundless joy and pride in a parent's heart when they see their baby's first steps. And holy is loving that child enough to respect them as an individual and gently guide and nurture them with loving hands. (If God spanked you every time you did something wrong, would you listen to Him?)

Holy is a pair of loving and committed adults that view themselves not as leader and follower, but as a team. As equals, bound by a sacred promise of fidelity. As a symbiotic relationship of strengths and weaknesses that balance each other out and encourage one another to be their personal best. That's holy.

Holy is working to shape how the governments of the world treat all people so that they are treated as God sees them - equal, worthy, precious. That's holy.

I don't really want people to look at my culottes and decide that I'm different. I'd rather not turn people off with my weirdness that they see on the outside before they even get to know me. (Let them get to know me and see the weirdness on the inside, that'll turn 'em off for sure!) I'm not afraid to talk about my faith journey, with anyone. I'm not shy about being thankful for the many blessings on my life that I credit the hand of the Almighty with giving to me. But I don't need long hair, culottes and a quilted Precious Moments Bible cover to share those things. I just need me. God decided that I was enough to save, I was enough to redeem, I am enough to nurture in spirit, and so then it needs to be true that I am enough to share my relationship with Him with others.

The sad part about all of this is that I believe these things with all my heart, and have felt this way for years. But for years my passion was stifled in churches where I was just too weird. Too radical...too *gasp!* liberal. So I kept quiet. I tried to experience and claim a fullness of faith that just was too much for the mold they wanted me to stay in. It was like there was a religious glass ceiling and I was only allowed to go so far in most churches. Any further, and I'm out of bounds. I had to question...if I was out of bounds, why was God giving me passion for more? Why would He fill my heart with so much love and compassion for others but then put a cap on how far I was allowed to go with it?

The short answer is that He didn't. Denominations and the bylaws therein are man's invention, not God's. They're all just flavors of the same ice cream. There is value in all, and they are all different because different flavors will appeal to different folks. I just hadn't found my flavor yet.

I didn't find my flavor until I was 34 years old. I found my place among people who, like me, believe that all are equal, all are loved and all are people that God longs to have a relationship with, just as they are. Black, white, brown, young, old, single, married, divorced, gay, straight, handicapped, bald, whatever. There is enough love in God's heart for all, and there is a judgement-free place in a pew for you in the UCC. I love that. My denomination works tirelessly for social justice and equality, two causes that are dear to my heart. We believe that God is still speaking to us every day, and that resonates in my heart because I can't serve a God who is finished and bound up in 66 books. I need a God who is actively engaged in the day to day activities of all people, masterfully orchestrating a symphony that sings a song of life and joy and light and praise through sorrow to Him. We're not "in the world but not of the world". We are the world, and we are His. And every day we are blessed to hear the language of God in the nuances of life.

Everybody has that dimension of their heart that longs for spiritual influence. So I'm writing today, for anyone who feels adrift, alone, hungry, lost, unfulfilled. Find your flavor. I don't care what it ends up being, just find it. And grow in it, revel in it, allow your personal spiritual fulfillment to quench your thirst for more in life. It's Saturday afternoon, so you have over 12 hours to find a place to start your journey on Sunday morning. Google is your friend. Get out there and learn and listen and be. I don't care if it's Pentecostal or Mennonite or Lutheran or Catholic. Just find a home for your heart. You'll be glad you did.

P.S. To the fundamentalists who influenced, encouraged, and nurtured me: thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. You introduced me to a God that I might not have otherwise encountered. You provided a sturdy springboard for me to jump from, as the Spirit made me hungry for more. Without you, I wouldn't be who I am today. Please don't take it as a sign of disrespect that I have chosen not to live the way that you do. I understand you feel that you need to do what you do, and I respect that. I feel I need to do what I do. I am content to agree to disagree on the minor things because I know we will always agree on the major things. A wise HS principal of mine said that "The main thing is to always keep the main thing the main thing" and I completely agree.

Retraction

2010-03-19T15:01:00.006-04:00

On Sunday, I wrote a post in which I said, "I miss my life." It has come to my attention that I grossly misspoke.

I realized this last night, when Mr. found my old contacts book from my old job and brought it to me while I was in the kitchen. As I flipped through pages and pages of passwords, network configurations, IP addresses, account numbers, business cards and cell phone numbers I kind of laughed. At one time, six and a half years ago, that book was gold. It was priceless. It was indispensable for my job - for my life. And when my position was eliminated because they couldn't afford to keep me (after months of searching for a reason to fire me "with cause" when there was none), I took it all with me. Good luck to them trying to figure it out when I had all of my priceless information with me and only me. I traced the names and numbers with my fingertip and realized that at that time, this was my life. All bound up in a little book, names and numbers and birthdays and all the other information I had gathered to help me in my little career. That was my life, and now it's worthless. I threw it out.

And then I looked around me - at my husband, toting laundry downstairs, and at my son who was sitting on the sofa, at my dirty dinner dishes as I loaded them in the dishwasher, at my dogs panting at my feet for a walk...and then it hit me. THIS is my life. This is what I wake up for every morning, this is what I am passionate about. This is what I love, and by God's grace I still have it all intact and it is priceless.

I drifted off to sleep last night humbled, but warm at this revelation. This morning when I rose, it was a bright and sunny day. Daffodils are sprouting up from the ground, birds are singing and the season is warming as the earth comes back to life. That's kind of how my heart feels right now.

I'll tell ya what, it sucked moving during the winter and driving across the country through the snow. And silly me didn't see then what I realize now...by the time my heart was ready to warm up to all of the changes, it would be Spring. Spring is the season of new life, as Christian faiths celebrate Christ rising from the dead. Spring is the season when everything becomes green and lush and vibrant with a new beginning. And so it is Spring. And so I have a new beginning.

And when I think of it in that way, I'm actually quite blessed.

So now I'm heading out to the store, with my coupons and a plan. Because while some things change and are totally new...some things will always be the same. Time to go legally steal some cereal... :)

P.S. I can't update my Facebook status (yet) so I'm putting this here. Happy birthday, Timoth. You're the best pastor I've ever had. Today is perhaps the best and most perfect day (for me) to celebrate the day you were born. You inspired new life into my faith journey, and awakened a path in my heart that had long been dormant and forgotten. You're incredibly precious to me, and I miss you.

I know Lent isn't over, I'm not on Facebook!

2010-03-15T13:10:00.001-04:00

See, this is my BLOG. I'm posting to my blog.

Facebook imports my blog posts as notes.

Sheesh. Legalists. *giggle*

Hi, it's me. I miss you.

2010-03-14T23:01:00.003-04:00

I have too many calls that I could make and say this when you answer the phone. I wanted to say I'm sorry for being a bad friend. I'm sorry for letting myself suffer quietly when I know you would have done anything to be there for me - to listen to me, to let me cry, and to tell me that it will get better and that you're always only a phone call away. I've been so busy unpacking boxes while feeling sorry for myself that I forgot that it's okay to reach out when I need it.

I miss driving up to see you and watching our husbands race to eat caramel covered onions.

I miss going to lunch or for coffee with you, and not being afraid to let you see my heart.

I miss reaching the things on the high shelves for you at Jewel.

I miss playing laser tag with you and dancing to the techno music in the strobe lights, and laughing so hard it hurts.

I miss eating your taco dip even though it's covered in jalapenos, and nobody else wants to touch it.

I'm so sad that I'm missing how glorious you look during your pregnancy.

I miss your hand motions to Bee Gees songs.

I miss hearing about all the races you're training for.

I miss the way you get excited over pocky.

I miss bringing you lattes because it makes me happy to make good people happy.

I miss watching our children playing together.

I miss laughing with you.

I miss crying with you.

I miss your hugs.

If any of that made you wonder if I meant you, I probably did. I miss you. I know that even though I feel lonely and sad and that I miss you so much it hurts, I know you're still there.

I promise to not replace you with new friends. I couldn't if I tried. There's only one you. I hope you know how much I love you and miss you.

Good morning, Baltimore

2010-03-12T19:50:00.004-05:00

Yeah, I really like to title my blog posts with names of songs. I really like music.

So today I was driving to our first playgroup here since we moved, and my GPS took me the long way - at least what I assume was the long way, maybe it was just the way.

I passed Camden Yards, ESPN Zone, the Hard Rock, the Children's Museum and various other landmarks. Even through today's rainy weather, I was struck with one simple thought..."WOW. This city is beautiful." There really is quite a bit for me to explore and discover. I think I might get why Glen is so in love with his city.

Of course it's taken me a long time to get to the place emotionally where I even *can* consider things to explore. I still miss home desperately. I spent $100 today on frozen par baked deep dish pizzas to be FedEx'd to my house on dry ice. I miss home THAT much. I still have too many boxes lying around unpacked. They're mostly boxes that my pastor and his partner shared with us from their move. They make me sad to see lying around, because each time I see them I am struck with how much I miss my Timoth and my Pedro. And I still think of him as "my pastor" even though now he's technically not, he's just my friend and someone my heart treasures.

Since I haven't posted in over a month, I'll fill you in on the journey so far. Our drive here was a long one. After a very long afternoon loading the truck, we left Illinois 4 hours behind schedule. My wonderful friend Chris was there until we locked the door to our old house behind us. I really thought I was going to have a major cryfest saying goodbye to her, but I think I was too tired from the long day to cry. I drove the Jeep with Moose and Bella, Mr. drove the moving truck with Katie. I got behind the wheel, GPS'd up some directions and put my iPod on shuffle. Then I cried. The first song that came up was Lykke Li's "Possiblity". The first stanza: "There's a possiblity/there's a possiblity/all that I had was all I'm gon' get." Hello, tears. In Ohio, I was pulled over by state police. He wanted to tell me the light over my license plate was out. Cops scare the piss out of me, I could have done without that. As I wound through the mountains of Pennsylvania the following day, snow drifted down gently and I decided to give Facebook up for Lent. By the way, Facebook readers...I'm not cheating. Facebook automatically sucks up my blog posts to publish them there as notes. Yippee for you, you get to hear from me! Hooray for loopholes! I think I'm still honoring my quest to give up things that take my focus off of my Savior. And I think Jesus would be pleased...nay, impressed that I found a loophole. He was the King of Loopholes. He's the guy you want around when you run out of wine at your wedding reception, I'll tell ya that much. He knows the loophole around that. And don't even bother trying to crucify Him, He'll just come back to life three days later. Booya! Loophole FTW. Anyways, back to the point. If you read my blog, you know that I love me some snow and that snow always makes me think of one thing: grace. So I drove through the grace, and enjoyed some quiet time to refocus my mind on the transition ahead. There to here. IL to MD. Home to...the place I live now. *sigh*

And on the third day, we arrived here in Maryland at our new home. I had chatted up Moose about "the new house" so much, possibly too much. Every time we stopped for gas or to eat or to rest, he asked if we were at the new house. We were finally here. We parked, unloaded our inflatable mattresses and suitcases from the trip, and crashed out. The next day the movers came to help us unload boxes from the moving truck and they were fantastic. They were strong and quick and polite. I fixed them lunch, and wasn't at all surprised when they paused to say grace before eating. They were really great guys.

Over the past few weeks, I've unpacked and arranged and rearranged furniture. We all have been getting over a nasty cold and cough that we imported from Illinois with us. I've given up my Starbucks habit out of necessity. There is no Starbucks within a 5 mile radius of here, and the ones that are close enough to go to don't have drive throughs. So I pulled out my own espresso machine, used it to death (literally) and then bought an upgraded one online. I'm having a good time playing with it every day. I have mastered the latte, pull great shots of espresso on it, and really enjoy my afternoon macchiato. And also, now I feel stupid for spending $5 a cup at Starbucks every day sometimes several times a day when I could have been doing it at home much more frugally. We've settled into a nice little daily routine, and in time I'm sure that my life here will feel normal.

But right now it doesn't. I still feel like a foreigner here. I'm the only one in town who isn't still talking about The Snow. And I'm lonely. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss my life. I miss feeling like I am where I belong. I miss knowing how to get to the grocery store, the post office, the mall. I feel constantly lost and adrift in a sea of a million faces I don't know. I feel as if I've lost my footing in life. And it was in the middle of feeling like this, that a song came on the radio that made me cry. I loved it - it was *just* how I felt. So I tried to tag it with Shazam. Nothing. I recorded a sample of it with my phone and then Googled the lyrics...all crap leads. I finally resorted to emailing the sample to my friend Doug, who works with the music industry so he always knows everything about every new song and emerging artist. I knew Doug would know. He took a listen and figured it out within about 5 minutes, he's awesome like that.

"Your Hands" JJ Heller

I have unanswered prayers
I have trouble I wish wasn't there
And I have asked a thousand ways
That You would take my pain away
That You would take my pain away

I am trying to understand
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crooked lie
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

When You walked upon the Earth
You healed the broken, lost, and hurt
I know You hate to see me cry
One day You will set all things right
Yea, one day You will set all things right

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

Your hands
Your hands that shape the world
Are holding me, they hold me still
Your hands that shape the world
Are holding me, they hold me still

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave You when...

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave...
I never leave Your hands

And so that's where I am. I miss home, I think there might be something here for me and I'm willing to find it, but I miss the people I love. Laura said that God sprinkles the good people out over everywhere, and I'm trusting that she's right.

I wish my pizza would hurry up and get here. It's the only tiny taste of home I'll get until one of you comes out to visit me, or Southwest gives me a Ding! fare BWI to MDW. They keep trying to sell me a ticket to Rhode Island or Birmingham. Hi, I don't want to go there!

I want to go home.

Epiphany

2010-02-08T20:36:00.003-05:00

I know, I know. Epiphany was in January. Apparently, I'm on some kind of delayed calendar system, because mine just came today. I was driving home from SuperTarget (all these great revelations happen on the way home from SuperTarget, I really should go there more often!) when David Crowder Band's version of "Thank You For Hearing Me" shuffled up on my iPod. I listened to it with glee, since the song had been on my mind since I read this article that my friend Rachel had posted on FB yesterday. It was then that this thought floated into my mind...God said "I AM hearing you. YOU'RE not hearing ME!"

Behold, my FB status update from yesterday morning: "Felicia Castillo Powers has had a long, busy, hard week so I'm ready to be recharged, refilled and experience God right down here in the "woe is me I move in one week" zone where I live..."

And so He came.

I'm so stupid, I keep asking for this stuff and then I can't really act surprised or betrayed when it happens. When God comes down and shakes me like a baby that can't stop crying* - I can't be mad at that when I asked for it.

Here are the things that have been impressed upon my heart within the past 24 hours:

1) I asked God for several things. I asked Him for my husband back. You see, way back when we were traveling through Unemploymentland, my husband turned into this other person that felt foreign. He wasn't the guy that I married. I was so mad. I felt deceived and angry and shaken and abandoned and afraid to trust him because if a little hiccup in life like being between jobs could shake him and turn him into this other person that I don't even want to know much less be married to...how could I trust that? Well, through this journey of being apart, my husband has gotten a good look at what life without me looks like and let's just say that he looks at that says "DO NOT WANT!" at the top of his lungs. Not that I'm that much of a prize, but together we just work. When we are both at the top of our game, we are awesome together. Anyways, the point is that I asked for him back and through this process of being separated by force he has slowly and magically returned to being the person I used to know. I just wasn't too focused on that. I was too busy being a crybaby over having to move.

2) I also asked God to change my heart and make me happy and excited for this move. I'm pretty sure I also completely sabotaged anything He ever tried to do to work in me by constantly bitching and moaning about this move. So I was smart enough to say "help me want this thing that You have planned for me even though I desperately don't want it" but yet not smart enough to let go of my fistfuls of angst and sadness so I could hold on to Him and get there. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I don't know what to tell you. I used to be a blonde and the bleach must have seeped into my brain, causing some residual brain damage.

3) I also asked God to take care of our needs. And He provided, He provided abundantly while Mr. was out of work. He provided enough for us, our extended family, people we don't know, and then some. It was like Hanukkah without the oil and lamps. And when He was done showing us how He will always tend to our needs, He blessed us even further with a great new job for Mr. I saw that, but I didn't see it enough. I didn't give it sufficient credit. I am guilty of not valuing the path He chose to show us His provision for us. My vision was blurred by incessant tears as I mourned the loss of all I've ever known.

If God had a physical voice that He had elected to speak to me with, today He would have said something like this in an incredibly exasperated tone: "Woman! I am hearing you. And I am giving you everything you asked for, and even more on top of that! Would you just look around you? Do you see how I have provided everything you need for this move, for this journey? I gave you friends to help you and hold you and love you. I gave you a ridiculously cheap moving truck. I even gave you the boxes! I gave you free packing tape from your Staples rewards card. I gave you every single little thing that you need and you STILL will not STOP complaining. I gave you your health insurance back, I gave you a beautiful brand new home on the other side of this trip, I gave you the husband that you loved and missed and wanted back. I looked down and gave you THE WORLD on a silver platter and you, you ungrateful little jerk...YOU won't let go of what you have now so I can show you all the amazing things I have for your future! Three years ago, you never thought that you would feel this way about this place. I brought you here because I had something for you to learn here and I'm bringing you there because I have something even more wonderful planned for you there. Now would you PLEASE stop your complaining and just let me work?"

Okay, okay...I hear You. Thank you for hearing me.

* never shake the baby.

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.

2010-01-24T20:16:00.005-05:00

At the ripe old age of 35, I could honestly say that all my dreams had come true. I'm married to a good guy, I am mother to the most beautiful boy on earth, I have two dogs that fill my days with waggy tails and canine-related hijinks. Yes, at 35 I could honestly say that I was happy. I was fulfilled. The things I had dreamed for my life had come to pass, and I was satisfied. This post is going to be long. I apologize in advance.

Here's one thing I can tell you with full confidence about God making your dreams come true: when He makes all your dreams come true, He then invariably gives you another one.

One of the many things that had made my days so fulfilling was becoming a part of a genuinely great faith community. Our local church has been the most incredible landing spot for my heart. We had searched for so long for that place that felt like "home". Meeting the good people of HOPE United Church of Christ on our very first Sunday there was like meeting my husband for the very first time. I just instantly "knew". We were home after years of searching for a spiritual resting place. I breathed a long-awaited sigh of relief as we settled into our new congregation. And then one day my Pastor, whom I adore, did the unthinkable. He told me that part of his job as a pastor was "not only to comfort the afflicted, but also to afflict the comfortable." "But I'm not comfortable!" I lamely protested. Of course I was comfortable. See paragraph one if you require a refresher on that topic. And then he asked me to do an even far more unspeakable, unthinkable thing. He asked me to preach a sermon.

I laughed it off at first. I jokingly said I'd probably cuss. He said that was okay. Then I fell prey to my hyperliteral Baptist upbringing. "BUT I'M A GIRL!!!!" I argued. I think his reply was something deep, along the lines of "And???" And I had nothing. If the combination of my sailor's mouth and feminine gender weren't enough to get him off this mission, I didn't have anything left in my line of defense.

So I thought about it.

And I thought back to when I was in high school, I remembered the day I met my Savior. The day I realized I had a need for someone to build a bridge between God and myself because a lifetime of me being "a good girl" simply would not suffice. And I reflected back to my college experience and the day I surrendered my heart to ministry work. Of course then, my definition of feminine ministry work included teaching Sunday School to children or teens (but never men), making casseroles and possibly marrying a minister or missionary and being his cookie cutter perfect little "helpmeet". I was willing to leave all of myself behind and if it was what God had for me, become the meek and silent culotte-wearing Baptist version of a Stepford Wife. You know the kind. They sit in their pew beside their deacon husband, with a facial expression of half surprise and half deep thought, hands placed lightly in their lap, with their head cocked to the side in that kind of confused puppy dog stare. If you know me, you know this is so totally NOT me so making a choice that I would sacrifice all of my me-ness to become that was pretty huge. I began down a road of compromises that started with me dating a missions major...which thankfully, didn't pan out. Crisis averted, and after college it seemed that ministry just wasn't what life had in mind for me. Instead I got married and divorced and married and divorced and married and had a baby and then...we're back to paragraph one.

Silly me, I was a sitting duck. Life began to whip around me, creating this perfect storm of realization and along with it the creation of this new dream. I had no idea it was even happening until I was in the thick of it. I kicked and screamed and complained and doubted and one by one, messengers have come along the way to dissolve every single objection I could come up with.

So I agreed to do the sermon. The morning of, I had misplaced my notes and was late for church while I searched the house for them. Classic rookie mistake, I had put them somewhere where I couldn't possibly lose them...and then I couldn't remember where I'd stashed them. I didn't talk about any groundbreaking developments in Christianity and believe me, I now completely see the irony of my message entitled "What Are You Bringing To The Table?" in which I discussed how each member of the body of Christ is blessed with a gift, a talent and a passion and we are both equipped to and commanded to share of this overflowing bounty. While I tried to act casual during announcements and music and the offering and prayer time, my stomach churned with nerves. My friend Mandie and my mother had come out for the service. I continued to feel nervous and anxious during the first portion of my speaking, until I finally told Mark that his picture taking was "so distracting" and then I found my stride. And it was profound. It was amazing. I slipped into this comfortable groove that didn't feel manufactured (as in the Baptist robowife depicted above) or wrong, it felt totally natural. Completely organic and spontaneously perfect while I shared the message that God had brought to my heart. When church was over, Mandie came over to say goodbye and she asked how I felt and like a woman possessed I said "I want more!!!! But don't tell anybody!" After the service, a few church members outright told me "you should go into the ministry" and I gently told them that no, all my life all I wanted was to be a wife and a mommy and I have that so I'm satisfied. And up until then, that was all true. Little did I know that the first gust of this perfect storm of life had just blown in. I wasn't even really in touch that it had happened, I just really loved what I was able to do that day.

My friend Terra told me about this book she was reading and loving. I had Mr. pick it up for me at the library, and started in on The Dance of The Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd. You might have to read to book to "get" it, but the gist of it is that women are not necessarily required to be robobabes as previously described. We have amazing hearts, generous and compassionate. We are talented and smart and approachable and tenderhearted. We are just as committed to the message of hope, faith and God as our male counterparts. The very first person on earth to ever carry the Gospel was a woman. Jesus' mother, Mary. And just. like. that. all my "but I'm a girl!!!" arguments were null and void.

Then there was my "but I'm divorced" obstacle. In detailing the requirements of a minister, the Bible specifically says he must be "the husband of one wife". Does divorce then eliminate willing servants? Well what if the understanding of that simply is that you must be faithful to your partner? I guess that interpretation would then render my ex husbands ineligible to serve, but not me.

What about the way I was abused as a child, and those scars left within?

And what about my difficult experiences with not just one, but two failed marriages?

And what about the fact that I am so overwhelmingly imperfect that there is nothing good in me except what God gives me?

My friend, Nathan Clair, sent me a link to one of his sermons entitled "The Unexpected Moment". I used to run around AWANAS with Nate when I was in Jr. High. We graduated from the same high school, him one year before me, and had lost touch until the magic of Facebook offered us the opportunity to reconnect. How grateful I am for the magic of Facebook, for it was this inspired message of his that washed away all my doubts and brought me to the realization that when I say "I can't do this, God, I am too wounded/broken/messed up/wrong for You to use" He says "I know. Isn't it great? I have so much to work with!"

So it was there in my Jeep, on my way home from Super Target, as I listened to Nate's insights that I had downloaded onto my iPod, that I cried "Uncle!" and decided that maybe this thing that my pastor and church family sees in me is something that I have been chosen to do. When I talked to my husband about this growing direction in my heart, his response was a sing-songy "I'm gonna do a pastor, I'm gonna do a pastor!" so I'd have to say that he's on board. For now, the long term plan is that after the kids are in school and I have some free time with my days I'll enroll in seminary to follow this path. And as I've thought back on my life's journey that has brought me to this place, I think I'd like to work with teens and college age kids because there are so many people who were in my life back then who had an impact on me, that led me to this place that I need to invest my life in that.

In the middle of church today, my friend Zach leaned over to me and whispered, "Would you just be a pastor already, Felicia?" and I smiled and said "Oh, we'll talk about that later." Hey Zach, it's later.

And that's the story of how, when I thought all my dreams had already come true, God gave me a new one. The perfectly inspired thing about it is that as I look back I can clearly see how God ordered each step and orchestrated each influence to bring me here. There are a lot of parts of my life, especially recently, which have been upside down and backwards and uncertain and uncomfortable. But I can say with complete confidence that this is part of the beautiful tapestry that God is weaving with my life. There's some tangles in my tapestry. And some holes. And some spots where it's worn thin and threadbare. There are wrinkles, lots of them. But God has shown me that He is both able to and committed to making something beautiful out of what I bring to the table.

I've always loved this song, by one of my favorite groups. Lately, the second verse and chorus has been especially resounding with my heart:

What I get from my reflection
Isn't what I thought I'd see
Give me reason to believe
Never leave me incomplete
Will you untie this loss of mine
It so easily defines me
Do you see it on my face?
And all I can think about
Is how long
I've been waiting to feel you move me
Close my eyes and hold my heart
Cover me and make me something
Change this something normal
Into something beautiful.

Sleep, glorious sleep!

2010-01-20T10:52:00.002-05:00

I haven't been sleeping lately. Many nights, I check the clock doing the Sleep Math..."okay, if I fall asleep RIGHT NOW I can get 5 hours" and then an hour later "if I fall asleep right now, I can get 4 hours..." and the sleep never comes. I just have too much on my mind. Playing the part of a single mom during this season means that sleep aid medications aren't an option - they completely knock me out and if my son needs me in the night I need to be able to wake up and function. So I've been subsisting on 2 to 3 hours of sleep a night. It's never enough.

Until last night. Yesterday was a really hard day. It was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting. I had cried so hard yesterday that my contacts were mucked up and I took them out to clean them. I read my son a few books, and tucked him in. He asked for hugs, like he usually does. I usually just lay there and hug him until he falls asleep and then slink off to my own bed. Last night, I passed out.

The last thing I remember is my sweet baby boy slinging his arm around my neck as he said "Mama, I love you" and he kissed me on the nose. And then it came to me. I fully succumbed to deep, slack-jawed, drooling and snoring sleep. I came to around 4:45 in the morning. I thought of my friend Peter, who was already rising for his day and thought maybe I'd do that. Then I thought "yeah right" as I fumbled to my own bedroom and snuggled under the blankets. I arose around 8:50, and I feel like a new person.

I made myself a cup of coffee out of habit but I might not even drink it. I am kind of bummed that I woke up before my alarm clock went off, because today would have been a great day to hear the wake up track that was ready to play at 9:00.

India.Arie
"A Beautiful Day"

Life is a journey,
Not a destination,
There are no mistakes,
Just chances we’ve taken
Lay down your regrets cause all we have is now

Wake up in the morning
And get out of bed
Start making a mental list in my head
Of all of the things that I am grateful for

Early in the morning
It’s the dawn of a new day
New hopes new dreams new ways
I open up my eyes and
I open up my mind and
I wonder how life will surprise me today
Early in the morning
It’s the dawn of a new day
New hopes new dreams new ways
I open up my heart and
I’m gonna do my part and
Make this a positively beautiful day

Life is a challenge not a competition
You can still smell the roses and be on a mission
Just take a moment to get in touch with your heart
Sometimes you feel like you’ve got something to prove
Remind yourself that there’s only one you
Just take a moment to give thanks for who you are
Early in the morning
It’s the dawn of a new day
New hopes, new dreams, new ways
I open up my eyes and
I open up my mind and
I wonder how life will surprise me today
Early in the morning
It’s the dawn of a new day
New hopes, new dreams, new ways
I open up my heart and
I’m gonna do my part and
Make this a positively beautiful day

Let’s make this a wonderful
Let’s make this a powerful
Let’s make this a Beautiful Day
It’s a Beautiful Day

Life is a journey,
Not a destination,
There are no mistakes,
Just chances we’ve taken
Lay down your regrets cause all we have is now

My husband is such a Prince

2010-01-16T21:39:00.002-05:00

Behold this email exchange between him and a sketchy person on Craigslist, regarding a home that was posted for rent:

> --- On Sat, 1/16/10, Timothy Powers
> wrote:
>
>
> From: Timothy Powers
> Subject: Re: 4 br | 2 Â¬Î© ba | 3,118 sqft | Single-Family Home -
> To: "castledavids@yahoo.com"
> Date: Saturday, January 16, 2010, 8:33 PM
>
>
>
> I would be interested in viewing this property at your convenience.Â I
> would be looking for immediate occupancy.
>
> Warmest Regards,
>
> Timothy Powers

---------------------------- Original Message ----------------------------
Subject: Re: 4 br | 2 Â¬Î© ba | 3,118 sqft | Single-Family Home -
From: "David S Castle"
Date: Sat, January 16, 2010 6:57 pm
To: "Timothy Powers"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The house is still available for rent; the house was completely renovated
easy access to Public Transportation. The Bedroom house is equipped with
everything you can need for your stay: fully equipped kitchen,
Refrigerator, Microwave, Gas Range,Dishwasher,Garbage Disposal,Hood Over
Range,Granite Counter,Available,washing machine...... Bedrooms, bath.. And
large living room with appliances including in-suite washer and
dryer,electric heating,Wall Furnaces.Â
Â
House Address: 2701 Riva Rd, Annapolis MD
Terms and conditions: Utilities are included in the rent.
Refundable Security deposit: $1000
min rental: 1 months
maximum rental: 6 year + or more
Â
Thanks for contacting us about our AwesomeÂ Bedroom,Â Bathroom. Gorgeous!.
I really understand your present condition. I want you to understand that
we are not after the money but searching for a good person to take good
care of our property, for the prize, we agree to negotiate with you.
Â
I will love to have showed you round the place and the inside, but am
sorry we are presently out of town. My wife is one of the coordinator of
United State Missionary Organization now she advised me to rent/lease our
property because she was posted to Western Africa Countries (Nigeria) by
the United State Christain Organization for (Worldwide Missionary
Outreach). We could not find an honest agent to hand over the place before
leaving the state so we decided to post the property online.You can drive
by the house to view it from outside.
Â
Here is our rental application form that you will have to fill if you are
still interested in this rent,and pictures of our property.
Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â RENTAL
APPLICATION FORM
Neatly complete all information below. All other applicants over the age
of 18 must complete and sign their own application.
Â
TENANT'S PERSONAL INFORMATION
FIRST NAME: __________________
MIDDLE NAME: __________________
LAST NAME: __________________
PROFESSION: ________________
PHONE (____) __________ (WORK)
PHONE (____) __________ (HOME)
MARITAL STATUS: _________
KIDS _____ (YES/NO), HOW MANY ________
PRESENT ADDRESS: ___________________________
CITY: _______________
STATE: ______________
ZIPCODE: ____________
HOW LONG? ___________IF RENTING
WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?
CURRENT RENT: _______
PREVIOUS ADDRESS: ___________________________
CITY: ________________
STATE: _______________
ZIPCODE: _____________
HOW LONG? ____________ IF RENTING,HOUSE.
WHY DID YOU LEAVE?
PREVIOUS RENT: _______
IF THIS HOUSE IS BEING GIVEN TO YOU,
HOW LONG DO YOU INTEND STAYING? ____________
WHEN DO YOU INTEND MOVING IN? ______________
Â *PETS*
IF YOU HAVE A PET,
NAME OF PET: ______________
KIND OF PETS: _____________
WEIGHT: ___________________
Â HABITS
DO YOU SMOKE? ______________
DO YOU DRINK ALCOHOLIC? ______________
DO YOU WORK LATE NIGHT? ____
Â
I CERTIFY that answers given herein are true and complete to the best of
my knowledge. I authorize investigation of all statements contained in
this application for tenet screening as may be necessary in arriving at a
tenant decision. I understand that the landlord may terminate any rental
agreement entered into for any misrepresentation made above.you can bring
in your stuffs and items.
Â
Please get back to me today with a reply,so that we can discuss on how to
recieved the keys and documents via shipping company.
Â
I hope to read from you with more information.
Thanks for the time and energy writing me, My regards to your family.
Â
Name:Rev David Castle
United stateÂ Christian Assistant
coordinators Missionary Outreach
Organization Western region
Head quoter Branch
Cell +234-813-942-8300
Toll Free 011234-813-942-8300
www.themaninthesynagogue.org
www.synagoguevisits.co.uk
www.uscj.org

And finally, my Prince Charming's reply:

---------------------------- Original Message ----------------------------
Subject: Re: 4 br | 2 Â¬Î© ba | 3,118 sqft | Single-Family Home -
From: "Timothy Powers"
Date: Sat, January 16, 2010 7:46 pm
To: "David S Castle"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is wonderful news!

In fact, I myself am a Nigerian prince and I have decided to hand over all
of my wealth to you in the sum of $999,999,999. To expedite the transfer
of funds, I will need your personal checking account number, social
security number, date of birth, drivers license number, and all other
forms of personal information. All that I ask is that you provide me with
$3000 upfront to cover my upfront costs assocaited with preparing the
documetns and wiring the funds to you.

Nice try buddy.

--------------------------------------------

Stuff like this just makes me fall in love with him all over again!

Oh, you've gotta be kidding me - or - I thought it felt kind of hot down there...

2010-01-12T17:20:00.003-05:00

Just got a notice from Chrylser. Here's my grossly paraphrased version:

Hey, Guys

Remember about a year ago when we told you that your car had been recalled because we discovered your seat heaters could accidentally get too hot and fry your huevos? Well, thanks for coming in and having us switch that out for you. But we just learned that the replacement parts we put in there can accidentally get so hot it might actually catch on fire. Now, that would be REALLY bad for your happy sacks so if you could just come on by right quick and let us work on your car for an hour and a half we need to switch those replacement parts out. KTHXBAI.

You have got to be kidding me, Chrysler. You are issuing a recall ON A RECALL?!?! Seriously?

As if I have time for these shenanigans. But, since I also don't have time for my car to catch fire (this happened to my mom once, and let me tell you it is not a fun thing) I suppose I'll suck it up and be visiting my local dealership soon. UGH.

Goodbye, Home.

2010-01-08T19:58:00.005-05:00

After all my ponderings and working out how I felt about possibly relocating, going back over a YEAR ago (what a difference a year makes), I'm finally really moving. And it's not at all how I planned. The path I'm taking is not at all what I had in mind, not at all what I wanted, not at all where I thought I was going and I am struggling to make peace with it. I will not lie to you. I am absolutely brokenhearted to leave Chicagoland.

This is my home. This is where I was born and raised, and this is the climate I am accustomed to, and this is the traffic that I know, and these are the streets that I am familiar with. These are the surroundings that have borne witness to everything I have been, everything I am and everything I am becoming. Chicago has seen me through divorces, marriages and the birth of my beloved son. This is the city in which my mother and father met, courted, married and raised a family. This soil is where I am from. My roots here run deep.

This is the place where I met my Savior, and this is the place where I learned and grew. This is the place where I met my husband - the man who would try, and sometimes fail, but mostly try to make all my dreams come true. This is where we met and adopted our dogs, our sweet practice babies, and this is where I met nearly all the friends I have in life.

And now I'm leaving. And it's not by choice. That aforementioned husband landed a really great job across the country at a critical point in our tour of duty through Unemploymentland - right as our savings were nearly depleted, and just as his unemployment benefits ran out. We were in a position in which we couldn't say no. So for the past two months, he has been there working at his new job and searching for our next home while I have been here halfheartedly packing and waiting to see what he would find. Well, he found it. It really is a lovely place, well-maintained, with a big backyard for the dogs and a basement for our son's playroom, and plenty of sunny, window-filled rooms for us to fill with light and life. By all accounts, it is a great home and one I could be happy in. There's only one problem - it's not MY home. My home is here, cozy among my things. I am comfortable here, esconced in a lifetime of mementos and treasures that clutter my bookcases, drawers and shelves. I'm supposed to make my home "there" but right now it doesn't feel like "there" will ever be home. Because "there" will never be "here" and I have yet to discover how to reconcile that in my mind. I am leaving the place that created me for a place that is largely unknown. I've never been been to where I'm moving to, and I've only seen the house I'll be living in through pictures online. If a picture is worth a thousand words, why do these particular pictures leave me wondering so much?

Will I be happy there?
Will I make new friends?
Will there be other children on our street for my son to play with?
How far away is the grocery store?
Where is the library?
Can I ever find a church there that I love as much as I love our church here?
Can I ever find friends that I will love as much as the friends I have now?

I don't know. I don't know the answers to these, and a million other questions and fears that keep me up at night and paralyze me into distracted inactivity during the day. But I have to get over it and put all those emotions on the shelf (it probably would be better to pack them in a box, since I have to empty the shelves in my home) and soldier on.

Well, if there is one thing I know anything about, it's soldiering on. Because in Chicago, where I'm from, my home, that's what we do. It can snow 8" in one night and we still get out there in the morning, brush our cars off, and go about our day as if it were nothing. We can find out that our governor sells more seats than the AMC theater did on opening night of New Moon, and we just shake that dirt off our shoulders and go on. We face a windchill factor of -20 and we just bundle up and move on. We cheer for a football team and baseball teams who have a legacy of choking. Well, not me personally but, Chicagoans in general. That's just how we roll here.

So I guess that's how I'm gonna roll there.

But before I go, Chicago, please allow me to bid you a fond farewell. You with your CTA buses and trains, the Metra and the El, your horrific congestion on the Edens, the Kennedy, the Eisenhower, and all the other tollways named after Presidents. Goodbye to your historic, hallowed architecture that has always dazzled me. Goodbye to your gorgeous skyline that never fails to take my breath away. Goodbye to my beloved friends, my amazing family, my precious church that I will miss with all my heart every. single. day. Goodbye to your museums, stadiums, parks and malls that have been my home for 35 wonderful years. Goodbye to delicious deep dish pizza and drippy dipped Italian beefs and delectable beef hot dogs on poppy seed buns with pickles and mustard and onions and tomatoes and nuclear green relish and celery salt and sometimes sport peppers but never ketchup.

Goodbye, Home. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you more when I was here. I will miss you terribly when I am gone, and will long for you deeply when I go away. You made me who I am, and you taught me so much. I mourn the loss of my childhood home. But you taught me how to be one tough little cookie, Chicago...and so for you, to honor you, and everything you have done for and meant to me, I'm going to try to be tough.

Right after I finish crying.

The long road somewhere

2009-12-05T01:08:00.002-05:00

This has been an interesting year.

My husband lost his job at the beginning of Spring, sending him (and consequently, me) into this uncontrollable downward spiral of isolation that nearly destroyed our family. I couldn't do anything to save him as he became his own little island away from me. I quietly recoiled into myself, shared my pain with my closest friends and then retreated to the guest room to ride it out and see what would happen.

I did my best to maintain an outward veneer of normalcy for my son's sake. Inside I felt like part of me was dying. I didn't ever think that my happy ending would end this way.

In between, I frequently dipped into the well of love and support that my friends brought to me. And while I felt less than awesome and certainly not happy, the one sentiment they all shared was that yes, I indeed was awesome and yes, I indeed deserved to be happy. To be honest, I didn't even like myself. The stress of becoming the primary caregiver for more than my fair share quickly wore me down. And in the middle of all of this, somehow I kind of lost part of myself. I lost my spunk. I lost my fun. I lost my happy. It was just gone.

Well, much has changed. Mr. has a new job, which is challenging him and awakening him out of his emotional hibernation. And he is trying, very hard although sometimes in ways that don't resonate with me, to be the person I thought I was marrying 3 years and 360 days ago. Slowly but surely, I'm getting back to who and where I was before the storm hit and I might even be better for it.

Lately, I can't sleep at night. I've missed out on so much of life for so many months that there is tons for me to catch up on. Last night I stayed up late coloring my hair. I can't remember the last time I cared enough about myself to do anything like that. This is the king of sad for someone who has had a hot and heavy love affair with 30 volume developer and whatever color tickled my fancy for years.

But I'm back. I'm back, my hair is fun again and I'm ready to bring it. I'm back to being the kind of girl that when my feet hit the floor in the morning, the devil says "oh shit, she's up!"

I'm beyond thankful. Thankful for my friends, my Family 2.0, who never wavered in love and support even when I didn't even think I was worth the effort. And I'm thankful for my husband, who figured out how to snap out of it before he completely failed me and our son. And I'm thankful for my pastor, who when I told him I didn't feel that I had anything of value to share with people, said "Oh, but you do" and he meant it. And he may have been right, and even if he wasn't he challenged me enough to dig my own heels in and put the brakes on everything that had gone awry to find part of me that I'd lost. And I'm thankful for my God, who I am sure heard my whining and thought "would you just shut up? I'm trying to do something here" and somehow kept me sane enough to stick around and see what He was up to.

I'm not quite sure what the point of all the struggle was, but I think He was making me fierce. One request though if you read my blog, God...next time, could we do this with a little less drama? KTHXBAI.

Let them eat cake!

2009-11-05T23:22:00.002-05:00

I love cake. Yesterday was my birthday. I didn't get any cake yesterday. I was sad.

So today, I made me my own birthday cake. I know, I'm lame. I don't have a problem with box cake mix, I get box cake mix. It's easy, predictable, always tastes reasonably good and it gets the job done pretty quickly. I don't have a problem with box cake mix. But I have a huge problem with canned frosting.

Canned frosting is an abomination and an insult to any and all baked goods. Canned frosting isn't even really a food! I can't pronounce the ingredients in canned frosting. It's the nastiest nasty that ever nastied. Here's my philosphy when it comes to frosted cakes: if you're gonna do the crime (and eat it), take the time to make real frosting. Really. It's not that hard.

Tonight I whipped up some chocolate buttercream frosting for my cake and it was fantastic! Next time you make a cake, frost it with this...eat it, and be fat and happy.

Buttercream frosting:
1 1/2 sticks butter, softened (If I forget to take the butter out to soften ahead of time, I unwrap the sticks and put them in a bowl and set it on top of the stove while the oven and cake cool. The warmth of the oven is enough radiant heat to soften up the butter.)
1 t vanilla
2 c powdered sugar
3 T milk

Cream butter in bowl, add in vanilla. Sift in powdered sugar and whip together. Add milk slowly to reach desired consistency for spreading. To chocolafy, add in 4 T cocoa powder when you sift in the sugar.

This takes all of 5 minutes and it's SOOOOO worth it!

Thankful

2009-09-18T14:23:00.002-04:00

So many things to be thankful for this afternoon....

First that God kept me and Moose safe while we drove through West Chicago at noon today.

Second, that Joe & Crystal used to live in West Chicago, so I knew my way through the side streets as the marshalls had 59 closed off. I was scared out of my skin hearing the search helicopters overhead, but it was empowering to know my way around. I love you, my Crystal Pistol!

And of course that they got the armed escaped convicted bank robber guy. And that while he was of course within close proximity of where I was (literally just a block away!) that I never saw him.

Finally, I am thankful to be safe at home. WHEW!

Taps

2009-08-20T23:20:00.002-04:00

My uncle Don has passed. His funeral was today.

My uncle was a Purple Heart decorated Vietnam veteran. My aunts and uncles chose for him to receive a military burial. I hadn't been to a military funeral before today, so I wasn't sure what to expect.

This morning I woke to angry thunderstorms. Dark clouds blanketed the sky as torrents poured down. I drove down the road, mentally checking the backseat for my sweater and umbrella. "Great" I thought to myself. Just great. Funeral, in the rain, with Moose. Fantastic.

As I gingerly made my way south, the tiniest pocket opened in the clouds and a brilliant stream of sunlight kissed my cheeks through the car's window. There it was. Hope. Maybe today wouldn't be entirely awful, after all.

My father had flown in for the funeral, along with my most favorite aunt and uncle, and other relatives. I was greatly looking forward to seeing Joe and Lisa. My dad...not so much. There are years of history there. Years of hurts and betrayals. Things I cannot, should not share in such a public venue. We haven't spoken for years, except out of necessity. Spending time with dad would be painful and difficult for me. As much as I have prayed over the years for God to soften my heart and wash away all the hurts, to plant His forgiveness and love for my dad inside of me, it still had not come. It just hadn't come. And believe me, I have begged.

And with a heart loaded heavy with grief for my loss and anxiety for sharing this time with my father, I drove down the road dressed in a slate gray satin blouse and dark trouser jeans. I forgot to take my black dress to the cleaners after the wedding I wore it to a couple of weeks ago. This outfit would have to do, even though I felt bad for not being more dressed up and not covering myself in black from head to toe like a good Mexican in grief. That's how we roll. I had armed myself with waterproof mascara and a box of tissues.

As I exited the expressway and followed the sign towards the national cemetery, my thoughts drifted back to my grandmother's heart way back when. Bless her for being such an exceptional, strong woman. She sent her sons off to war, together. I imagined her back then, not knowing if she would get them back and my chest felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of me as my mother-love ached for how she must have felt. Her babies, gone. Maybe not coming back. As my car wound past the military installation, I thought of all the families who had children there now, maybe preparing for a trip to Afghanistan. Tears pricked my eyes for them. How brave. I'm not sure I could do it.

I wound and turned and followed the GPS for what felt like forever. I was dreading this. What was I dreading? Seeing my dad? Laying my uncle to rest? Hurting with my cousins and aunts and uncles? All of the above? Yes. All of the above.

I finally found the cemetery, tucked away in what could have been a nature preserve. The rain had stopped, though the clouds still loomed above. Dark and gloomy, fitting the emotion du jour. As I pulled in, a flag greeted me. I can only assume that this flag is perpetually flown at half mast, for this is a place of honor and grieving. The view still stung me. Flags at half mast always do. There is only one reason to fly a flag at half mast, there is only one message such a sight conveys: something terrible has happened. Life has been lost, and we are sad. We are so sad, we can only hoist this flag up halfway.

After waiting on the rest of the family and exchanging greetings and pleasantries, we were led in a procession towards a commitment shelter in the groves of trees. Me and my cousins and aunts and uncles followed each other past fields of headstones. They stood like a unit of perfect little white soldiers in formation, as far as the eye could see. All perfectly spaced, pristine white, lined up and going on and on and on. My breath caught in my throat and my heart ached a little bit as tears slid down my cheeks.

We arrived at the place where we would have our funeral. Cadets saluted as they were lined up in formation on each side of the outdoor shelter, with a small group of armed cadets to the left side. Three uniformed servicemen and women awaited, saluting, at the head of the shelter. And then I saw it. I saw grief in action, grief burdened heavily as my father and his brothers acted as pallbearers for my uncle. They lifted and pulled his casket, draped with the American flag, towards the head of the shelter. Fresh, hot tears sprang up. Such a burden, so heavy, to carry your brother like that. I had to look away. We filed into the rows of seating, and I sat beside my father. I did not want him to be alone now. The seed of forgiveness and love that I had asked for had been planted after all. Apparently, conditions have to be just right for that kind of seed to germinate.

We were warned that shots would be fired, and that it would be loud. We should cover our children's ears, and our own. Having only two hands, I covered Moose's ears and they fired. Covering his ears left my own naked for the assault on my senses. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The shots rippled through the air and vibrated through the ground, each one bringing forth more tears than the last. It was like a stabbing through my chest, shaking everything within me in a deep, visceral way. I hadn't noticed the trumpets until they started playing "Taps". My brain recollected the words from high school chorus:

Day is done,
Gone the sun,
From the lake
From the hills
From the sky.
All is well,
Safely rest;
God is nigh.

And then more tears came. The dressed soldiers lifted the flag from my uncle's casket and folded it up. The soldier in the center hugged it to his chest as he straightened the corners, and white-gloved hands presented it to my eldest uncle with a whisper of gratitude for my uncle's service to his country, and condolences for my family's loss. It was like a scene from a movie, each step and move perfectly orchestrated, with the rifle salute and the cadets and the uniformed service men and the white gloves. Except instead of it being actors there crying, it was my family. It was surreal.

Those Kleenex came in handy. I offered the box to my father at my left, took a few for myself and passed the box back to the weeping behind me. I placed my left hand in my dad's hand as he shook with sadness. The message was simple yet unspoken: Your feelings matter to me. I felt green sprouts unfurl from the seed in my heart. How odd, this juxtaposition of grief and growth at the same time. Life and death in harmony.

My cousin brought forth a bouquet of flowers and dissected it into individual blooms, presenting each of my uncle's siblings with one to set on the casket. My dad quickly handed me his. The message was simple yet unspoken: Your feelings matter to me. The roots of my little sprout grew stronger, as years of anger and bitterness crumbled away beneath it.

A priest offered his greeting, blessing and prayers and then sprinkled some holy water onto the casket, offering each of my uncle's siblings an opportunity to follow him with the same. First my aunt and her husband approached the casket, laying down their flower and sprinkling. Then my uncle and his wife. Then my favorite uncle, and his wife. And then I realized...my dad doesn't have a wife to go with him. I did not want him to be alone now. I went with him. After his little shake from the plastic holy flask, he handed it to me. I'm not Catholic, I don't do holy water, I whispered. Whatever. I shook the little bottle as officially as I could after resting my flower on the casket. It wasn't about the water. It was about doing it together, so I did it. Each of my other uncles and cousins quietly approached and sprinkled the casket, the priest said a closing prayer and blessing and we were done. The uncles were called upon again to transport the casket back to the hearse for transport to the plot. Again, I marveled at the physical and emotional strength required for this task. My poor dad. My poor uncles.

After our little service, we drove in procession again to my uncle's house. We sat and visited and ate and talked. Our kids played together and the uncles had a few beers together in the backyard and even if it was just for one quick afternoon, it was almost like when I was little and we visited at my grandma's house on a Sunday afternoon.

I took my dad home with me to stay with us for a few days while he's in town. Mister had a study group at 7, so after dropping him off there me and my dad and Moose went to dinner. We sat and talked and just kind of got to know each other a little bit again. It's been awhile. We don't really know each other anymore. It was good, though. Maybe we can start over again. Maybe he won't mess up so much this time. Maybe my seed has a chance.

Where is the love?

2009-05-29T14:46:00.002-04:00

Last night was our last shelter night of "the season". I don't know why there even *is* a "season". Is there some memo that goes out to the homeless people that at the end of May, nobody is homeless? (I missed that memo.) So don't even get me started on the season. It makes no sense to me.

I am both greatly relieved and also deeply saddened to be done. Coordinating the site was a major pain, I'm not gonna lie to you. But it was also a great experience for me and my family. It really helped me focus on all the good things I have in my life and everything I have to be grateful for, even when things are tough for us with no relief on the horizon.

I'm not sure our old church has the same passion for community service that my family has. It seemed to be a struggle each month to get adequate food and help for the shelter. In the end it was always outsiders, not church members who came through for us. This led to some deep feelings of what I will kindly call disenchantment with our old church. Hence, it is the old church and we have moved on to a new church whose passions and views align more closely with our own. As a matter of fact, our new church is the group that bailed us out last night when we came up short on food donations. Our new Pastor even cooked for us and brought over food that his family donated! Whereas, when I asked our old church if they could have our old Pastor make an announcement from the pulpit that we desperately needed help, I was told no because they save him "for the big stuff." Excuse me? We had 70 people at the shelter last night who were hungry and didn't have a place to call home. How does that not constitute "big stuff"?

A few of the guests last night were little ones. Small children, about Moose's age. I was setting the tables for dinner when I saw the families outside waiting to come in and I couldn't help but cry. That could be us with our little guy. It could have easily been us. I don't understand why the members of our old church community weren't more generous with their time and resources. Since we are not going to be attending our old church and since I feel so disappointed with trying to lead people towards compassion when they have no desire to do so, I will not be back as the old church's coordinator. Of course I didn't tell them that, I told them I might be moving so I was stepping down. Which is totally true - we still don't know where we'll land permanently. I'll instead be helping the shelter ministry through our new church while we're here in Naperville for as long as that may be. I'm happy that we will still have the opportunity to "have compassion, making a difference" by putting shoes on Christ's love and bringing it to people who need it.

I popped in to check and make sure everything was cleaned up and all the leftover food had been distributed to needy families in our community this morning. As I pulled out of the parking lot heading home, the Black Eyed Peas shuffled up on my iPod. And just like them, I'm wondering...where is the love?

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love, the love, the love?

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' our wrong direction...
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead of spreading love we're spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found
Now ask yourself

Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?

Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love?

I just gotta dance.

2009-05-24T12:07:00.005-04:00

My friend Michelle flew in last week for a quick visit. It was, perhaps, the best and most fun 46 hours I've had in a long time! Michelle wanted to see the sights of Chicago, so we took the train downtown and chased the landmarks she wanted to see. We walked Union Station, toured Navy Pier and rode the ferris wheel, saw Wrigley Field, had a drink at the Cubby Bear, stalked cupcakes in Lincoln Park, cruised the Mag Mile, passed Millennium Park and "the bean", then landed back at Union Station to say goodbye. As we left the cupcake place (Molly's, which was AMAZING and seriously everybody should go there!) we passed a cute little boutique with a hand painted decorative sign in the window that said, "Life isn't about waiting out the storm. It's about learning to dance in the rain." and I loved it. It made me realize that is what I've been doing lately. I'm trying to not stress, I'm trying to just enjoy life. Who knows what job Tim will get next. Maybe he'll have to travel a lot. So, I'm just trying to enjoy the family time that we have together. And right there, on the spot, as I read that plaque and it spoke to my core, I vowed...next time I rained, I was going outside to dance. It was Wednesday.

Last night, we were grilling out when I realized I had run out of barbecue sauce. Mon horreur! I zipped to the store, grabbed a couple bottles and ran out to the car. On my way back to the car, it started raining. It was one of those perfect, gentle spring rains that stopped as quickly as it had started. It just kind of cleaned the air and left that unmistakable fresh scent behind. As the rain kissed my cheeks while I dashed to the car, I remembered my promise to myself. So I did what any other perfectly rational, responsible 34 year old mother would do. I slipped into the car behind the wheel, turned the key, cranked up the radio, opened the windows and the sunroof and as I cruised home in the rain...I danced.

Oh wow, so much yum!

2009-05-13T10:23:00.002-04:00

I wanted bagels yesterday, but I didn't have any. I did, however, have flour, salt, sugar and yeast so I made my own. They are amazing. I won't be buying bagels again. Not when I can make my own that taste better than Panera!

Bread Machine Bagels

1-1/3 cups warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons white sugar
4 cups bread flour
1 tablespoon active dry yeast
16 cups boiling water
1/4 cup white sugar
cornmeal for dusting
egg white

1. Place water, salt, sugar, flour and yeast in the bread machine pan in the order recommended by the manufacturer. Select Dough setting.
2. When cycle is complete, let dough rest on a lightly floured surface. Meanwhile, in a large pot bring 16 c of water to a boil. Stir in 1/4 c of sugar.
3. Cut dough into 12 equal pieces, and roll each piece into a small ball. Flatten balls. Poke a hole in the middle of each with your thumb. Twirl the dough on your finger or thumb to enlarge the hole, and to even out the dough around the hole. Cover bagels with a clean cloth, and let rest for 30 minutes.
4. Sprinkle an ungreased baking sheet with cornmeal. Carefully transfer bagels to boiling water. Boil for 1 minute, turning half way through. Drain briefly on clean towel. Arrange boiled bagels on baking sheet. Glaze tops with egg white if desired, and sprinkle with your choice of toppings.
5. Bake in a preheated 375 degree F (190 degrees C) oven for 18 to 20 minutes, until browned.

My notes:

Check your dough while it mixes in the bread machine. I found that the amount of water noted here wasn't quite enough to make a good sticky dough to blend all the flour in. I ended up adding maybe a scant 1/4 c of warm water to my bread machine.

I divided my dough after it came out of the bread machine. I left half of the dough plain, and to the other half of the dough I gingerly kneaded in 1/2 t cinnamon and 1/4 c raisins.

On the plain bagels, after shaping and the second rising I sprinkled them with a mixture of sea salt and garlic powder with a blanket of shredded cheddar cheese on top.

I sprinkled the cinnamon raisin bagels with a dusting of cinnamon vanilla sugar prior to baking.

I did not glaze any of the bagels with egg white, and they came out lovely. Also, I simply greased my baking sheet instead of using cornmeal (I used all my cornmeal to kill the ants this Spring!) and the bagels weren't any worse for the wear.

Peace.

2009-04-30T09:13:00.002-04:00

It's here. Mister's last day of employment is here, and the silence is deafening. Is it wrong to feel a bit of relief? We still don't know what we're going to do or where we're going to go but it's a relief nonetheless.

The transition period was excruciating. It was like removing a very, very sticky band-aid very, very slowly. It was a pain of epic proportions. But it's done now, and there's a certain feeling of lightness and freedom from it all being finished.

I've been listening to a lot of music. Music speaks to me. I really connect with lyrics. Music has charms to soothe my savage breast, LOL. So I had the music going while I cleaned the kitchen yesterday, and I had a moment while listening to "Lose My Soul" (by TobyMac, with Kirk Franklin, and Mandisa). It had nothing to do with the fact that the song is a total jam and Mandisa has an incredible voice. It was actually a bit of spoken word at the end of the track that struck me:

Lord forgive us when we get consumed by the things of this world
That fight for our love, and our passion.
As our eyes are open wide and on you
Grant us the privilege of your world view,
And may your kingdom be
What wakes us up, and lays us down.

And then it hit me - what all was I so afraid of? Living in a smaller house? Driving a smaller car? Using more coupons? (Is that even possible, LOL?) What do I have that wasn't given me by my Father? Why would He bring me this far only to ditch me? What do I really have to be afraid of? Not much. I am ashamed but emotionally transparent enough to admit that my focus during this entire life change has been on how we won't be able to afford our current lifestyle, and how I would really not like to give that up. But really, what is that worth? Is it worth sacrificing closeness to my Savior while I focus on a comfortable life that distracts me from His purpose for my life?

So this morning, I drove Tim in to the train station. As we parked and waited for the train, we prayed together. With our family's checkbook clasped between his hand and mine, we left our struggle and worry and fear right there at the Father's feet. Everything we have is from Him. It's all His anyways. We'll let Him take care of us.

And then there was nothing but quiet in my mind and peace in my heart.

About Face!

2009-04-27T09:09:00.003-04:00

So yeah, my husband lost his job. Now what?

Well, for years I've had a dream of creating and selling my own product line. Because, well...I LOVE products. Please don't look at my bathroom, it's like a Sephora puked in there after a hurricane hit an Ulta.

The problem with my product addiction is that there really aren't many affordable natural/organic options for specific products I was looking for.

As a breast cancer survivor, I've long wrestled with the deodorant conundrum. Do I wear mainstream store bought deodorant and risk developing more problems or even worse, possibly Alzheimer's Disease? Or do I take the even bigger risk of using the "natural" stuff which sometimes fails me?

As a cloth diapering mother, I was on an endless search for the perfect diaper balm for my son. One that was cloth-diaper safe (would completely absorb into the skin or rinse completely clean from the diaper) and yet highly effective.

As a diabetic woman, I've struggled with chronic skin problems related to candida.

And, as a total girly girl, I've searched high and low for a lip gloss that is yummy, stays put but isn't too sticky, and isn't packed with petro chems for me (or my loved ones) to lick or kiss off.

So, what's a naturally-minded, tree hugging hippie product addict with a passion for kitchen creation to do? DUH. I hit the kitchen and started mixing up my own potions. It started innocently enough. My "natural" deodorant wasn't as effective and failproof as I'd like it to be, and then the ingredients started irritating my sensitive skin. As my sensitive, irritated skin broke, it fell victim to every woman's worst nightmare: yeast. I had a raging, flaming, burning infection in my armpit! After trying everything out there on myself, I finally concocted my own little balm to heal the skin. It worked! Based on that recipe, I branched out and developed an all natural, 99% organic, so-safe-my-two-year-old-could-EAT-it! deodorant. It's crazy effective, pampers the skin and keeps stank away better than anything else I've tried. Since I was getting good at this whole making my own skin creams stuff, I tried to formulate a diaper balm that I could use on my son's sensitive skin that would cooperate with cloth diapering. Hooray! Problem solved. And last, but not least, I merged everything I'd learned so far with all my trials and errors into a moisturizing and delicious lip gloss/balm. Booyah!

I was pretty excited about my little stash of potions because they solved a lot of problems for me. Then one night, my mom was over. She needed to go to CVS for a prescription. She told me she had a skin-based yeast infection in the crease of her stomach. Every c-section mama knows that crease. Unless you still have the super flat tummy of a 16 year old, you know that crease. Oh, my poor mother. She suffered through spraying alcohol based yeast medicines on that very sensitive and painful rash. I mixed up a small pot of my little yeastie beastie wonder balm for her. She was skeptical. She took it home, but insisted on using her torture cream from the drugstore. Until the night that the combined pain from her rash and the medicine kept her from sleeping! She got up in the middle of the night, scrubbed off that nasty chemical-laden cream that was scorching her skin and smoothed on a dab of my concoction. She said she felt the pain relief instantly as the soothing ingredients calmed her skin and fought the rash naturally. In the morning, her infection was gone and her skin nearly completely healed. She begged me to sell this stuff, as surely countless other people could benefit from it.

A few weeks later, I read Peter Bregman's article on cnn.com about Madame Alexander dolls and I was inspired. There it was. The slight kick in the pants that I needed: "Madame Alexander had a wise model for finding work. She started a business doing work she loved, with people she loved, solving a problem others were willing to pay money to have solved. It was a small company that took very little investment but gave her and others meaningful, sustainable work.

In other words, start a business in your kitchen with your sisters."

Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle started floating together. The best ex-boyfriend in the world sent me a post on Facebook telling me that if I ever started my own product line, he had the best name for it and I could use it if I wanted to. While it may or may not have come to him in a sangria-soaked moment, it was actually a pretty great name. I owe a heartfelt thank you to my devoted and supportive husband, my beautiful son, my mom, Mother Earth, CNN, sangria and Jaylo for developing the perfect storm of ideas.

I hardly expect the sales of my products to replace my family's former income. But the idea of "meaningful, sustainable work" appeals to me greatly. Beyond that, I'm a giver...a sharer by nature. I can't wait to share the great stuff I've made with the rest of the world. I can't wait to help others out with the same problems I've struggled with. When I was working as a certified massage therapist, I found the work very rewarding and personally fulfilling as I took great delight in healing people's pain with nothing but my hands. I see these products as an extension of my passion for helping people. And so, About Face Naturals was born.

About Face isn't only about, you know, the face. Granted, I have one tiny product that is intended for facial application. In the future, I'd like to develop more products intended for facial use. About Face is an attitude - an invitation, if you will. Forget everything you know about using mainstream products to take care of your skin, forget supporting huge corporations with your hard earned money, forget applying products with toxic ingredients, and forget spending a fortune on them. Turn about face from all of that nonsense, and try something completely different.

Packaging is on order, website is parked and under construction, product labels are being designed. My goal is to be up and running in about a month's time. Get ready to experience About Face Naturals.

The sinking of my Titanic

2009-04-26T22:06:00.003-04:00

For the past few years, I've been blessed with an easy and financially worry-free life. I've had everything I could have wanted, or asked for, and then some. I've been comfortable with money to spare. I've been on both sides of the coin in my life - I've had next to nothing, and I've had my cup running over. I could deal with a happy medium, but for the past few years it has been lovely to just live and enjoy it without worry for the next day. It's been a lovely cruise of comfort, security and material success.

And then we hit an iceberg. It was a horrific, violent crash and the ship has been sinking ever-so-slowly since. We're in the last days of sinking...I'm feeling frantic and frightened.

My friend Brandi described her family's experience with the very same thing as this...you run around, screaming and scared and you try as best you can to bail out the water but it keeps on coming in faster than you can dig out. So you become even more terrified, yelling and clawing and scurrying about...until finally, you bail into the tiny and frail life raft (that you're not sure can safely get you to shore) and see the balance of your cruise ship sink into the dark abyss.

Glug glug glug.

And just like that, your strong ship of success and security is gone without a trace.

And then the screaming stops. There is nothing left but you and your family, and an ocean of overwhelming possibilities and fear. You float on, getting seasick at times, and all around you is a deafening cloud of silence that overcomes you. There is no crying anymore, no more yelling and no more of that anxious and evil anticipation that ate a hole through your stomach. It all just kind of floats away. Because it's here now - the day you had been dreading, the dawn whose threat has kept you awake at night and stolen your appetite, motivation and energy during the day. It's here now, and there's no denying it and no more fighting it. It's here, so you learn to work with it and peacefully co-exist with it until a rescue boat finds you or you find a shore.

I am so emotionally spent from months of worry and fear. I feel sad to say that at this point, the final sinking is almost a welcome release from the anxiety and dread that has ruled over my life for months.

Come, sea! Come, future! Come quickly and take me with you. Come quickly and show us the next stop on our journey. The sooner the ship sinks, the faster we are free to row away together in our tiny life raft to an exciting new chapter in our lives. I'm ready to transition into whatever the future holds. Just get me off this ship.

This inspired me today

2009-04-18T01:09:00.002-04:00

Wait And See - Brandon Heath

In particular, these lyrics:

There is hope for me yet
Because God won't forget

All the plans he's made for me
I have to wait and see
He's not finished with me yet

Still wondering why I'm here
Still wrestling with my fear
But oh, He's up to something

And the farther on I go
I've seen enough to know
That I'm, not here for nothing
He's up to something

Revelations

2009-04-15T17:16:00.003-04:00

Lately I've felt so harried and alone. I find myself doing many things, but none of them well. I'm spread so thin I seem to vanish in my surroundings. I'm no longer a person with a purpose.

As I flounder amiss, I barely have time to notice how imperfect I am. How lost I am. How profoundly confused I feel. That is, I don't notice until the dark of night, when all is quiet in the house and I lie quietly in the dark while it closes in around me and I start to feel I'm suffocating. I'm so overwhelmed. It's then that I cry out, confused and concerned and weak..."God, why are you doing this to us? Please just take care of us. I try to give You so much, I don't understand why You're taking our security away." And I weep quietly into my pillow, so nobody else hears me and before I know it I'm waking the next day with swollen eyes and an aching head. So it goes, each night.

I feel I'm losing hope. The end of the month is closer than I'd like it to be, and Mister still doesn't have a solid lead on a job. What will we do? No really, what will we do? Where will we live? Should we just move somewhere, anywhere, and see what happens? Should we still go to Atlanta? Was the point of that entire exercise just to get us to be willing to go? Is the point of this whole long, weary journey towards unemployment to get me to loosen my grasp on my life? Why is this happening? I want to scream and stomp and throw a tantrum and cry and shake my fists in the air and holler, "Throw me a freaking bone here! Tell me what You want me to do!" I am so frustrated.

And then there's my ministry with the shelter. The end of the season is nearly here and I can almost taste the sweet, sweet freedom from the burden of my commitment. Each month it's a struggle to get food donated and people to volunteer. Church of thousands in an incredibly affluent community, and I can't get people to sign up to bring a pan of taco meat, or serve breakfast. Are you kidding me? I am SO OVER it. I just want to get to the end, I just want it to be done. I will fulfill what I said I would do to the end of the season and then I am OUT. I'm just so done with the whole noise.

But every once in a while, I hear the tiniest whisper of affirmation from Heaven...

"I'm taking care of you" it says.

"Just be patient, a little while longer. Direction will come when you're ready. But I promise I'll take care of you." And then it's gone, in an instant, just as fast as the whisper breezed in through the windows it floats right out again and it all happens so quickly I'm never quite sure I heard it right.

The other day, Mister found The Best, Most Perfect job for him ever. EVER.

"I'm taking care of you."

I think I heard it. It was quiet and low, almost like the hum of the refrigerator at midnight. It was here, and then it was gone.

This morning, I got a call that miraculously almost all of our shelter volunteer positions will be filled by new helpers next week.

"I'm taking care of you"

The voice washed in through the window of the Jeep as I headed towards the grocery store. But I had the window open, and the voice swished right out in a heartbeat, before I could grab on to it.

So I turned on the radio, and this song was on. This song, that my friend told me to listen to, oh...about 2 months ago. When this all started going down. I hadn't heard it until today. I guess I just hadn't heard it until I needed to hear it. As lyrics and melody flooded the interior of my car, I felt enveloped in comfort, peace and hope like never before. I felt as if someone had dropped me into the dunk tank at the county fair, all of a sudden it was there, all around me...the clear and gentle promise that I have not been alone all along and what was it again? Oh yes...

"I'm taking care of you."

Revelation
Third Day

My life has led me down the road that’s so uncertain
And now I am left alone and I am broken,
Tryin’ to find my way, tryin’ to find the faith that’s gone

This time, I know that you are holding all the answers
I’m tired of losing hope and taking chances,
On roads that never seem,
To be the ones that bring me home

Give me a revelation,
Show me what to do
Cause I’ve been tryin’ to find my way,
I haven’t got a clue
Tell me should I stay here,
Or do I need to move
Give me a revelation
I’ve got nothing without You
I’ve got nothing without You

My life has led me down this path that’s ever winding
Through every twist and turn I’m always finding,
That I am lost again (I am lost again)
Tell me when this road will ever end
Give me a revelation,
Show me what to do
Cause I’ve been tryin’ to find my way,
I haven’t got a clue
Tell me should I stay here,
Or do I need to move
Give me a revelation
I’ve got nothing without You
I’ve got nothing without

I don’t know where I can turn
Tell me when will I learn
Won’t You show me where I need to go
Oh oh
Let me follow Your lead,
I know that it’s the only way that I can get back home

Give me a revelation,
Show me what to do
Cause I’ve been trying to find my way,
I haven’t got a clue
Tell me should I stay here,
Or do I need to move
Give me a revelation
I’ve got nothing without You
I’ve got nothing without You

Oh, give me a revelation

I’ve got nothing without You
I’ve got nothing without You

Dinner and a show

2009-03-26T22:57:00.002-04:00

So, most of my friends know Mister. Mister is a very kind, generous, gentle, brilliant person. Sometimes he's so brainy he fails to be smart.

Tonight was our night at the homeless shelter and Mister came home from work early to make sure we could make it there on time. Mister also had a job interview today with a recruiter (who blew him off - why are people so flaky?). So he had dressed up in nice slacks and dress shoes and asked me to please bring him jeans and his tennies. No problem.

So my brother helped pack up the car with Moose, all the food donations from us and our friends, Tim's clothes, snacks for Moose, etc. We picked Mister up at the train station and headed towards the church where we host the shelter. After unloading all the food donations, Mister headed back to the car to get his clothes. Thinking he was alone, he decided to just change beside the Jeep in the church parking lot. So he steps out of his dress slacks, bends into the Jeep to grab his jeans, looks up only to see a NUN watching him change while "reading" her Bible in her car. Apparently she put on her glasses to watch the show!

That's right, folks. Mister is now so desperate for a new job that he's stripping for nuns in the church parking lot. *sigh* Shake what your mama gave ya, I guess. ;)

I get by with a little help from my friends

2009-03-07T21:33:00.002-05:00

I have been blessed with some of the best friends in the world. I hardly think it's because as a child I was wise enough to surround myself with good people that I knew would be by my side for life. I just got lucky. Really, REALLY lucky.

There's Jen, who grew up across the street from me. I've known her since I was four. She sent me some passes to the resort water park that she is the Controller of, so my family would have a cheap little getaway. How awesome is that?

There's Brandi, who I met in Bible college, and is one of the dearest friends of my heart. She lives miles and miles away, but is only ever a phone call away. She's going through the same thing we are right now, they've just been on the U.S.S. Unemployment Failboat for a longer cruise than we have. She's been there to love and support me with prayers and wisdom that my heart needed. Whatever would I do without my Branmuffin? I don't even want to think about it.

There's Liz, who I met through our parenting group. Her kids love playing with Moose, when we get together they pretty much babysit themselves. She's been there to listen to me cry even when I'm crying so hard she probably can't even understand what I'm saying. When Tim lost his job, she brought over a gigantic bottle of Shiraz, and sat with me, listened to me, and cared for me when I felt so very much alone and small and afraid.

And last but far from least, there's Chris. Chris, who has been my friend since high school, and just might be the smartest person I know. Chris, who has taught me the ways of the Coupon Jedi. Without Chris, I don't know how we would eat. Seriously. When we add up unemployment income then subtract rent and our car note and utilities there isn't a speck of money left for food or milk. But with couponing, there's a way. She even took a day off of work this past week and went shopping with me. I've been so deeply depressed I couldn't make heads or tails out of how to work the deals. She walked with me through the store, loaded the cart with me and then as I stood in produce, looking at the cart's contents, struggling with how to check out best in order to minimize how much I spent out of pocket, she patiently waited with me while I shook my head and sat, puzzled. Then, she went through the checkout for me and patiently rang my orders for me, handing me fistfuls of catalinas good for more free food. She took me to Super Target, and pressed a stack of coupons for $2 off of meat into my hands (that was on sale for $2.49 a pound, find the right package and it's nearly free). I can barely fit any more into my freezer. I have 12 dinners worth of angus beef for less than $10, thanks to Chris. As we parted to go home from the Jewel parking lot, I hugged her and thanked her for teaching me how to still feed my family. Seriously, I don't know how we'd make it without knowing how to work the deals the way Chris has taught me.

I'm so thankful for my friends.

Joe Dirt Joe Dirt Joe Dirt. Or, Welcome to my Emotional Garbage Can.

2009-03-04T14:48:00.003-05:00

This is how I've been feeling lately. I feel like I was staring at the Grand Canyon, enjoying the most beautiful place on earth, and then I turned around only to find that I had been abandoned by The One who was always supposed to be there for me.

It's all of my worst fears realized. I can't stop crying. I am terrified. I feel so alone. I sat in my car, crying the other day, parked outside of CVS with Moose sleeping in the back and I was just overwhelmed. I cried and cried and cried and stared up at the sky, asking "Do You even see me? Do You even know I'm here? Don't You see me hurting? Don't You care that I'm afraid? Where are You? Why have You left me all alone?" Seriously, I don't understand. Why is God doing this to me?

I've started having the stereotypical nightmares about losing my teeth. Apparently, this dream means you're worried about losing all your money. ORLY? Ya don't say.

I feel like I'm clawing, clinging to the tiny crumbs of hope that God brushes off His table to me, here on the ground. Why is He only letting me have the crumbs?

I keep paddling and kicking and crying and screaming in a sea of overwhelming sorrow. I'm praying that one day I'll look up, and realize that this pool I've been struggling in was in the palm of my Father's hand the whole time. It certainly doesn't feel like it right now.

I would like to go back to coordinating the homeless shelter now. Not, you know, figuring out how to move into it.

Please, God...can't You make this just a tiny bit easier?

Kropsua - Finnish Oven Pancake

2009-02-28T10:40:00.002-05:00

Growing up, this was one of my favorite weekend breakfasts that my mom made. I recently started making it for my own family, and it's just as heavenly!

Apologies in advance to my gluten-free friends. If you ever decide to go on a gluteny goodness bender, let me know. I will make this for you. It will hurt so good!

Oven: 385

4 eggs
2 c milk
1/2 t salt
1 T sugar
1/2 vanilla
3/4 c butter
1 1/3 c flour

Set oven to 385, then place a 12x18 baking pan (with at least 1" sides) in the oven. Slice 1/2 c butter onto pan, leave in oven to melt while you mix the ingredients together.

Beat eggs, then slowly add milk, salt, sugar (I use demerara sugar, which gives a lovely rich taste and adds a little crunch to the top of the pancake) and vanilla. Slowly add in flour in 1/3 c increments, blending while you add. Lastly, melt the remaining 1/4 c butter and add into mixture while beating. Pour mixture into heated pan and bake for 30 to 35 minutes. Cut into squares and serve hot with a drizzle of maple syrup and a dollop of whipped cream. Yum!

Don't cry for me, Naperville Costco

2009-02-25T20:08:00.003-05:00

I know what you're thinking.

"Oh, look at that poor, sad woman. She's eating a HOT DOG for dinner, ALL ALONE!"

But I say to you, don't pity my perceived plight. I did, in fact, leave a hot, homecooked meal at home for this hot dog and I am indeed alone. But my oh my, what glorious solitude it is! Here, in the Costco food court, there is no husband injecting my brain with more worries for our future, our jobless future. Here there is no annoying (albeit precious) toddler screaming "Mahhhhhmmmmmmmm!!!!!!" until I read his mind and fetch him a book, a snack, a drink, a diaper or a cartoon.

Here there is just me and my huge hot dog and my diet coke. I enjoy it with relish.

Empty and angry...

2009-02-23T12:51:00.005-05:00

...is how I am feeling right now. My husband, who has spent the past 6 months waiting for the axe to drop, got his notice of termination today. He will stay on staff to transition his job (to whom? that's what I wanna know) until the end of March. He gets 3 weeks severance and his 4 weeks of accrued personal time off paid out, and then that's that. As of May 15, my family will no longer have any income unless one of us magically gets a job by then.

Mister is brilliant and dedicated. He would have worked 20 hours a day, 7 days a week (8 days on a good week!) if I hadn't nagged him to spend time with the family. He's been on this job for four years, and seen the company through from its inception to its current state. He's poured everything he has into that job. And they just took him out with the trash. Is there no loyalty in this world anymore?

While I'm thankful for the 3 weeks of severance pay, only 3 weeks is an insult compared to the work he has put into that job. I'm both curious and terrified to find out how much COBRA is going to cost us. I'm hopeful it's less than the $1,000 a month that my insulin will cost us out of pocket if we have no insurance. After I am done with this blog post, I think I'll call Comcast and cancel everything but our broadband. We'll live on Hulu and a (downgraded) Netflix subscription. Hooray for free streaming. Maybe I should cancel our YMCA membership too. But if I do that, where will I find my zen? Probably not on Hulu.

We'll most likely end up moving for his next job, and that's fine. I'm done living in this hellhole of snooty people who think they're better than others just because they live in Naperville. La-dee-da. Worst case scenario, we'll end up moving to the beach house. And there are worse things than living in a brand new 4 bedroom home on the ocean, right?

But still.

I hate uncertainty.

I hate feeling helpless.

I hate worrying about what I'm going to do when we're broke and I need milk for the baby.

I'm scared.

I'm so scared that my heart feels like it's shaking inside of my chest and I can barely breathe through the hot tears streaming down my cheeks. All the Bible verses trapped in my head, etched into my brain courtesy of years of Christian school and Bible college come rushing back to me but right now I am so hurt and upset that they. mean. nothing.

"Consider the sparrow"

"I know the plans I have for you"

"God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory"

"We walk by faith, not by sight"

The words swirl around, rattling inside my head and while I know them all and somewhere in the back of my heart, I vaguely believe that they're true...right now those promises feel so hollow. Oh me of so little faith. If I weren't so angry, I'd be embarrassed.

I'm angry. I'm very, very angry.

I'm angry at the old CEO who used the company as his own personal piggy bank and brought them to the brink of bankruptcy, taking with him a big, fat bonus check while he laughed all the way to the bank. I'm angry at his greed.

I'm angry at myself, for being a full time mother when I could be out earning a paycheck and then at least we'd have the security of a small second income to tide us over. Is it possible that somewhere, tucked deep inside a hidden corner of my heart, where I do not dare to look, that I am angry at my husband? I don't know. I don't think there's anything he could have done to prevent the inevitable. He's a victim of the situation.

I'm angry at the unfairness of it all. I'm angry that they couldn't have offered him a pay cut or reduction to part time or any other compromise.

I'm angry that they let him go, him the breadwinner with the wife and small child, and kept the single guy with the McMansion. The single guy who doesn't know how to do half of what Tim does, yet manages to make more money.

I'm angry at every raise and bonus that was promised to Tim, yet was never delivered.

I'm angry that I have this stupid chronic disease that makes my life so much more difficult and expensive.

I want to scream, I want to punch someone, I want to throw myself onto my bed and weep but I can't. I have to keep it together, and somehow I am supposed to levelheadedly mother my son when I have no levelheadedness at all.

Life should be more fair. I'm just sayin'. Good people should have good things happen to them, bad people should have bad things happen to them. I work hard to be a good wife and mom and sister and church member and friend. My husband works hard to be a good man and mate and father and employee and community member. We're good people. And *this* is our reward?

I'm angry that life is so unfair.

Give 'em a boost!

2009-02-20T11:50:00.003-05:00

We love our cloth diapers, but most of what we have Moose has outgrown and I need to sell them off to upsize (if I can find diapers big enough for this giant child) and a little over a month ago there was a killer deal on Pampers that I just couldn't resist (they were paying me to take them out of the store!). I stocked up.

Moose still night (bottle) nurses, and as a result he has some giant overnight pees. I am loathe to wake everyone up, turn on the lights, and change him in the night but I didn't have a lot of choice if I didn't want to wake up in a sloppy, soaked bed. He even outpees a Huggies Overnight diaper. Overnight urination is his super power. If scientists find that the answer to global warming is large puddles of piss, my son can cure climate change in one night. Fo reals, yo.

Enter diaper doublers. These were a wonderful little invention. They were like sanitary napkins, the old school kind that your grandmother wore with a special little belt to keep it in place. But instead of using a belt, you just lay them inside of the diaper and two or three of them were enough to boost the absorbency just enough to get us through a long car ride or overnight.

They were wonderful. Until the Tyco corporation disassembled the equipment that makes Diaper Doublers.

I then started using a gDiaper insert, rolled into quarters, stuffed into the front of my son's diaper and then putting a second diaper on top of that. (When the diapers are free, who cares if you use two at a time?) That was unreliable, sometimes that leaked too. It was also pretty expensive. gDiaper refills aren't cheap!

And then....a stroke of genius hit in the hygiene aisle. I perused the Depends and Poise pads, wondering if they would work as a diaper doubler even though they have a plastic, waterproof bottom. I was seriously considering getting an Xacto knife and surgically removing the plastic waterproof layer to see if that would work, and wondering if that would make all the SAP jelly end up all over my son's huevos. And all of a sudden, there was a bright bolt of lightning, a clap of thunder, and the heavens open with a glorious golden light, the angels sang and I saw this: Depend Boost. WHAT????

Perhaps mothers everywhere have known about these booster pads forever, and if they have I am seriously going to rough up all of my Mama friends for not telling me about them! These things are a godsend! Just one in a regular diaper gives amazing absorbency. They're made for adult sized bladders so they soak up a ton! They are the size of a large maxi-pad, but without wings. They kind of flare out at the ends in an hourglass shape. They are designed to go into an adult undergarment to boost the absorbency, so there is no plastic underlayer to block wetness from flowing through to a layer underneath. There is also a sticky little peel off strip to keep it in place, a vast improvement over the shifty little diaper doublers I used to use. I can see these fitting into diapers size 3 and up.

I picked up a pack of 20 of them for about $5. I will be repurchasing these little wonders. I know they have super absorbent polymers in them, and I'm sure they're bleached with chlorine. But you know what? Washing the bedding every freaking morning sucks. The ozone layer is just going to have to take one for the team here.

Everything I need to know about life, I can learn from my two year old

2009-01-07T11:08:00.004-05:00

Moose inspires me. His heart is so pure. He loves unconditionally, forgives immediately, and brightens every day.

This song came up on shuffle this morning while I was getting dressed. It was written by a father, to and about his child. I love it. (Listen here).

You Ruined Everything
by Jonathan Coulton

I was fine
I pulled myself together
Just in time
To throw myself away
Once my perfect world was gone I knew
You ruined everything
In the nicest way

You should know
How great things were before you
Even so
They’re better still today
I can’t think of who I was before
You ruined everything
In the nicest way

Bumps in the road remind us
The worst of the best behind us
Only good things will find us
Me and you

Days will be clear and sunny
We’re gonna need more money
Baby you know it’s funny
All those stories

Coming true
Despite my better efforts
It’s all for you
The worst kind of cliche
I’ll be with you till the day you leave
You ruined everything
In the nicest way

I would put myself at like an orange or a blue belt for...

2009-01-04T02:45:00.001-05:00

...my super awesome kung fu ninja style couponing. The stores never know what hit them. They never saw it coming!

Tonight's kill:

transaction 1:
2 packs pampers
2 packs wipes
total due after coupons: $13.18
with $20 back in coupons after the transaction
total profit: $6.82

transaction 2:
3 - 6 packs of 24 oz bottles Coke Zero
3 - 6 packs of 24 oz bottles Cherry Coke
1 vitamin water
total due after coupons: $2.42
with $15 back in coupons after the transaction
total profit: $12.58

transaction 3:
5 boxes honey nut cheerios
1 box multigrain cheerios
3 vitamin waters
total due after coupons: $1.03
with $15 back in coupons after the transaction
total profit: $13.97

transaction 4:
1 1/2 dozen eggs
1 gallon milk
2 boxes multigrain cheerios
2 boxes multigrain total
5 boxes cocoa puffs
total due after coupons: $5.64
with $15 back in coupons after the transaction
total profit: $9.36

And tomorrow, I'll go out and do it all over again! (Gotta roll those $15 in coupons into another purchase.) Yippee!

Now you see why I call this sale "The Big Kill". Phat mad props to my Sensei, Coupon Chris.

Others

2008-12-25T23:32:00.001-05:00

It was another great night at the shelter tonight. I learned something about myself this evening: it's only when I humble myself and serve those who have nothing that I truly become great. I do a lot of things in my daily life, but the times when I really feel I'm shining is when I'm doing something to help someone else. Ironic, huh? I have to become nothing in order to really be something.

This train of thought brought to mind the following poem, which I scrawled into the back pages of my Bible when I was about 16...

"Others"
Lord, help me live from day to day
In such a self-forgetful way,
That even when I kneel to pray,
My prayer shall be for Others

Help me in all the work I do
To ever be sincere and true,
And know, that all I do for You
Must needs be done for Others

Let "Self" be crucified and slain,
And buried deep and all in vain,
May efforts be to rise again,
Unless to live for Others

And when my work on earth is done,
And my new work in Heaven's begun,
May I forget the crown I've won,
While thinking still of Others

Others Lord, yes, Others
Let this motto be,
Help me live for others
That I may live for Thee.

I didn't eat dinner tonight (was too busy) but my heart is happy and full and satisfied with this feeling of wholeness and light that only comes on shelter night. I'm so thankful for the opportunity God has given me to serve those in my community who are struggling. I'm so blessed to be able to put shoes on Jesus' love and take it to people who don't have a place to call home. What a beautiful way to celebrate the birth of Christ, who offers abundant life to all who call on Him.

Why I really can't live in a place that doesn't get snow

2008-12-24T09:47:00.002-05:00

My town is covered in a thick, white blanket this morning and it looks so beautiful to me. In the wee hours before anyone's disturbed it, it's a perfect, glistening covering that takes my breath away.

And maybe it's because I went to college in northeastern Wisconsin, where I experienced some of my lifetime's deepest spiritual growth but snow always, always deeply resonates in my heart. Snow is my perfect visual metaphor of God's perfect grace...it covers all, fully. And even when it's disturbed you can still see it there. Even when it's sullied and ground beneath our trampling, it's still there. Even when we shun it, and try to move it out of our way, it's still there...looming large on the periphery, waiting for us to climb atop it and see the world from a higher perspective. Sometimes it comes down in large, fluffy chunks that look like bits of pillow in your hand. Sometimes it comes down almost imperceptibly, gently kissing your cheeks with a little reminder that winter is bigger than you. Sometimes the conditions aren't right for it yet, and it doesn't stick to the ground. That never stops it from trying again. Sometimes it's poured down on us so heavily we can't believe it. And then Spring comes, and as the cover of white melts away, it brings verdant new life. Tulips and daffodils spring up, their blossoms heralding the first signs of warmer, sunny days ahead.

But it all starts with snow, that perfect and pure blanket of truth that covers my world and reminds me how grace covers me and all imperfections in me completely, as far as the eye can see.

We need to wake up, get out, and go play in the grace. I mean snow.

Bonnie and Clyde go couponing

2008-11-15T16:16:00.002-05:00

I've finally decided to apply myself to something and learn the ways of the Coupon Jedi. My friend "Coupon Chris" has taken me under her wing to teach me the ropes and share the secrets of her success.

I'll admit, for a long time I didn't really get her coupon zeal. She's kind of crazy about it. Most psychiatrists would diagnose her as a hoarder. She has such a stockpile of toiletries and non-perishable food that should The Bomb be dropped on Chicago, I am heading straight to Chris' because she has enough stuff to keep us all fed and bathed for quite some time. She told me that it helps her feel secure, that she knows her family will never starve. I understood that to some degree. Chris scurries from store to store in all her free time, racking up the deals and paying only pennies on the dollar for everything. Actually, now she is so advanced into the Coupon Jedi Knighthood that if she doesn't make money off of the deal, she shuns it. God forbid she actually pays for food! So I finally got curious enough one day and asked her to teach me.

After reading her super secret Coupon Guild message board (her husband calls it her "Masons Board" because when you coupon hardcore like this it's kind of like a cult) and a few chats to get my bearings, Tim took me for my first excursion. It was exhilarating! It was like that Queen Latifah movie with Katie Holmes and Diane Keaton where they rob the mint and get away with it. They paid me to take the stuff! And I walked out with $20 towards my next go at it! Saving money like this is like crack. Just one hit, and I was hooked. After that first trip Thursday night, I was jonesing for my next hit before my head hit the pillow. After Tim witnessed the miracle of working the deals like a symphony, he was into it. He started singing "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta" (from the movie "Office Space") every time we walked into a store. Friday night we went to dinner and did our regular mandatory non-deal shopping then hit a few Jewels. It still wasn't enough for me after we got home with a tired baby so I dropped the boys off and hit a couple more Jewels by myself.

This morning, we set out again. We're on a mission to get all the cocoa mix and send it to Sam, my friend that I've known since we were about 10, who lives in Guam, and pays exorbitant prices for all groceries because it's all shipped in to her glorious island home. Sam has hot cocoa for blood, she lives on the stuff. Jewel is paying me to take it out of the store, so I'm getting Sam as much cocoa as I can.

We hit every Jewel from Naperville to Elburn this morning. Tim's so cute, he came up with code names for us. He calls me Honey Bear (a reference to my honey pimping to our local co-op group) and he's Big Papa. With the little guy, it's kind of a pain to unload everybody to go see if they have the deal we want, so we were taking turns going in to scout out the shelves. He'd zip in and call me, "Honey Bear, it's Big Papa. The Eagle has landed, I repeat the Eagle has landed." And I'd be like, "Alpha Team, move in! Empty the shelf! We'll rendevous in Aisle 5!" We had a ton of fun. Naperville...all 4 stores....Aurora, St. Charles, Elburn and back. We have enough cooking oil, peanut butter and hot cocoa mix to feed a small army (and the nice boys at the Elburn Jewel offered to order me up a few more cases of cocoa...tee hee!)

I think I may have spent about $10 for the over $100 worth of stuff that now clutters my dining room table. My favorite transaction was the one where my total due was 18 cents, and the machine spit out a $10 off your next order coupon. After today's shopping I walked out with $20 in coupons to be used on my next shopping trip. So, basically I made money and even covered the gas we burned to do it. And I can't wait to do it all over again. I don't care that basically my guest room is now going to be my Stockpile of Extra Groceries Room. Tim's natural bent towards frugality makes him the perfect sidekick for my bargain hunting adventures. We had such a blast today.

I've got a new drug.

My name is Felicia, and I'm addicted to shopping for free groceries. Can I borrow your Preferred Card?

Reflections on an election

2008-11-05T13:49:00.001-05:00

Wow.

That was an amazing thing to witness.

For my family, the journey towards our vote on November 4th started in early 2007. As I carefully waded through the policies of all the potential candidates, I found myself coming back again and again to this Obama guy. He was different. He was young and energetic. His public speaking was electrifying. His policies were solid. As I searched more and more, I grew more and more disenchanted with the current political climate and hungered for something more. Something different. I opened my mind to options beyond my historically regular straight Republican ticket voting and saw something pretty on the other side. The day I stumbled across the Republicans for Obama organization, it was all over. I signed up, and have been working as the volunteer leader for my state's RFO chapter ever since. My vote had found a home.

Here's the thing, kids - at the top of my list of Things I Value As An American is one simple, two syllable word: "freedom". As an American, I am free to own as many Bibles or religious materials as I want. I am free to talk about my faith openly. I am free to worship as I wish, pray to who I want to, and financially support the church of my choosing. I know that if I hope to keep these lovely freedoms that I've known all my life, I must also protect the freedoms of others. And they may be freedoms I don't agree with.

So, why did I vote for Obama? How could I have been so duped? Well...

I want a drastic change from our current leadership.
I do not trust an adulterer and his corrupt, drug addict wife.
The thought of a Palin presidency makes me pee myself like a nervous chihuahua. She's not ready.
I do not want a 100 year war. I want Jessica Smith (and thousands of babies just like her) to spend her first year growing securely attached to both of her parents - not just her mama, because daddy's been stop-gapped.
Our education system needs revision and our communities need renewal. Obama's plan of meshing the two together makes sense to me. Let kids work to make their world a better place and we'll provide them the education to advance their ideas.
Our families need support.
Our businesses need support. Companies cannot be encouraged to send more jobs offshore. We need that "Made in the USA" pride back.
We need jobs created.
We need energy independence for survival. We need investment in on-shore emerging technologies.
We need international diplomacy by a level-headed leader.
We need social security reform and protection.
We need to support the infirm and aging.
We need to honor and care for our veterans.
We need to protect all of our freedom for everybody.
We need equality for all.

In the end, I want what all people want. I want what all parents want, too...a better life for their children. When I would get tired of making calls or canvassing door to door, I would look down at my sweet little boy and see the hope and innocence in his eyes. He doesn't know how bad it is. But he trusts me to make it better. So I'd make one more round of calls, or give one more interview representing Republicans for Obama, or knock on one more block of homes. This kid is counting on me.

Last night, as I tucked him into bed I kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "We did it, my Moose. We did it, and I did it all for you." I pray he will somehow remember last night. History was made. The political climate was changed. Millions of people stood in line to make their voice heard. Millions of people believe that we can repair where our country is broken. Millions of people have been roused from their laziness and worked to inaugurate a revolution of positive change.

The deep rooted cancer in American society cannot and will not be changed by our nation's next President. Or the next one or the next one or the next one. God's people need to wake up, put their shoes on, and take the love of God to those who need it. While I'm excited about the remarkable victory of my candidate, I know that President-elect Obama is no Savior. He can only do so much. But what he's done in this election has been heartening. People have been encouraged and mobilized to work and reach out and spread the word and hope and wait and expect change to come. Hopefully some of that positive momentum will be infused into our churches and homes, and we can get out there and continue to impact the world.

As Americans, we are free to dream as big as we want to dream and work as hard as we possibly can and we can wholly expect that our dreams and hard work will be honored and rewarded. As Christians, we know that the only true Savior of the world has been here once, and He will return again. While we wait it is our duty to work hard, love others, and share God's truths. We know that only God has the power to change the world. This election is a place for us to launch from. Let's leave the "king's heart in the hand of the Lord" and get busy with what we can do to make our world a better place. We don't have any room and we don't have any time for bitterness or anger here. The election is over, God has spoken. This is where all Christians need to get on board...for with God, all things are possible.

Peace.

Where'd my baby go?

2008-10-09T10:07:00.002-04:00

I woke Jackson up this morning, and he lazily rolled onto his back and stretched like a lazy cat snoozing on a warm, sunny windowsill. As his pajama shirt crept up his tummy, I noticed something...different. Baby pudge is melting away. His round little tummy is becoming long and lean. There is nothing about him that is a "baby" anymore. He is 100% "boy". He loves playing with cars and watching bugs scoot across the pavement. He's so independent and strong. He's talking more each day. We don't understand a lot of what he says but he sure does have a lot to say.

We drove Daddy to the train station and as Jackson gave Tim a hug and a kiss goodbye he said, "Ah da doo" which, translated is "I love you". He melts my heart, this boy.

Boxing with the Devil

2008-10-04T23:47:00.005-04:00

I've had a little time to crawl off into my cave and lick my wounds from all this church group stuff, and I've come to a few conclusions:

1) My husband is right. From the beginning, he told me flat out - this wasn't about spanking or not spanking, this wasn't about them rejecting me, this was about God wanting to do amazing things with my life and Satan trying to stop Him. I imagine the scene so vividly...Lucifer saunters into God's presence as smoothly as one can when you cannot even look upon the glory of the Lord, and he points at me and says, "So, you think that girl is going to bring more people to You? That crazy girl with the pink hair? You must be kidding. I've seen her turn her back on You before. She holds a grudge, she gets angry and bitter. Some day, someone will cross her and she will take it out on You." And Jesus says, "No, she's grown. She's mine, and I'm changing her." And Satan says, "Allright, then. Let's just see if what you say is true." And so it started - round one, ring the bell. Ding, ding. Satan hit me with a nasty left hook.

2) I have a magic Bible. Okay, I know that's highly unlikely but I've truly come across words that spoke to my core when I really needed it. Specifically when I was bawling my eyes out over the whole mess (I'm an emotional one) and I prayed, "God, I need You to tell me how to fix this" and opened my Bible up totally randomly, and my eyes fell upon Micah 6:8. "He has showed you, O [Felicia] what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." It's not human nature to act justly all the time, to everyone. Loving mercy is hard. Loving mercy...all the time, even when I don't particularly feel like it. Walking humbly...that I could use a little help with. It's not even walking humbly that I struggle with, it's more like walking with balance. I spent a great deal of my life thinking so little of myself, I had such horrible self esteem. It took me a long time to grow to the point where I liked who I am simply because I am secure that Jesus does too. Gradually, He has made me a better person, and sadly we live in a world where if you are a good person it can quickly go to your head. So thank you, Magic Bible, for that giant pin you gave me to deflate my ego. Love mercy, walk humbly...got it. Walk with my God - I see. Not, you know, by myself. Round two...I'm still dizzy from that first hit, but I'm up and I'm swinging. Okay, I'll be honest. I may have been holding a bit at this point, too. I imagine Satan looking at me, grinning with evil delight like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. He drools over my wooziness from his every blow to my gut.

3) I have some pretty amazing friends. So many of you helped me work through this. I am so blessed. I'd have to say, that was the one wildcard in this fight...when gambling on the tenacity of my soul, I doubt Satan had considered the support of my spiritual family. (I also doubt he considered my stubbornness...or maybe he did, and was hoping that would work to his advantage.) To those who lifted me up when I needed it, thank you. To those who needed me to be an example for you, thank you. To those who called and shared their thoughts with me...thank you. You were like a surgeon to my thoughts, you helped me cut out the bad stuff and focus on what I needed to. You were my Mickey in the corner, cheering me on and toughening me up. Maybe this is a bad analogy since Rocky lost in the first movie. Although, with my life story...I've already lived through "Rocky". This would be Rocky II for me. And we all know how that ended. At this point in my spiritual boxing match, I've come back swinging.

I'm a little disappointed in myself. I almost gave up my ministry with the homeless shelter. I was questioning everything. For a split second, I actually thought we may be making a mistake in moving. Obviously, Satan knows my weaknesses and he did everything he could to exploit them. Shocking, huh? I can just hear him now - standing before Jesus while I was at my lowest, saying "See? Nothing has changed. She's still the same flawed, stupid human." And Jesus growled back, "I said she's growing. I'm changing her. I'm not done with her yet."

It was right about then that I decided there was no way I could give up my ministry at the homeless shelter. And whatever emotional turmoil this situation caused me was just weathering to toughen me up for the challenges in front of us as we relocate. Because no matter what I've done with my life in the past, I've lived enough to know that I cannot be happy outside of God's plan for me. So even if it hurts (I'll miss my friends) and even if I'm scared (if I am this much of a wuss over this church group thing, how will I hold up under unknown pressures?) and even if I don't think I can do it, I have to. Because I've been hand chosen to do something with my life. I've been prepared by every heartache along the way to reach someone else with Christ's love.

Because I'm still growing.
Christ is changing me.
He's not done with me yet.
Thank God.

Carrying on traditions

2008-09-28T10:21:00.002-04:00

Back when me and my little brothers were kids, my father would wake us up on our birthdays by blasting the Beatles' "Birthday" song. So this morning, me and my Moose had a little dance party to this:

My parents always made birthdays the most special, important day. It was like your own personal holiday. You want chocolate chip pancakes for dinner? You got it, it's your birthday. I don't have a lot of them, but I really treasure the good childhood memories that I've got. This is one of them.

Dos

2008-09-28T01:20:00.000-04:00

My boy is two today. He is growing so fast. He is becoming the most amazing person. He inspires me. He is so sweet, considerate and sensitive. He loves so purely. I can't get over how awesome he is. I can't believe that God loves me that much, to trust me with such a precious heart.

When we were deciding on a name for him, I was in love with the name "Phoenix" and wanted to use it somehow. It was deeply meaningful to me - after all that I've been through in life, he is my Phoenix. He is new life, risen from a heap of ashes that only God could make beautiful.

I'm so thankful for it all...for my understanding, wonderful husband who loves God and honors Him with his life, for my precious son who radiates the purest human love I've ever known...I'm even thankful for my dogs who are sometimes a royal pain but are always full of unconditional love and devotion to their family. I'm so blessed. Even if God took it all away tomorrow, I'd like to believe that I'd still think I was the luckiest girl on earth to have everything I have today.

When your friends aren't.

2008-09-18T12:20:00.000-04:00

So we have experienced a very interesting transition in one of the church groups we participate in. We were about to embark on a study of parenting, which of course we feel very strongly about. We tried to approach the conversation with as open a mind as possible - while we feel very strongly about our beliefs, of course there could be more for us to learn. Immediately the conversation turned to spanking...and we were mortified and shocked into silence by what we heard. One of the people outright said he was very pro-spanking while his wife was more into gentle problem resolution and that difference sometimes causes conflict in their home. Another person said that one of his greatest parenting tools was "fear" and insinuated that physical discipline must be used because making your children fear you is how to make them obey.

By this time in the conversation, I was having a full on panic attack. I felt as if I might pass out...I could barely breathe. As I struggled to calm down, my stomach turned. The idea of hitting children is so distasteful to me, I felt I might vomit. The night wound down and on our way home, Hubby and I talked about how we had struggled to speak up during that conversation, and we decided we would have to say something about how physical discipline isn't the answer.

Here's a few reasons why we believe so strongly in gentle discipline...some of them have to do with our upbringing, some are purely logical and others have a strong Biblical foundation:

1. Growing up, we were both hit and spanked as discipline. In Hubby's house, when they misbehaved they were sent to their rooms, to wait for Daddy to get home. Then Daddy would come home and spank them. How ineffective is this? You send the kid to their room to play with their toys all afternoon (ooh, big punishment) and then when their father arrives home, his first duty is to go hit his son, for an infraction he knows nothing about and wasn't a part of.

In my childhood home, my mother frequently lost control and didn't know the difference between spanking for punishment and hitting us because she was angry or frustrated. Many times, she hit us in ways that were clearly not spanking (she broke my nose) and more often than not, her "spankings" were actually beatings that she would have, could have and probably should have been criminally prosecuted for. I remember several times as a teenager, I had to physically restrain my mother from beating the snot out of my baby brothers. It was a horrible, painful way to grow up.

What did this teach me? Well, basically it taught me that it's okay to hit people when you're mad. I guess that's why I endured so many bad relationships with people whom I would allow to use and abuse me. That's why I put up with my doctor ex-fiance who used to purposefully hurt me in ways he could fix (nobody ever knew he hurt me if he fixed it and I didn't say anything). That's why I worked in a hellhole for 4 years, for a boss who disrespected me and treated me like an indentured servant. That's why I endured 7 years of an emotionally and verbally abusive relationship and marriage. It took me a lot of time and personal and spiritual growth to realize that A) I deserved better than these relationships, B) it is incorrect to treat people in this manner or allow myself to be treated in this way and C) this isn't how Jesus would behave.

I had to fight hard against the thought that if my own mother could haul off and smack the living daylights out of me and it's okay, why isn't it okay for all these other people too? Well, the short answer is that it's not okay. It's not ever okay. It may be your natural human impulse, but that doesn't make it right. When it comes to my hands on my children, I want them to know that hands are for love. Hands aren't for hurting. We're breaking the cycle.

2. Violence only begets more violence, and an important way to promote peace in our society is by being peaceful, non-violent people. This seems totally logical to me. I don't want my children to be the big bullies on the playground. I don't want my children to grow up with a shortage of self-expression that leads them to express themselves in violence. So we talk about problems, we remind our son to be gentle and kind. And when he messes up, we show him how he has made his friend or us sad by his actions, and show him how to do better next time. Moose is a very sensitive, sweet little boy. When his friend cries, it upsets him and he wants to fix it. Is this just a coincedence or has he learned to treat people this way because we are sensitive to his feelings and are gentle to him physically? I firmly believe that a child learns from how he or she is treated...I know I did. I want my child to love others and live a life of harmony and peace.

3. The Biblical basis for most Christians believing in spanking as punishment comes from a misinterpretation of a couple of verses in Proverbs...the "spare the rod, spoil the child" texts. The original Hebrew word used here that is translated as "rod" is "shebet" which could also be translated as "authority". So what the verse means is the man who spares correction would be spoiling his child. This same "rod" isn't very different from the one mentioned in the 23rd Psalm...the "rod and staff" that "comfort" the Psalmist. This "rod" isn't so much a physical tool of discipline as much as it is gentle correction and direction.

With that in mind, we sent our small group leaders this email:

Dear Group Leaders,

We were approaching this parenting study with a bit of apprehension since punitive discipline is such a sensitive topic. After experiencing our initial meeting on this topic, we are very uncomfortable with this book study and would like to suggest that we redirect the study towards how to raise our children to know Christ. A group like ours would be a great venue to discuss how to teach our children the ways of the Lord. A text like this is something we would really be happy to get on board with: http://www.amazon.com/Family-Driven-Faith-Doing-Daughters/dp/1581349297/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1221523813&sr=8-1.

A book on parenting, and especially discipline, can lead to so many different interpretations. Through our own thorough and ongoing study of discipline, we have chosen to follow gentler parenting practices that don't involve physical punishment. We feel very strongly about our position. We do not want to promote discord, however; we are very passionate about gentle discipline. We feel that we must present our positive, Biblical viewpoint on why a gentle, non-physical approach is what we believe to be the better option.

We understand that it's a little late in the game to change books, so maybe we can try to investigate them both side by side or some other variation. Thanks so much for taking the time to prayerfully consider our concerns.

Tim & Felicia

You'll never guess how this matter was resolved. The group leaders decided that since we were "so strong in our convictions" and our "parenting style" is so different, that our group "wasn't a good fit" for us. I am flabbergasted by this. I also feel angry, hurt, and censored. I had a differing opinion, soundly based on Biblical principles, but they didn't care to hear it so we get the boot. They said that they "still consider us friends" and that it isn't "personal". Well, I beg to differ. I can't be friends with someone who has chosen to exclude us from a Bible study because we don't hit our kid and it is VERY personal. Someone tell me why I invested in this group of "friends" only to have them turn into...I don't know what.

Now I have to wrap my brain around forgiving them...for treating us in such an unChristlike way, for treating their children with corporal discipline, for this entire debacle. Jesus forgives them, so I have to also...it's just hard to do that when you're so hurt.

Broken Things

2008-09-14T14:18:00.000-04:00

Our interim music director performed a beautiful song this morning, I thought I'd share.

"Broken Things"

You can have my heart
Though it isn't new
It's been used and broken
And only comes in blue
It's been down a long road
And it got dirty on the way
If I give it to you will you make it clean
And wash the shame away

You can have my heart
If you don't mind broken things
You can have my life if you don't mind these tears
Well I heard that you make old things new
So I give these pieces all to you
If you want it you can have my heart

So beyond repair
Nothing I could do
I tried to fix it myself
But it was only worse when I got through
Then you walked into my darkness
And you speak words so sweet
And you hold me like a child
Till my frozen tears fall at your feet

Available on Amazon.com (homie don't play DRM downloads) for 99 cents - search "broken things julie miller".

Have a great week.

Proud Mama

2008-08-16T23:46:00.001-04:00

I don't know when kids are supposed to learn how to count to three, but he's 22 months and this amazes me:

Yes, we have our own YouTube channel. Or as I call it, MooseTube. :)

Bad things, Good people

2008-08-13T10:01:00.000-04:00

I received some sad news yesterday. A friend from college has passed away, after spending 14 years in a persistent vegetative state - after a tragic accident, only weeks before his wedding was to take place. His wedding to my other friend, a girl that I worked with as a high schooler at Burger King. She was Mormon, and with 4 of my classmates by my side we shared Christ with her and she came into a relationship with the Lord. She came with us to Bible College, where she met my now departed friend.

The story is tragic in any context, but more so if you knew Jeremy. Jeremy was Quality. He was one of the kindest, friendliest, funniest, most joyful, most brilliant people I have ever met. He had such an amazing energy. He had such passion for the Gospel. He radiated Christ's love to everyone he met. Everything about him was genuine. He was everyone's trusted friend. He was outgoing, with a personality that instantly set everyone he met at ease. He had this electric personality that could not be denied...until the accident.

I guess I’ve always held out hope in the back of my mind that his passion, ambition, extroversion and drive would somehow miraculously bring him out of his injured state. I had always assumed that God would not “waste” such a precious life, such a bright testimony of His love. My heart was startled out of that pleasant dream when yesterday morning greeted me with an email entitled “In case you hadn’t heard…” and my eyes have been wet with tears in each of my private moments since. And in between my faltering faith asking God “why”, I saw how Jeremy taught me not only how to live but also how to die.

With passion.
With joy.
As a living sacrifice.

I don't know how many days I'll cry over this loss. I honestly don't know if there will ever come a time in my life that I remember Jeremy and don't cry. I do know that I have stopped asking God "why?" Because if I were God, I would have wanted Jeremy home and by My side too.

Jeremy's passing has set me vis a vis with my own mortality. Up until now, all the people in my life who died were "old people". Now my contemporary has gone before me, and it really impresses upon me how brief life is. There are no guarantees. There may be no tomorrow. There may not even be lunch. I'd better get off the computer, and start living.

A perfect day

2008-08-10T19:51:00.000-04:00

What a lovely day today was. After church & lunch, we took a bike ride up to Whole Foods for our weekly grocery shopping. The ride there is uphill, the ride back is downhill and totally pleasant. As I coasted home, I turned the corner and a ray of sunlight kissed my face as my iPod played one of my favorite songs, Matthew West's "More". It was just such a beautiful moment, and I felt God's presence so clearly. What a gift.

Take a look at the mountains
Stretching a mile high
Take a look at the ocean
Far as your eye can see
And think of Me

Take a look at the desert
Do you feel like a grain of sand?
I am with you wherever
Where you go is where I am

And I'm always thinking of you
Take a look around you
I'm spelling it out one by one

I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more

Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me

And I want you to know
That I'm not letting go
Even when you come undone

I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more

Shine for Me
Shine for Me
Shine on, shine on
Shine for Me

I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more

Than the sun
and the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you, yesterday and today
Through the joy and the pain
I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more

And I see you
And I made you
And I love you
More than you can imagine
More than you can fathom
I love you more than the sun
And you shine for me

When you have a boy, you need to teach him certain important things....

2008-08-08T12:46:00.001-04:00

...like how to surf the stairs in a laundry basket.

My husband cracks me up!

2008-08-08T01:05:00.000-04:00

We had to get a new wireless router after our old one died an untimely death. Hubby set up a new wireless network. Here are the names of the wireless networks in our neighborhood - guess which two are ours...

DaddyCool
2Wire421
I-LOVE-LAMP
Smith
arvelocity2
Mantalba
Gerzevske
HouseNet
Taz Wireless
Vinny 22
SexPanther
linksys
Anikesh

Yes, we like the movie Anchorman quite a bit. ;)

I'm Bringing Casseroles Back

2008-08-06T17:39:00.000-04:00

Back in the day, like when my mom was my age, the "normal" thing to do for people when they had a major life event or illness was to bring them a dinner. Barely anybody does this anymore. Why? Have we, as a society, become so isolated and selfish that we don't consider the basic human needs of our neighbors, our friends, or that weird cat lady at the end of the block?

When we lived in our apartment in Schaumburg, our neighbors called me Bree VanDeKamp. Whenever someone new moved in, I brought over freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a quart of milk. More times than not, the cookies were Nestle Toll House scoop & bakes but they didn't know! I got to know their names, their roommates or spouses' names, where they were from, and if they were sketchy or not. Those little cookies were like seeds in sowing a friendship. We talked to each other in the halls, kept an eye on each other's places and cars, and when we moved out they were actually sad to see us go. Why is that so "weird" nowadays that there was namecalling involved?

I don't think the isolation attitude is right, so I'm doing something about it. I'm fairly dangerous in the kitchen, so I've decided that from now on my personal ministry is going to be bringing people in need a dinner. I feel that God has given me the gift of being a good cook and baker, and it's my responsibility to use my gifts to glorify Him. So that's how I'm going to "be Jesus" to people. Jesus fed people (see: loaves and fishes). Jesus commanded us to "feed his sheep" and who am I to not take that literally?

So if you're sick, have a baby, have surgery, blow out your MCL, lose a loved one (regardless of number of legs, four legged loved ones are just as painful to lose as two legged ones), or are just having a crappy week...I'll probably ask you when I can bring dinner by.

My ministry is delicious. I'm so excited to have discovered a new way to let God continue to make me awesome.

Every Mother's Worst Nightmare

2008-08-04T13:22:00.001-04:00

Over the weekend, we had a flood in the garage. It was awful. We had beautiful weather outside, but instead of being able to enjoy it we were stuck working in the garage, trying to salvage what we could. We were kind of using it as storage space for our prepping to move stuff. So now we have tons of wet boxes and garbage, but we can't put it in the garage because the garage floor is all wet. I'm sure the association is going to find us in violation for having trash on the side of the house. Anyways....

We had a guy out to find out where the water was coming from, and we found the toilet in the master bath was leaking. This morning the guy came back to replace the toilet, and he found he needed another part. So he took off to Home Depot. He said he'd let himself out.

I had some Baby Crackstein playing in the living room for Jackson to watch and I was doing some housework. I went to go check on Jackson, and he was gone. The front door was wide open.

Thus began the longest ten minutes of my life. My heart raced, and I went into an immediate panic. I flew out the door into the pouring rain, screaming my son's name at the top of my lungs. We live about a quarter of a mile off of a very large, busy road. Every bad thing that could possibly be happening to my baby ran through my head and I could barely breathe. I ran back into the house, thinking I could cover more ground in the car so I grabbed my keys, purse and phone.

Once I was back outside, I remembered the pond across the street. Jack loves water, but he can't swim. I fearfully headed down the muddy slope to the water, expecting to see my son drowned. No sign of him at the pond. I ran back up the embankment, yelling out Jackson's name and dialed 911. As I waited on HOLD, (Dear 911: When a mother calls and says "My son is missing!" your response should NOT be "hold please") I shouted out to Jackson more and started checking all the neighbor's yards that aren't fenced in. While I was on the phone with 911, I came back around the block and saw a tiny pair of feet on the other side of the car.

Wherever he was, he must have heard me calling for him and came back to the house. He was waiting by the side of the Jeep. I told the 911 operator I found him, we came into the house, and I hung up the phone. We were both soaked from top to toe, drenched with rainwater. I was bawling my eyes out, holding him tight and never wanting to let go - my heart overwhelmed with fear, relief, panic, thankfulness my baby's safety, anger at the handyman for leaving the door open, anger at myself for having my back turned and trusting the handyman to close the door (but seriously, who leaves a front door wide open like that? Was he born in a barn?!?!?!) For his part, Jackson thought he had a super fun adventure in the rain. He was laughing and giggling and had no idea why I was so upset. He was totally clueless! The police came by a few minutes later to check on us and make sure everything was okay. He kept telling me silly things like, "Ma'am, it's alright" and "Ma'am, you need to breathe".

The handyman guy came back and let me tell you, if looks could kill I would be in jail for murder. I can give a good stinkeye, but this was stinkeye DELUXE as I asked him, "did you know you left the door open?" NOT ONLY did he ruin my $40 bath sheet, but he also let my 22 month old toddler out of the house to wander the streets. It was all I could do to keep from screaming that handyman straight out of the house, and that would have been mild compared to the can of whoop-ass I wanted to open up on him. If assault and battery weren't a crime, he would have left my house with a broken nose and a black eye!

I am now sipping on a double strength cup of chamomile tea, because I need it desperately. Jackson is watching Curious George, undoubtedly getting ideas on how else to raise a ruckus and give Mama a heart attack.

I'm done with today. Just done. Today can end now, I've had enough.

Boys are so gross!

2008-08-03T23:59:00.000-04:00

Moose is officially in the stage where you can no longer trust everything he hands you. I was putting away laundry, distracted, when he says "here" and hands me something. Without thinking aboout it, I take it only to find it's a giant...booger. Freshly selected from his left nostril. I only know it was from the left because he was working on the right with a bit of urgency.

Despite the disgusting factor, this is still far less nasty than the time my friend's toddler tried feeding her...a turd from his diaper. Gahhhhhh!

A Sad Day

2008-07-26T16:16:00.000-04:00

We are officially a single car family now. Today a very nice boy named Alex came by, looked at The Olive, took her for a spin around the block, and gave me money. I signed a piece of paper, handed over the keys and that was that.

She's gone.

She was the very last thing that I owned that was all mine. She was the very first car I ever had that I bought all by myself. And as I stood and watched my youth, my independence, my...my...my je ne sais quoi drive away, tears welled up in my eyes as that last bit of "me" drove off down the block.

I know I'm still me. I'm just me in a much bigger car that is far less fun to drive. Ah, The Olive. That car was good to me. I will miss her.

The Olive
1998 - 2008

Don't Stop Believin'

2008-07-25T13:02:00.000-04:00

The "Best Of" section of Craigslist is always good for a few laughs. I can't say I can remember a time that a Best Of entry made me cry before, but this one did. What a story, what a life. Even if it's not true...what a great story.

Can you want something and not want something at the same time?

2008-07-16T13:44:00.000-04:00

I want to move. I really, really do. I am truly excited to see what is on the other end of the road for us, I'm excited for the journey. I'm also a little scared, and a bit anxious that this move is going to challenge me in ways I'm not expecting and am not prepared to handle. But I am excited to see the blessings we will encounter, and I'm excited to be able to have a very hands on role in building a church from the very beginning that I am passionate about. It's very second chapter of Acts, and that's one of my most favorite passages. I would love, love, love to be a part of a church community where the Gospel was as alive as it was in the second chapter of Acts.

But also, I don't want to move. Let's face it, I live in a really nice community. And we do love the church we have found here. I love how safe Naperville is, and I love how great the schools are. I love the sense of community in this town. I love the charming downtown. I love the new Whole Foods that just opened today that is close enough for me to ride my bike to! *hooting and hollering* And I love my friends. I love my babywearing playgroup friends, my API group friends, my church friends and my high school friends.

And I love my best friend in the whole wide world. My precious Crystal has been the best friend of my heart for the better part of 20 years, and today the reality of her being a whole plane ride away from where I live was just overwhelming. A plane ride away. What if I need her? Don't get me wrong, I love my husband dearly. He is a wonderful man and I couldn't ask God for a better partner in life. But no matter how much you love your man, there are some things that only a girlfriend will "get". She has been the truest, most faithful friend. She has been there for me through family troubles, marriage troubles, the pain of divorce. She is smart and kind and always knows how to help me make sense of things when the world is confusing. Her friendship is one of God's greatest blessings in my life.

And as much as I love the idea of something new, exciting and challenging....I am also scared to death to leave my familiar comforts for the great unknown. And also, I just don't want to be that far away from the greatest friend who ever lived.

Underneath It All

2008-06-19T15:51:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I went strawberry picking with Moose - actually, I picked and he ate. :) But it was a fun morning activity on a beautiful summer day.

He couldn't "get" the idea of picking the fruit because he couldn't see any of it. Most of the berries on the periphery of the plants had already been picked, those that hadn't were either unripe or beginning to rot as they touched the ground.

So as I picked, I moved back the lush green foliage and in each strawberry plant I found a jackpot of fresh, ripe berries just under the canopy of leaves.

It struck me as a lesson - so often I judge people by their outside, and I hardly take time to find out what is beneath the surface. So often I'm judged in much the same way. A lot of the time, all I have to do is tell someone I live in Naperville, and immediately their mind jumps to this mental image of a snooty, over privileged, flashy person and I am SO not that person. I just happen to live in a well-funded community but I think of myself as pretty down to earth.

Thank God that He doesn't judge us this way - He doesn't look down and see our shell and think "oh, there's nothing good in there let's move on to the next one." He sees the good in me and in you and in everybody, and He never stops urging our hearts to bring all that good to the surface. And then, all we have to do is bear fruit.

My Perfect(ed) Body

2008-06-16T13:57:00.000-04:00

I wish I could remember what the name of the song was that we sang in church yesterday that reminded me of this...I don't think about the afterlife a whole lot. I'm sure it will be wonderful and amazing and I guess I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, I'm enjoying every minute of the full and wonderful life on earth that I've been gifted with. Anyway, so we're singing in church about how awesome Heaven will be and the words are something about our bodies being changed...and then it hit me.

When I'm in Heaven, I won't have to wear an insulin pump.

I'm connected to this machine 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and it keeps me alive. I only get to take it off a maximum of 1 hour a day unless I am otherwise engaged in water based activity (I can take it off to shower or to go swimming, basically). But when I go to Heaven, my body will be changed and I will no longer be human and I won't need an insulin pump anymore.

*imagines life without being tethered by tubing*

This is amazing to me. I don't know why, but I've never considered this before. Eternal pumplessness. I don't think you can imagine how wonderful this sounds to me if you aren't also connected to a machine that keeps you alive every day, all day. It would be different if the machine was optional, like a cell phone or iPod. If I could just choose to not have it on me one day and see how that goes. (I guess I could choose to not have it, but I know how that will go! That story would end with me in the ER.)

So when I get to Heaven, my body will be perfect. I won't need contacts either! No contacts, no glasses, no insulin pump, no Chiropractor appointments...this Heaven deal is sounding better and better!

It's a sad day when...

2008-06-08T21:50:00.000-04:00

Gasoline at $4.06 makes you happy and excited.

He puts the "dear" in DH

2008-06-08T01:44:00.000-04:00

My husband is an all around swell guy. He's very patient, very gentle and very kind. Every once in awhile, he will use his technological savvy to do something nice for me. When we were first dating, he made me a custom ringtone and put it on my phone (it was Christopher Walken from SNL, saying the infamous line: "I got a fever! And the only prescription is...more cowbell!". Last year, he set up the entertainment center as my oversize workstation. Sometimes, he embarks on long road trips just to get me a chili cheese dog. This weekend, he made me another custom ringtone, and it's awesome.

I'm in love with those White Castle commercials, where people are distracted beyond belief by a sandwich calling them. In one, Death backs down from taking his next victim when a cheeseburger calls him and pulls him away from his work. The best part is, when the cheeseburger calls it doesn't say words. It plays this sexy siren song of fast food pleasure that cannot be denied. In one spot, a chicken sandwich calls a guy who is working on putting together a store display. He says, "if I leave, I'll get fired". The chicken seduces him with its sensual pleasures; playing only the song which beckons him with a force no mere mortal can resist. He drops the phone and departs the store. These commercials totally crack me up. And the song is rad. I wanted it for my ringer.

Through some form of computer wizardry, Hubby captured the song and made it an mp3 for me and now when you call me, my phone plays the Crave is Calling song. It's such a silly little thing, but it was so thoughtful and unusual that it made me really happy.

And yes, when my phone rings it makes me want cheeseburgers!

So sink or swim, I'm diving in...

2008-06-03T18:06:00.000-04:00

Our move has become more real. We spent our weekend on tour, Friday night we drove up to St. Joseph, MI where Rob & Christina's old church presented them with a farewell party. We met Rob & Christina for breakfast Saturday morning to talk about church plans and fill them in on our plans and timetable and hash out the vision of what we hope Process Church will become. (And yes, my blog title is a nod to our new venture). We are fired up like we just came home from an Obama rally. We're psyched, we're ready. Hubby is more actively looking for a job in the ATL area and I'm spending way too much time looking at houses online. We originally said we'd move a year from now, but neither of us is opposed to moving sooner if God paves the way.

I mentioned to Doug on Facebook that lately all my car radio plays is KLOVE since we now have a Repeater in the house. I'm too afraid to listen to anything else - I used to listen to 101.9 all the time but all I need is Meredith Brooks' "B!tch" to come on and then have Moose sing along. KLOVE is a good station though, and it's really been a pleasure to experience a worshipful attitude in the middle of traffic instead of getting fried.

With Steven Curtis Chapman's recent CD out, maybe they're pushing his music more than usual. I don't know. It's either that, or there's a message in the song that manages to play on the radio each time I'm in the car (the same song our music guy used in worship Sunday morning - coincidence?) that I'm supposed to "get". An excerpt:

My heart is racing and my knees are weak
As I walk to the edge
I know there is no turning back
Once my feet have left the ledge
And in the rush I hear a voice
That's telling me its time to take the leap of faith
So here I go

I'm diving in I'm going deep in over my head I want to be
Caught in the rush lost in the flow in over my head I want to go
The rivers deep the rivers wide the rivers water is alive
So sink or swim I'm diving in

And then Hubby found THE PERFECT job for him. The title, the salary, the responsibilities, everything he could ask for. 5 minutes away from the town we're moving to. This may be happening sooner than we anticipated, but we're ready to dive on in if it does!