On being wanted...{Lord, do I gots issues}

Disclaimer #1 - Mom, if you're reading this, this is no way a reflection of our current relationship {all good!} but is a brutiful-ly honest look inside my issues.

Disclaimer #2 - Despite my seemingly confident and capable exterior, I'm a rather raw ball of paradoxical emotions at any given time.  If you're reading this and you know me in the IRL, I probably don't want to talk further about what I'm about to write - unless you're cut from a similarly broken cloth and wish to say, "Hey, me too."  This is for the people who haven't opened up yet - to let them know they are not alone, as I feel an odd compulsion to bare my soul tonight.

Ok, now that the legalese is out of the way...

From my earliest sense of awareness, I always felt unwanted.

Maybe it had something to do with hearing the words "mistake" or "accident" when the question of my conception arose in conversation.  Maybe it had a lot of something to do with, at age 5, hearing the family lore of how my Real Dad left town, having stolen my 16 y/o mother's paper route money to get the hell out of Dodge, just a day after I was born.

Shortly after my mother's younger sister {then 11} dropped that bomb on me, my biological father returned to town and approached my mother about wanting to see me.  I can't recall if he was clean yet and my mom had doubts or if she knew for sure he was still drugging it up, but regardless, she told him no, and then tried her best to warn me that he wanted me, but couldn't have me because he had done some bad things that made it so he couldn't be with me, especially alone.  He might take me, kidnap me, and that would be very, very bad.  All I knew of him at that point was the 9th (?) grade yearbook picture of him, in which he was wearing hideous seventies fashion and had longer hair than I'd seen on any man I knew personally.

One night, I was playing at my grandmotherly next-door-neighbor's yard.  Her daughters were the same ages as my mother and aunt (which was unusual in that there is a 10 year split in age), but at this point in my life, I was only aware of her 12 y/o daughter, who would play with me on occasion.  The elder daughter and her husband were visiting, and being close friends of my mom's from the past, they knew me, but my six-year-old self did not recognize them.  When her husband said, "Hello, Heather" and began walking toward me talking about how big I'd gotten, all my terrified little brain could say was, "Unknown Man Knows Your Name And Is Gonna Kidnap You!  RUN!!! SCREAM!!!!!"  So I did, horrified at the prospect of being wanted enough to get stolen.  The nightmares began shortly after that, in which my yearbook-picture father would break into our house, freeze my family members into stone (like Medusa - yes, even at age six, I had a major interest in Greek mythology) and leave with me, kicking and screaming into the night, which is usually where I'd wake up.  I vividly remember having these nightmares repeatedly for at least a year.

So on the one hand, feeling unwanted was lonely and painful and yet, a feeling to which I grew accustomed; on the other hand, being wanted was a terrifying and sinister thing to avoid.

I know the sense of being unwanted was heightened as my siblings came along; I was not my stepfather's child, but they were.  Later, this sense rose to a climax for me when I was 12, and my mother had been gone one weekend with nary a word to anyone about where she was.  Upon her return, when I tearfully asked her why she would do such a thing, why she would have scared us so much, she told me I was the reason why.  That because I was born when she was still so young, she hadn't gotten to fully live and have fun, so she took the chance to do just that. She was still flying high and didn't mean it.  Or at the very least, she didn't mean to actually say it aloud, but her inhibitions were out the window.  And some things just can't be unsaid, particularly in a young girl's head.

Implicit in all of it was that I was a burden, that while I was unwanted, I was still there and dealing with my needs was an obligatory drag.  Exacerbating these feelings was the fact that all the family drama and dysfunction often left my parents unable to meet many of my emotional, and sometimes physical, needs; over time I arrived at two mantras to live by:

1. Nobody wants you

2. The only one who can take care of you is you

So I set out to make people want me by way of achievement.  For many years, the praise of my teachers was, in large part, what fed my need for love and acceptance.  I was strong and confident because I relied on myself to feel good and make things happen for myself.  {Later, a keen awareness of this pattern's unhealthy extension into my adult life, by way of my career path, was ultimately what lead me to quit working out of the home and work on just being with my God, husband, and children.}

While still a perfection-seeking, worth-is-determined-by-merit-thinking slave, I met my would-be husband, and through him, Christ.  Just like in my marriage, my walk with Christ is often {needlessly}complicated because of my brokenness and life-long patterns of distrust in others' ability to give me what I crave: acceptance and a sense of "I chose YOU."

I also run into trouble when I try to do everything myself.  It's not so much that I think God CAN'T do it, because uh, you know He can do the impossible {except that if I'm totally being one hundred percent truthful, that doubtful thought may have crossed my mind a time or two}, as much as it is I don't want to burden Him with my concerns and needs and risk Him looking at me with Reluctant Obligation as opposed to the Unconditional, NOTHING Can Separate You From The Love of Christ LOVE, {NOTHING!} He's shown me so freely over the years. I fear that He'll become one of the many who've let me down in life if I trust Him or bother Him too much.  Which is crazy, if you think about it.  He's Unending Love, Boundless Joy, and Abundant Life.  There is no obligation, no burden too heavy for God.  And over and over and over in Scripture we are told that He is nothing if He isn't faithful.

But there you have it - that is my default, maladaptive coping mechanism, to bottle up and soldier through with the insistence that I CAN SO DO THIS MYSELF BECAUSE I'M AFRAID YOU'LL LET ME DOWN IF I LET YOU  SEE THE CHINKS IN MY ARMOR.

So, when we started to struggle with finances this spring as a result of my job loss - I hit the job seeking hard.  I would get a job and help get us out of this hole, and it would soon be a distant memory.  One month passed.  Two..  Three..... Four, and well, we've been really struggling with What Does The Future Hold?  Especially as we got behind on our mortgage....again.  {After the medical bills from four years ago peaked simultaneous to the impact from recession, we entered foreclosure status a couple of years ago and worked very diligently for 18 months to finally secure a loan modification last fall.}

Last week, we were pushing 45 days late with the mortgage when Seth got paid.  On Tuesday his paycheck was $1,000 less than his previous paycheck before it had been, roughly $500 less than the average we try to budget for. We were devastated. A few essential bills (car insurance, student loan, phone, tool payment) and groceries came out and 2 days later, we had $29 in the acct, plus a bit of cash ($40ish) to get us through the next two weeks.

On Thursday, independent from any job application or pitch, I got a call from a former consulting client asking me if I'd work with them.  I was thrilled and my psyche got a much needed dose of "they want me!"  I also was convinced that this was God providing just what we needed at just the right time.  I praised Him and shared with our elders and ministers just how dire things had gotten, how God had heard us and asked them to join us in celebration at His provision.

Then I got a second call.

Turns out there'd been a slight change of plans sometime between the staff meeting where the organization decided to invite my help wherein one of the staffers had been instructed to call me and the actual making of the call, but it never got communicated.  The higher ups decided to go with a PR firm instead upon further thought but had not yet informed their staffer of the change.

And just like that, my case was proven.  See, God, see??!!??  You let this happen, You got my hopes all up and then?  NO GOOD!  Why should I trust You?  You're like all the rest.

And He was like, Wait. For. It.....You'll see.

Whatever.  So I sent another e-mail, saying, roughly, "Well, no dice.  Uh, Habakkuk 3:17-18?  I dunno what's going on, but please keep praying."

Friday, I got a call from one of the recipients of my e-mails saying, "I hope you don't mind, but I told our benevolence folks about your needs.  We can help you, we just need a number."

All this time, I've been trying to get us through on my power.  Refusing to Just. Ask. For. Help.

Not out of pride as much as thinking our needs were too much and how dare I ask for That Much?  Also, the Hardship Olympics show up in my head, you know, when you do that thing that's supposed to cheer you up, but it really just makes you feel guilty and worse, when you think of people who have it worse off than you and need the help that much more? Yeah. I do that.  A lot.

Anyway, today I talked with our church's benevolence ministry leader, and told him our number.  It was large, and humbling to admit the level of help we needed.

But God provides.  Abundantly.

The key is to Just Ask.  Ask without shame.

7 “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.9 “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! 12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

 Lord, I hear You saying, "See, my child?  I can give you what you need, want to give great things to you, just ASK ME.  I love you, my dear, for I CHOSE you.  Knit you in your mother's womb, it was no accident - you are because I wanted you to be."

I hear you loud and clear, and feel your love and hope you know how much I love you back.  I know now this whole job fiasco happened so you could show me this.  You had a purpose, and I get it.  Thank you for being faithful, for placing my feet on solid ground, and helping me to work through my weaknesses - through which Your Power is made perfect.  And thank you for all of the sweet friends who've been walking with me and my family at this time.  I love them all so much too.

You're pretty amazing - ya know?  Bet you never heard that before! ;o)

what i wish she would have let me say to her

Backstory: the latter part of July, I received a msg from a colleague regarding an executive position opening at a local non-profit.  While I am currently at home, it has always been part of the plan for me to return to work when Christopher began school.  We're not quite there yet, but seeing as this opportunity found me {I was not looking} and our finances are still pretty dire thanks to Pneumo-Geddon 2009 and the crapped economy, Seth and I had some very frank conversation about whether I should even pursue it, and decided together that indeed, I should at least test the waters.  I interviewed {x3}, took a personality test, and landed in the top 3 candidates, but alas, it was not meant to be.  And I was actually ok with it.  What follows is a conversation I wanted to have with a friend, after we'd had an exchange that crushed me up quite a bit.


Motherhood should be a blessing, not the guilt-inciting, martyr-making chore that the level of sacrifice you keep wanting me to make has turned it into.  I don't want motherhood to be the cross I have to pick up daily, I want it to be something that I enjoy, treasure and am thus able to offer my best to my kids.  The financial trauma my family has faced in the past 3 years has taken away from that, and I'm seeking to restore the balance of having enough {and my enough is not a materialistic enough fwiw}and being more present with my kids.  I am fully aware that the trade off of time away from my kids seems counter-intuitive from this, but trust me, my eyes are wide open looking into this.  To suggest otherwise was insulting to me, as I thought you knew me to be the thoughtful, analytical person I am.

I'd like to remind you, as I pointed out in subsequent communications, that I know your thoughts on the Mommy Wars quite well; as a result, I did not seek your advice or blessing regarding my potential return to work.

I also did not seek your encouragement after my child let it slip that we needed prayers because mom didn't get the job she was seeking.  But I got it.  Ninety minutes of it.

day 1: where you stood

So, in six years of blogging (give or take, what with the 6 month hiatuses and all), I've never done any of these daily blog prompt things, but I really hope to get back in the swing of it, so what better than a quick, easy photo of the day, with or without some words, to dive back into things?

While this is not a great photo, it does represent several things for me about where I've stood.  

free falling or dancing in the wind?

Yesterday while out doing mundane errands {that I'd put off for as long as possible...I hate getting license plate renewal tags}, I had a Moment.

It was not a Moment of epiphany, nor one of any huge significance, but time stood still and I just...watched.

I was driving out of Old Town, approaching the University and got stopped at the light.  And then I marveled at the light.  No, not the stoplight, but that September lighting that always seems to captivate me.  That gold-washed luminescence that seems to bathe everything in a radiant amber; it's a fleeting phenomenon, this seasonal aura seems to dissipate with the shift in axial angle of the earth and something compelled me to just watch it, because... well, just because.

Blowing the dust off

I should be doing anything but writing a blog post.  Especially since I haven't touched this blog in over 5 months -there is no readership, no community waiting to hear from me.

But...

Something pulls at me.

I have work up to my ears, professionally and personally, that need attending.  Work that is why I got up before the sun this morning.  Work that I need to finish.

But...

Something whispers to me, "Awake!"

I've been asleep for a long time, wandering in the desert in a semi-conscious stupor, not really grumbling at God like the Israelites.  I couldn't be that short-sighted after all He's done for me, now could I?  No, I haven't been ungrateful, unable to remember the remarkable things God has done in my life, so much as I've been....

Veiled.  There's been something between me and God that keeps me from really seeing, hearing, feeling His presence in my life.  Pride?  Weariness?  Apathy?  Shaky faith?  I don't know.  I haven't been able to put my finger on it, but suffice to say that I have been in a pattern of just going through the motions for a long time.  I don't know the last time I sat down with God and really communed with Him, at least outside of church, anyway.  Because there have been plenty of moments not unlike a party where I've really connected with a lifelong friend, but then something comes along and I promise to take up the conversation later.  And yet, I never do.

Last night we went to our church's youth group since our Life Group wasn't meeting.  Rather than a lesson, we had a conversation about how life, particularly Christian life, holds no promise of being a walk in the park, among various other cliche's.  I, being the pop culture thinker I am, immediately heard a reprise in my mind...."I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden."  That song, though not that version, is older than I am, and so universally true.  

We talked about the barriers, often self-induced - though not always, we struggle against as we strive to walk with God.  Throughout the discussion, God kept nudging me, as He often does when I'm struggling, with Scriptures that have been present in my own recent glimpses at the Word: Romans 8:31-39, Hebrews 12:1-2, and a few others that fade in my memory Toward the end of the discussion, a wise sister brought up a passage in 2 Corinthians 3 that spoke to me, as well as her thoughts regarding the words inspired by God.

¹² Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold. ¹³ We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to prevent the Israelites from seeing the end of what was passing away. ¹⁴ But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. ¹⁵ Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. ¹⁶ But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. ¹⁷ Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 

As she shared this, she likened our tendency to pull away from God and try to prove our independence in our struggles, that we can handle this On. Our. Own! to that veil on us today.  That when we turn to the Lord and proclaim our dependence, and our joyful submission to that dependence, there is nothing between us, that we are free to become....

...transformed into His image with ever increasing glory...

Huh....another repeat (look at my header).  Blog has since been redesigned {again}.

Thanks for the reminder, Father.  I thank you for your enduring patience with my stubborn independence, and praise you for your gentle and abundant love.  I pray that you will help me to proclaim my dependence on you and bless me with the unveiled glories of your presence that follows submission.  Thank you for Jesus and his humanity, his example, and his sacrifice.  Thank you for the hope you provide in the promise that you will transform us, that we are not doomed to continue the same heartaches of life over and over, but that we may rise above them with your help.  In Jesus' name, Amen.

I Didn't Wanna Do It

I'm not much for the so called genre known as Chick Lit, nor do I find myself drawn towards the books Oprah has endorsed as worthy for her club.

As such, Eat Pray Love held no real appeal to me, with the whole premise of glob-trotting to find oneself being completely irrelevant (and impractical) to my life - I didn't feel a connection would be made.  And I didn't see that it fit in with my values, seeing as its plot hinges upon the dissolution of a marriage - apparently for little compelling reason, other than the oft-cited, self-indulgent "I fell out of love."  That whole vein of thinking is a selfish cop-out to me, being that I've fallen out of love with my own husband about as many times as I've fallen in love with him over the years, and where would we be if I'd been so selfish to call it quits on those grounds alone?

Lately, I've been in a funk though, and found myself craving something inspirational, if not just a couple hours of thought-provocation.  So I added Eat Pray Love, the movie, to my Netflix queue.

And promptly fell in love with it.  So much so, that I now want to read the book.

Oh, Julia Roberts' character, Elizabeth Gilbert, struck me as selfish alright - but lately, I have seen myself in that light, too.  It was nice to be able to project my frustrations with myself onto someone else for a couple hours for a change.

Some of the more new age-y concepts of God didn't align with mine - particularly that of God dwelling within you...as you.  Theological tangent in 3..2..1: I agree that God dwells within those who choose Him and commit to Him, that's called the Holy Spirit - and I even agree with Gilbert's assertion (below) inasmuch that God lives in any of us, despite our tempers, our ambitions, emotions, etc., but God does not conform to us by living in us, as us, nor does He conform us all into the same type of Stepford-like person.  Instead He transforms us into beings that are closer to Him and His will, as he takes up residence in our diverse, as He intentionally created them to be, souls and personalities.

God's not interested in watching a performance of how a 'spiritual' person looks and behaves. The quiet girl who glides silently through the place with a gentle, ethereal smile...who is that person? It's Ingrid Bergman in "The Bells of St. Mary's" – not me.

That does ring true...I certainly don't think that Mary Magdalene and a bunch of ignorant fishers, some with tempers, were the quiet, spiritual types with ethereal smiles, speaking "Peace be with you," to passersby - and yet, these are the types among whom Jesus chose to dwell.  God wanted them, and He wants me, as me, and you too.

So, overall?  I found some nuggets of wisdom and inspiration that I'm that surprisingly resonated with me.

A friend took me to the most amazing place the other day. It's called the Augusteum. Octavian Augustus built it to house his remains. When the barbarians came they trashed it a long with everything else. The great Augustus, Rome's first true great emperor. How could he have imagined that Rome, the whole world as far as he was concerned, would be in ruins. It's one of the quietest, loneliest places in Rome. The city has grown up around it over the centuries. It feels like a precious wound, a heartbreak you won't let go of because it hurts too good. We all want things to stay the same. Settle for living in misery because we're afraid of change, of things crumbling to ruins. Then I looked at around to this place, at the chaos it has endured - the way it has been adapted, burned, pillaged and found a way to build itself back up again. And I was reassured, maybe my life hasn't been so chaotic, it's just the world that is, and the real trap is getting attached to any of it. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.

This made me think of the whole beauty for ashes passage in Scripture, and comforted me, particularly the thought about getting too attached to the events of life.

The largest nugget, though, would be the Quest Physics conclusion, emphasis mine:

In the end, I've come to believe in something I call "The Physics of the Quest." A force in nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity. The rule of Quest Physics goes something like this: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments, and set out on a truth-seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared, most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you. 

Again, as a Christian, I see this through a bit of a different, albeit complimentary, lens.  Mainly, I feel  the Truth Gilbert speaks of is none other than Jesus, but all the same I see a parallel in this quest physics theorem with the whole spiel that He gave about us denying ourselves, taking up our crosses and following Him.  In doing such, I believe that one of the biggest crosses we have to bear is that of the blinds we wear regarding our innermost workings – that unless we look long and hard at ourselves and take an honest inventory and repent of those things counter to what God has in mind for us, unless we take up that cross, all the other ones we may carry, our jobs, roles and relationships, etc., are in vain.  It’s kind of like in The Power of a Praying Wife, when Stormie Omartian realizes that the ‘Father, change him’ prayer is far less important than that of ‘Father, change me.’  But, it’s not all blame and shame for the self – as Gilbert states, once we see the difficult realities about ourselves, we.  must.  move.  ON!  lest we simply want to pick that sucker [cross] up and just stand there with it.  We gotta follow the Leader, and to do so, we have to want to be different and follow the trail He’s blazing, not the one we’ve trod on forever, comfortably.

For myself, I’ve been in limbo lately re: the whole working versus staying at home conundrum as a result of the recent job opportunity.  [should hear something late next week or early the following week]. 

On the one hand, I’ve seen some things flourish in the time that I’ve been at home that I’m afraid to let go of, should I get the go-ahead from God (right now our prayer is – God, we *think* this was a sign from you, but if it is not, please prohibit it from happening – if it is, let there be incredible peace and green lights all the way).  Like Elizabeth Gilbert’s quest for balance, I desperately sought to improve my family dynamics when I embarked on this journey.  But, also like Gilbert, in doing so I eradicated anything in my life that I thought would distract me from my quest.  I quit volunteering in the non-profit community; I turned down opportunities to speak and participate in homeless programming panels under the guise of not having childcare and/or still needing to recover from my illness; I’ve flaked on countless friends and family and insulated myself to where I’ve focused all my energies into my family.  As Gilbert became the woman who couldn't possibly risk her newfound self by loving a man, I’ve become that martyr-like woman who’s made her family her idol and dares not risk her newfound sense of family by pursuing interests that feed her essence, that person God created her to be.  A mother is never “just” a mother – she is a child of God with her own unique gifts, talents and purpose, many of which will [and should] benefit her family, but need not be exclusive to that.

Whether I get the job or not, I want to find some kind of balance again.  One where my husband and I make time for each other alone, beyond the bedroom.  Where I can volunteer some time and give back.  Where I feel as if I am answering the call to be a light in my community, not just my own home; however, not forsaking my own family in doing so.  I want to feel secure again, to not feel the tightening of the walls each time my phone rings, dreading whichever creditor it may be.  I want to write again – creatively and frankly – and yet, I’ve looked back and seen that my most prolific writing periods were those in which I had to balance many things. 

All this inspired by a movie based on a book I thought I’d hate.  


Amazing what happens when one opens her mind, eh?



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Changing of the Season?

Two and a half years ago, Seth and I set out on a faith journey.

This journey involved bringing another child into our family, and me leaving my career to be a full-time SAHM.  We crunched numbers based on Seth's current take-home pay, health-care coverage expenses, cost-savings from no childcare, etc.  It was going to be tight, but doable.  Ideally, the plan was for me to continue my MPA program very part-time, to keep student loans at bay, and finish around the time Christopher would start school so that I could go back to work.  Kelsey would be old enough to spend time with them after school until I got home, would I be working FT.

But that's where things have fallen short.

Seth's annual income has decreased by about $10k from our 2008 projections due to a harsh economy.  And then I tried to die, sans insurance.  That was NOT CHEAP - although, please let it be known that I'm quite glad to be ALIVE and well!  So, yeah, there've been some wrenches thrown our way.  Each month, our finances have gotten progressively worse, despite some serious downsizing of our lifestyle, to the point of having to decide what to pay [late], what not to pay, and what to catch-up on.

We've been praying for quite some time that God would show us what to do.  I've thought about getting a night/weekend job, to avoid incurring child-care costs, but Seth has not liked that option as it would strain our marriage, and he already works a hard, manual 50+ hours/week.  I've tried to garner some free-lance work, and only just recently have landed anything substantial, and yet still not at all steadily coming in.

And then, two weeks ago, I was praying about this very issue as Seth's body is wearing from his work - he'd had high blood pressure at Thanksgiving, some neck pain and extreme fatigue that disheartened me and left me with visions of him working himself to death -  when I received an e-mail.  It was from my old boss at the city.  She was announcing her departure from the city as she had landed an opportunity of a lifetime with the United Way.

Thus, her position, for which I was the assistant for 4.5 years and have very first-hand knowledge regarding, was open.

Could it be?  An answer from God?  Or an illusory trapping laid out by the enemy in which I could become self-important and lose priority again?  Hmmmm.....dilemma.

I've had many mixed emotions about this position, and as a result have done a ton of soul-searching, investigations re: hidden costs (both material/physical and spiritual/emotional), and had many a heart to heart with my husband.  I've cried at the thoughts of the confusion my little boy might feel when Mama leaves him all day every day all of a sudden.  And I've thought that if I have to work, and it sure appears it's going to be that way, that it might as well be something that I love doing, which I did.

Ultimately, we've decided, together, that I should apply for it, with the prayer being if this is not God's will, that He put up an undeniable road block in this path.  It is an unbelievable opportunity, one that may not come about for a very long time, and is in keeping with my professional goals/abilities.

Yesterday, I submitted my application.  With glowing references and a letter of recommendation.  Now we wait, as the hiring supervisor is out of the country until after the first of the year.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

On Owning Some of What [and Who] I Am

Headless Mom recently shared a blog post of Jodifur's on facebook.

And I am so glad that she did, because it was one of those resonating gems of the blogosphere, a post in which you read and find yourself saying, "I am so totally there, too!"  Well, maybe without the 'so totally," anyway.  And maybe just for me, anyway... This is a hint to just click over and read it, lest you be reading my thoughts without full contextual insight.

I don't know Jodi, but I relate to the whole undermining of one's self - be it in the realm of my hobbies, abilities, appearance, etc., I have the tendency to speak in 'I'm really nots' and dismissive notes of how old something I'm wearing might be.

But no more.

Inspired by Jodi's closing statement that she IS a runner - I'm going to write up a list of things I am, and own them free and clear of the debts brought on by insecurity.  That sounds a heck of a lot better than I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggonit, people like me, doesn't it?

I'm a sinner.  Saved by the blood of Jesus Christ, from whom I draw my hope for the future, but still a sinner who still makes the same stupid mistakes everyday.  I wish that I knew God better - and love the song below so, so, SO much because Jennifer Knapp does such a great job at capturing my heart - but the beauty is that there is always room to grow.


I'm a wife and mother to some pretty terrific people.  Which makes me pretty blessed overall, even on the tough days.  Someone PLEASE remind me of this on Sunday/Monday as Seth is taking 3 days off from Casa del Meyer to go archery hunting and I may just be going a little crazy by then.

I, too, am a runner.  I have a running mix on my ipod, see the same fellow runners on my route every other day (because I have a route and a time that I stick to, like other runners do), read running articles, have run a 5k, 10k, and now am training for a half-marathon.  I mean, what's it take, a full marathon to make someone a runner?  Enough hem-hawing about it, Heather!  You're a runner!

I am a writer.  No longer will I hesitate to say this.  I am now writing professionally, even if it is not the Great American Novel and is just grants and technical writing for now, it is beyond a personal blog.  However, should I ever revert back to just writing a blog, I will still realize that I'm a writer, regardless of brand or label.  I create with my words and always will.

And because it is so important to me....I am a red-head!  The shade may be mellowing due to hormones or the seasonal light change or whatever inexplicable phenomenon you to which you wish to ascribe this occurrence, but I paid my dues as a red-headed child and I am still a red-head!  Don't make me get the bottle.....

I am pretty.  That one is so hard to write, because I struggle to see it.  Always have, even when I was younger though I now can clearly see the beauty I had then.  It also seems kind of an arrogant thing to say - which I'm not quite sure how it got construed that way, I mean we [women that is, I've met men who have no issue with this, even when, maybe they, uh, should have] have no problem identifying ourselves as smart, but pretty?  Maybe because smart is measurable and beauty is in the eye[s] of the beholder and therefore it requires a certain assumption on a woman's part to say that she is pretty?  Anyway...I'm starting to catch glimpses of my outer beauty again.  Long-term weight loss tends to blur the mirror in this regard.  As of today, I've lost 53 lbs since Christopher was born.  40 of those pounds were baby weight and fell off relatively quickly (I think in 7 mos?).  The last 13 have been a b#$!h to shed.  But they're gone.  I have about 13 more to lose to get to my 'realistic goal' weight - the weight I was and maintained for 2 years while Colton was a toddler.  My 'crazy weight loss' goal is 10 more past that weight, as my doctor told me that was where I should be ideally.  If it is life consuming to get to that weight and maintain it, it's a no-go and the doctor can suck it.  As it is, I bought an Ann Taylor dress at a thrift store in May, a 'motivation dress' if you will, with the goal of wearing it by Labor Day.  I fit into it today!  I'll probably need to wear a shaper with it, as it is a sheath style dress and hugs my tum a bit more than I'm comfortable with at this point, but there's no more arm chub at the gathers.

I'm coming into my own, gaining new confidences everyday.  The 30s are by far the greatest decade yet.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Brought to you with a large serving of "air quotes"

The following is what my goofy little mind came up with when my brain crossed reading a Facebook friend's status about having Christmas carols stuck in his head (in August, the blasphemy!) with the joys of parenting at summer's end.  It is my [poor] attempt at parody, and in Weird Al fashion, I have a mental music video that goes along with it - primarily frazzled moms air quoting each 'wonderful' in the song, in lieu of jazz hands.

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
With the kids always yelling
And every mom telling you "It’s that time of year" 
It's the most wonderful time of the year 
It's the hap-happiest season of all
With those back-to-school greetings and PTA meetings 
When Busy comes to call 
It's the hap- happiest season of all 

There are routines to re-enlist 
New bedtimes on which to insist 
And children hollering “NO!” 
There'll be harried mom stories 
And tales of the glories of 
Back-to-schools long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
There is much limit testing 
And siblings contesting 
Poor Mom yearns for beer 
It's the most wonderful time of the year 

There are routines to re-enlist 
New bedtimes on which to insist 
And children hollering “NO!” 
There'll be harried mom stories 
And tales of the glories of 
Back-to-schools long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year 
There is much limit testing 
And siblings contesting 
Poor Mom yearns for beer 
It's the most wonderful time 
It's the most wonderful time 
It's the most wonderful time 
When the School Bus draws near!!!!!

In all seriousness, summer's been fun, but I'm ready for a little daily distance to make my heart fonder of the two older ones.  The whining and the sibling rivalry-esque competitions are wearing me down!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Befuddlement

So, uh, HI!!

It's been awhile.

Again.

But it's not just you, bloggies.

And it's not just my IRL friends, whom I've also been neglecting.

It's me.  I've been resting my fingers on the pause button of my remote control for life, wanting the world to stop spinning momentarily so I. Could. Just. Gather. My. Thoughts. Just. ONCE!  Seriously, I feel a bit ADD lately, starting chores, only to think, "Oh, but wait, I forgot to pray with God!," and turn to do that and then say, "Oh look, a Cheerio!  Hmm...I'm hungry," and that's just on my own, without the kids interrupting.

They magnify this distractedness I've been feeling about 10,000 fold.

I've gotta get a grip on summer.

And my head.  There's so much rolling around in it that I can't seem to grab a coherent moment with myself.

working on it.

But that means I may be taking a summer break from rambling.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Penetrating Through the Shadows

Some people think that saying or writing the negative things we think just lends credence to irrational fears, giving them, the fears, the power to cripple oneself, sort of a reverse affirmation if you will.

And I used to agree with them.

But over the past year, so many fears and doubts have lurked in the back of my mind, all ambiguous and shadowy, intangible and so difficult to ascertain just what it is that is robbing my joy that I don't really know what I'm afraid of, just that there is a general sense of trepidation as mental bogeymen hedge about furtively in the depths of my soul.

They're just shadows, too, these bogeymen.

Some are completely warped, the sort that, in the room of a child who is afraid of the dark let's say, appear to be gremlins or hobgoblins and have the ability to not only paralyze a child with fear but also bring with them the gift of wakeful insomnia.  Given some time, explorations [often made by a loving parent], and a flip of the light-switch, these shadows are the ones that are eventually revealed as being the result of the neighbor's misshapen tree outside the bedroom window, blowing in a storm.  Nothing a rational person would fear.

Others may have a basis in reality, but are grossly exaggerated, as most actual shadows are.  For instance, my personal shadow, while based on my body, will at times - depending on the angle of the sun, time of day, etc. - illustrates me as having legs a mile long, with a teensy, tiny little head, and skinny arms that extend forever.  Clearly not a true picture of my actual form!

Anyways, sometimes identifying the shadows, speaking them and what you're feeling, is the first step to illumination and seeing them for what they really are.

[whew - this is turning into a lengthy preamble - who's still with me?]

All of this to say that yesterday, I went running for the first time since Thursday [on account of I had some knee pain last week and was trying to rest it a bit].  My knees felt great (Praise GOD!), I was feeling good, hit my mile right at 10:02 [which is not my fastest but is a good comfortable pace for me] and kept going.

Until about 1.5 miles.

Suddenly my legs were tight, my lungs constricting, my body burning with fatigue.  Out came the bogeymen, their shadowy appendages poking at my heart but never fully revealing themselves.  [in less flowery vernacular, and more concisely put - my stress level had a detrimental impact on my performance - but that is too simple and not rambly enough for this blog, eh?  Also?  You don't say? Stress can kill performance, well, how about that!]

So I walked.

But I didn't walk in defeat.  I was in tears, and some of the fears were really getting me.

You're not going to make it at Boulder.  All this hype, all this work for a YEAR and you are going to let your fears get you and paralyze you.

I cried out, like a child afraid of the dark, for my Father.  My Heavenly Father.  I begged Him to come into the dark, shadow-filled recesses of my mind and flood His light into the space - so that the cause of the shadows could be exposed, and I could see the hobgoblins for the trees they may have been.

I realized that as some of the fears shifted from the shadows into an actual form, that is a thought, that these thoughts were all in the 2nd person - YOU statements, not I statements.


And this is where I hesitate - as I always get self-conscious talking about spiritual warfare and "voices" having worked with people who audibly heard voices in their heads.  The need to disclaim "This is different," sits within me.

In the negative inner dialogs of my mind, I have plenty of I statements, more than I'd care to admit, so this is not just an observation of mental semantics, a rationalization made of split hairs.  No, as I realized this, I felt as if someone or something was feeding me these thoughts.

From the beginning of this journey, I have desired my running accomplishments to be a testament to God's redemptive work in my body, a way to open the door to talk about the greater works He has done in my whole life.  I didn't want the glory, but for God to have it, as He deserves it.  And yet, here was this voice, making it all about me, and what I could or couldn't do.

Meanwhile, my Father did as asked of Him and put His Word upon my heart: cliché as it may sound, scenes from David and Goliath flashed in my mind.

In regards to the voice of negativity, I was reminded of Saul telling David that he shouldn't even think of trying to take the giant down.  Also?  That I CAN run 6.2 miles, because I did it about a month ago.  And I will again, because I hadn't even made it for a full 3 miles before I ran my 5k.

Finally, regarding who gets credit - David's confidence in the Lord and words to Goliath just before he accomplished the most widely known TKO of history rang in my ears:

"... but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies—the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. Today the Lord will conquer you... and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel!  And everyone assembled here will know that the Lord rescues his people, but not with sword and spear. This is the Lord’s battle, and he will give you to us!”

There are half a dozen other bogeymen crouching in my mind's eye that I must shed some light on - so if I'm on the quiet side, just know that I'm working through some things.
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

A Most Triumphant Tuesday

At this time last year, this post is going to press at 11:19pm, I had already been escorted via ambulance, without a family member or support person, from an urgent care center to my hospital's ER, had already been x-rayed, and stuck with numerous needles, and was only just beginning a journey I'd not planned on, nor knew just where it would take me.  Sometime after 11 that night, I was going in for my first CT scan - to determine just how bad the infection, which had perforated my lung and seeped into my chest cavity, was.

Or so we thought.

As it would turn out, the initial prognosis would not be accurate, and provided a false hope, the first of many to come, that a chest tube would sufficiently drain the infection from my chest cavity and the antibiotics would work on the infection in my lungs.

I was just 16 days post-partum, and while at times I was delirious with fever and pain, somehow I was able to remain cogently focused on what needed to happen for not only me but our whole family to get through this;
...Oh, dear God, this angel in my arms just got to meet me, and the other two still have so much mothering needed - surely they need me more than You need me!  And Seth's faith, it's still in process and I fear if I were to pass that he would crumble.  Please spare me and heal me so that I can do your will with my family and reflect your glory to everyone with whom I interact!


So, once that primary business was attended to, then it was:
...I need to advocate for my baby's well-being, for me to continue to nurse him I need to receive meds that are compatible with breast-feeding...
I need my breast pump, and there are formula samples at home to help with the baby's immediate food needs...
Does this hospital have those fabulous breast-feeding gowns that the sister hospital, where I'd had Christopher, did?  If not, I need some nursing jammies from home...
We need people - family, neighbors, those from our church circles -  to help with the two older children getting to school and maintaining normalcy...
We need to contact our insurance broker, as our new plan was just days from kicking in...
Seth needs to be able to work, having just had some unpaid leave for Christopher's birth, we couldn't afford him to miss more...

My blackberry was heavily used while I was in the hospital.  I alerted my online friends from the past 9 years to what was unfolding via Facebook on it.  I e-mailed our church's list-serve with updates on it, made phone calls, etc. to deal with the details that floated through my head.  Technology is a wonderful asset and I will never take it for granted.

But...this is where this post is misguided and turning into something I hadn't intended.

I don't intend to relive those long days, as someone who is haunted by them, with this post.  I've already done that here, in case you are so inclined now that I've piqued the interest of those who do not know the story.


Rather, I meant to say that today was a triumph and a day of countless gratitudes.  Beginning with hearing this song first thing this morning, as I took the kids to school.

I know the initial part of the song is about a mother losing her child, but as I heard these lines;

To think that providence would

Take a child from his mother while she prays

Is appalling. 

I couldn't help but think that we were so close to the situation being reversed, to my infant son never getting to know his mother, who loved him and prayed for him while she knit him together in the womb.  I didn't fully realize just how close I was until this winter when I heard about a woman that some church friends of ours knew, exact same age and circumstance as me, who'd gone septic from her pneumonia and died from lesions the sepsis caused on her brain.  And tears formed in my eyes as I sang along with the chorus:

This is what it means to be held. 

How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life 

And you survive. 

This is what it is to be loved. 

And to know that the promise was 

When everything fell we'd be held. 

God held me, in the shelter of his unfailing arms, as everything that had been a constant in my life suddenly became tenuous and unknown.

He held my husband and my children, granting them peace and assurance that I couldn't.

He held my baby boy through the arms of all his grandparents and the many surrogate "aunts" that emerged from our church body so that he was always comforted with a physical touch of love, clean outfits, dry diapers and soothing movements when tubes and exhaustion tied my hands from providing these to him.

He whispered encouragements into my ear as His lovingkindness inspired the visitors from our church who sat with me.  One of these moments I treasure the most came from an older woman from church who, after I'd confided that I felt weak in my faith because I was finding it difficult to count all the trials as joy, responded that even Jesus, God himself in the flesh, knowing all things, had asked our Heavenly Father to change his circumstances if it were in His will.

He provided [and continues to do so] for us financially during the resulting financial maelstrom.

I could tell of these things forever, in the many ways that my Heavenly Father has held me during a hellacious year, but it is getting late.  Suffice to say that in some ways I'm still being held by Him, and in others, I've grown enough to let go and, as His agent, seek others who need holding - yet another blessing, because without this experience I wouldn't be able to minister to those in similar situations.

I'm thankful that a year later, the only lasting effects are felt in the occasional itches of my incision scars and our pocketbook.  The first is SO minor, right?  And the second is going to be ok...just need to allow time and faith to do their work daily.

I am alive.  And beyond that, I am fit and healthy, and can hold a normal lung capacity's worth of air on an inspirometer with ease, unlike the 1/4 capacity it pained me to achieve a year ago.

I've had 365 tomorrows in which to love my husband and mother my 3 wonderful children, and countless more to come.

I have family who love me unconditionally.  Family determined by the bonds of blood, marriage, and the common threads of faith.

I received notice that my Bolder Boulder packet is ready for me to pick up tomorrow.  It is happening.  I am running my first 10k (on record - I ran one on my own a couple of weeks ago just to prove to myself I could) on Memorial Day - in celebration of the anniversary of me being released from the hospital.

And my God has helped me and held me in order to get here the whole way long.

How's that for triumphant?







© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Circular Arguments

Scene:

Casa del Meyer living room, after children have been put to rest for the night.

Book from the library, with a rather pointed title, pointing to the same issue which the Missus has made several passing comments about over the past month, which has really been an off and on again issue since Christopher's birth, lays on the coffee table.

Me: So, uh, I got this book [nods in direction of the coffee table] at the library yesterday.  I, uh, was looking for this other book and saw it, and thought it might be helpful in sparking some discussion, as my attempts to clearly have dead-ended.  I'm frustrated that we can't talk, constructively, about this issue and well, I thought maybe we could read the book together?

Seth: Well, uh, I'm not really a book kinda guy.

Me: I'm aware, but I'm asking you to be.  Or to at least dialogue with me about the issue.

Silence.

More Silence.

I open my mouth to say something.  But don't - the air catches in my throat.  A few times.

Then.

Me: See?!?  That's what I'm talking about!  I'm trying to go about this the "right" way [this is replete with air quotes from me because I'm really frustrated at the lack of dialogue when I've tried to initiate conversations on the subject several times before and this is just turning out to be an encore performance] and you still won't talk, or even acknowledge that you might, someday, eventually talk with me about this.

Seth: Well, I don't really get the big deal.  And., it's not really very fair to me that you stew all day or all week, or what have you about whatever the issue of the day is and then I have to have all the answers for you the minute you want to talk about it.

Me: I don't really see that it's me stewing about it when I ask you to think about it and we can discuss at a later time, but hey, that's just me.

More words are said, but I go to bed feeling defeated.

And more unattractive and undesirable than ever.

Because really, should it be this hard [sorry, double entendre there] difficult?

A few days later.

Me: So, I get that you're not a book guy, and I said that's cool, if we can at least talk about it, and I was wondering if you will talk with me now?

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I do not feel that the issue, which is not a make-the-marriage-or-break-it issue [right now] but is nonetheless important to me, is resolved.  In fact, it just makes me feel as if anytime I bring an issue to light, need not be this issue per se, and get the ole "I haven't had time to think about it," response that basically means we will be fighting the same circular arguments thru time immemorial. We really are doing pretty good with each other, but I feel like this is foundational erosion and we need to be on guard.

And it makes me feel disconnected from my husband.

And not pretty/attractive/desirable/feminine despite significant efforts :ahem, 40 lbs and counting! weight loss: over the past year to be those things.

And disregarded - that I have had the willingness to make myself vulnerable and share my heart with him, and he has, in essence, ignored me.

I am fairly certain like 99% sure that his disinterest is not due to the same things it has been in the past - which is a huge blessing - but this unwillingness to change the tides is really frustrating.

Especially since I'm peaking, so to speak.  :blush: 

In the meantime, we do have a retreat we're going to, sans kids, this weekend in beautiful Estes Park - so maybe there will be sparks in the free time we have ;)



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Catch Up and Keep Up

When I worked for Neighboring City, my office had just had a Housing Needs Assessment done, particularly focusing on supply and demand of housing that was affordable to households earning 80% or less of the area median income.  One of the things the consultant who conducted the needs assessment created was a schedule to catch up the housing stock needed at certain price points (with which the city was to incent developers to create) as well as keep up with projected demands based on industries that were growing, etc.

It was scintillating reading.  Or maybe scintillating is in the eye of the beholder.

All of that to say I'm in need of a lot of catching up and keeping up myself.

Household chore wise - ha!  I've never gotten to where I feel "caught up" for very long, much less kept it up for any period of time.  Suffice to say with me being sick last week, and the kids having been out of school, that things are bit behind right now, and I'm slowly digging out.

Financially - this is the hard, gut-wrenching part for us. 

We've been in a constant struggle for just at a year now and it's wearing.  A year ago, I was just about to have Christopher and Seth's work had been through a slow spell which left us juggling a bit.  Then we had Chris, Seth took one week of unpaid leave, and two weeks later, I had my 12 day stint at the hospital.  Well, then we were REALLY strapped, and that was just with our regular bills. 

The medical debt hadn't started to hit yet.

Our church helped substantially, which helped us steady ourselves and gain some composure.  We submitted a claim to AFLAC for both the birth and my subsequent hospitalization.

But, as things trickled in, as it took several months for all of the medical bills to make themselves known, it became clear that it wasn't enough.  We called several of the first creditors we had and tried to make payment arrangements as best we could.  Some wanted their money in total by 4 months, others would spread it out a year, and so on.  But we didn't end up calling all of our creditors and making payment arrangements, because quite honestly, there was no more money in the month to give in the way of payment installments.

In October, we used Seth's annual bonus to catch things up, both domestic and medical.

By November, we needed help again, and we borrowed against Seth's 401k plan.  We paid my surgical bill off completely and once again caught up on the priority bills; mortgage, car, doctors, insurance.

We hadn't made a payment on our Home Depot account in quite some time, and those medical creditors with whom we'd never made payment arrangements sent us to collections.  But what could I tell them, "Gee, I know we owe you money, but we have to pay this stuff down before we can pay you because we just don't have it right now?"  Yeah, that's gonna go over well.  And, as soon as those things wound up in collections, we got a note from our auto insurance that basically said,

Since your credit now sucks balls, we're afraid you're not going to pay us 1.) in a timely fashion or 2.) ever again.  Therefore, your monthly payment is going UP $40/month because we believe in the tool known as the self-fulfilling prophecy.  Good day!

We attempted Christmas gifts for everyone - mostly on the cheap and homemade end - but perhaps we shouldn't have.

Because at this time, we got behind on our mortgage for the first time in all of this, and then everything has seemed to spiral out since. 

Our [sizable] tax refund came and went - going to tie up medical debts (paid off my OBGYN, paid off the hospital, paid off some other doctor's fees), a large payment to Home Depot (they'd made an offer to us of making a "matching payment" on our account if we could pay $x), two mortgage payments, utility catch up, etc.

I started talking to our mortgage lender about a modification and have been working on getting all of the documentation together for it. 

And putting numbers down on the paper, I now see why we haven't been able to stay afloat:  We have more expenses than income.  And by quite a lot.

It's hard, because now we're to the point of looking at another 401k loan, to catch up.  And the AFLAC claim hadn't paid out properly, so we're waiting on a copy of my surgical report to send to them, which will trigger an additional payment to us.

To keep up we're hoping the mortgage loan modification goes through and that we'll be able to allocate some of what was going to the mortgage amount to our medical debts and eventually pay them off. 

Our health insurance premium is going up another $100/month due to "increased costs in healthcare overall."

It just sucks. 

My husband works his tail off to provide for us, 50+ hours a week of physically and mentally demanding work - and he makes decent enough money.  I cut costs where ever possible, and we do not live an extravagant lifestyle.  I mean, I've taken to baking our breads (including hamburger buns) and making our own laundry detergent to pinch pennies!  And yet we struggle through.  We're not "poor" enough to be eligible for any kind of assistance (though I just discovered we may be eligible to get the kids on a state health care program, which could decrease our health premium - which is killing us, but you can't not have insurance these days) and yet we certainly aren't rich by any stretch of the word.

We have some toys, the motocross bikes and gear, that if worse came to worse, could probably be sold, though the "cost" of my kids and husband losing their main recreational outlet would be pretty large.  But really, there's not a lot to just liquidate of value around our house.  Our computer is old.  Our TV, though a flat screen and of decent size, is dated (it's 4 yrs old now I think) and not competitive with what is available at the big-box stores.

What do y'all do to cut costs?



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

The Longest Week

So I lied when I told you all I'd have Foodie Friday up for last week - I had good intentions, and wrote the post with the recipe and everything, but failed to hit publish - sue me.

Good news is, y'all will have access to a yummy tortilla soup recipe as of tomorrow :)

My sister is married, and had an awesome wedding day.  Getting there was a tad stressful, as any wedding is, but we were successfully free of drama and I was so proud of everyone for making nice and playing well together.  Click on over for my pictures (some of which were taken by my kids and thus not the best!) and my brother's pictures.  More to come, but for now this is what ya get and ya won't throw a fit.  I learned many talents while preparing for my sister's wedding, including (but not limited to):

• how to stem, pin, and arrange stephanotis, as well as the preparation/arrangement of tulips, roses, various mums and carnations into bouquets rivaling any professional florists' renditions that I've seen. 
  I might add that they were created at approximately 2:00am the morning OF the wedding, which was also spring forward, so it was really 3:00am!
  
  
  
   
  check those bad boys out!
• how to cut giant tissue paper puffy flower thingies that hung from the rafters in the reception room

Channeling Martha

It was kinda like watching the HS gym turn into prom,
seeing the reception room transform

• circa the 1500s, I learned how to shove a woman into a dress that would later cut all circulation off of her, and actually bruise her ribs.  Sorry Kaylie, but it had to be done!

We came home Monday, and I had something going on at our house (it's part of my Not Me Monday, so can't give it away!) so we had to hurry up and prep for that.

Tuesday, I had my Bible Study in the morning, it was gorgeous out so I HAD to go for a run, went grocery shopping as I'd avoided filling the food coffers since we'd be out of town, came home, cooked for a college choral group coming to our church to give a performance, dropped food off, came home and cooked for my sister, my brothers and their significant others since my brother and his GF were moving and I thought it would be nice if they could eat a homecooked meal instead of paying to eat out since all their stuff was packed.  I had a wonderful time doing all of it, and would do it all over again, but I WAS POOPED!

Yesterday, I had prayer group in the morning, but again, it was SO GLORIOUS outside I knew I'd have to take advantage of this rare March day and went for a quick run once the older kids got put on the bus.  Went to lunch after prayer group with the girls, came home, cooked a bit, kids got home (early release on Weds.) and we proceeded to soak up some rays in the yard, conducting the great Spring Poop Scoop.  Had some doggy drama, cooked dinner and then left for Wednesday night church.  Came home.  Passed out from exhaustion.

Today I am fabulously unscheduled and I'm hoping to reclaim my house from the dishes and laundry that are taunting me and holding my inner peace hostage.

Why is it that weekends away seem to take 10 days on average to recover from?

Further, why is it that Spring Forward acts as an exponent instead of a simple multiplier in the amount of recovery needed?

Oy.


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Work in Progress

I'm working on a post, but it keeps getting too long and Lifetime Movie like on me.

It's about going from being concerned about body image to having what I'd like to call a healthy body "perspective."

So, don't leave me - I'm just wrestling the words out and editing them.

I'll have a Foodie Friday for tomorrow, and then I'm going to be getting wedding'd out for my little sister.

Peace,



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Day of Affirmations

Monday was a treasure of a day, you know, that rare day that you wish you could laminate, tuck into your back pocket and stare at on hard days?  Like a sobriety coin or the serenity prayer or some other such token designed to give both a reminder and moment of perspective.

It came on the heels of an abnormal Sunday.


Normally we go to church and worship our God with the greatest church family we could ask for, but alas, Colton had awakened me at o'dark-thirty Sunday morning with that pungent smell that makes a parent gag at the prospect of the work to come: VOMIT.  Thus, we remained home, opting to keep our GI bug to ourselves, because we are loving and kind and thoughtful like that.

I was beyond tired, as I'd had to change the sheets, try to scrape the big chunks off the dirty ones [blech!!], go downstairs and rummage through the bowls to find a suitable repository for future episodes, and then tuck my little guy back into bed, only to not so much later be awakened by a feverish and coughing baby.  This mom job has got some wonky hours.

I'd used Sunday to get a TON of housework done and scarcely sat down except to eat, drink or use the bathroom.  Meanwhile, my husband obliviously looked on and was perfectly content to laze about, lifting nary a finger of aid, with the kids watching TV for a full day.  That sly ole witch Resentment tiptoed into my mind.

"Why is it that you had to give up your sleep AND do all the work?"

"Shut up, Resentment*.  He works 50+ hours of manual labor a week to keep the roof over our head."

"Yeah, well you work hard 24/7 with no holidays or anything!"

* This is purely for your literary entertainment - as crazy as I may get from time to time, I do not ACTUALLY have conversations with personified emotions.

True enough, I thought - but I've been trying so hard to keep a peaceful and content perspective and just be a good Christian wife - so, I let it go, albeit with a few heavy sighs, as I tend to do.

---
Monday arrived with gorgeously clear blue skies - with none of the clouds that had uncharacteristically been plaguing the Colorado skies for nearly a week.

That alone was a dose of positivity to my soul, let alone the warmer temperatures promised by the forecasters.  I'd not been able to get out and run but once in the previous 2 weeks.

And seeing Kelsey beam from ear to ear as she carried in her homemade birthday cupcakes to class, because now that I'm staying at home I can make time for those special touches that I couldn't when I was working.  That smile spoke volumes of affirmations to me, the junkie of all words of appreciation love languagers.  Those affirmations said, "It is right that you are staying at home, even if it is hard at times.  It is making such a difference to them.  Et. Cet. Er. A."

When the baby and I got home, I spent some time in the Word and prayed for my prayer group friends, then set about tidying up the kitchen for a bit.  And there she was.  Resentment, grinning at me and begging to come in and dish about all the things husbands do wrong and why can't they just help a little bit without having to be asked?

I looked at the clock and noticed the outdoor temp was well above 30 degrees, and with the sun, well, "Resentment, check you later," I said, "I'm going for a run to clear my head."

The air felt so pure, so quenching to my lungs that hungered for something more than the stale air of the indoors.  The sun steeped me in energy and I could feel the cells within me come alive.  I had my baby, my music, and my God with me and all was right in the world as I found my rhythm.  The songs on the Slacker playlist were all up tempo - Third Day's Come Together pumped me up and we were off, well on our way to outpace my usual mile time.

I silently told God that I didn't want to have these feelings of resentment - that I knew we both did a lot to contribute to our family and that it was all part of the tradeoffs - woman stays home and man decides she has more time to do things around the house, that going out and making a living is all he has to do, that he's off the clock when he comes home.  Even if it isn't exactly true, I could see how things could get construed that way. I prayed for a peaceful and amicable resolution.

Midway through my second mile, after my first long hill, my phone buzzed with a text from Seth:

Sorry I was such a slug yesterday, but thanks for letting me be one.  First Monday in ages that I feel totally rested.  <3 you, S.

It was ex.act.ly what I needed at that moment, and my heart soared.

I love you too babe.  So much. 

And the tears of gratitude welled in the corners of my eyes as my cheeks turned upward.

My thoughts turned heavenward - Thank you, Father , you've done so much in us and for us these past few years - always, really, but especially in the past few years.


The rest of my run was good.  Could've been great but seeing as I was low on sleep due to Sunday's events and that I'd run hard on Saturday and was still sore, I maxed out fairly early and only made it 2 1/2 miles instead of the 5 I'd been working toward.  I walked the remainder of the loop and returned home, free of Resentment's haggling.

Awhile later the phone rang.

It was Seth.

"So my Dad called..."

Oh no - the stupid car loan bank called them since they are a reference on the loan.  Great.


"And their church has decided to send us a check to help with the finances."

"What?!?"  Tears were now falling down my face, as I'd just been looking at our checkbook much like the widow with the oil must have looked at her oil jar - not worried, but knowing that it would eventually run out, and soon.

"How great is our God, right?"

No kidding.  He has been SO GOOD to us, always, but especially this past year in all our trials, He has been with us all the way and taking care of us so faithfully.

And how He loves me (and you, and you, and you) - so much that he gave me a whole day with affirmations JUST for me, whom he knows by the hairs on my head, so why wouldn't he know just the tricks for me?

I like days like that.

Plus, I had GREAT hair after the shower I took to rid myself of the running stench.

Does it GET any better?



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