An E-mail From the School, Subject Line - Re: LMNOB

Yesterday, I received said e-mail from the school's OT while I was at the Front Page training.

This canNOT be good...

And my heart stopped, knowing the craziness that has recently ensued from her.

Oh crap...she's finally lost her sh!t at school.

I clicked it, gingerly. Well, as gingerly as possible, seeing as a mouse click is an either you did or you didn't kind of thing.

And sucked some serious wind inward through the gulps of relief that followed as I read:

Heather-
I was wondering if you could help me. I have a parent at another school who needs some contacts for OTs at SouthCountyHealthSystem. I am familiar with the OTs at NorthCountyHealthSystem but not SouthCountyHealthSystem... the student has some fine and visual motor needs. I know that LMNOB sees an OT through SouthCountyHealthSystem -so any names or contacts would be helpful.
Thanks,

School OT

Phewwwwwwwwww....Well, yes, duh, I think I can handle that.

I replied, saying as much - with the following caveat:

Favor - when sending an e-mail like this, can you please change the subject to better reflect the e-mail's topic? LMNOB had a horrendous weekend (I spent most of it crying) and when I saw your name with the subject line "LMNOB" I went into panic mode. When I opened it, though, I was much relieved - I am happy to help.

Because, somehow I do not think "inadvertently causing heart failure in our students' parents" bodes well as a selling point for your school's "supportive services."

Ask and It Shall Be Added Unto You...

Today, in an e-mail responding to DSW's concerned, "Is today any better?" I wrote out my answer, saying yes and no.

This morning was rough. LMNOB threw a massive fit about clothes, and then when I told her I was going to the bathroom and needed a few minutes, she clung to me with fury. I shut the door on her, but it stuck (something about new construction homes and the settling process), so I popped it pretty firmly and it closed. Right on LMNOB's finger because she. WOULDN'T. leave. me . alone.

I was horrified - you see, I was horribly angry when I was trying to close up the door, and now, because of my anger, my child was hurt.

So, no...this morning hadn't gone particularly well, but, I explained, I was at work, and a cake-like work day at that, and so I wasn't sure what the day would have just yet.

I closed saying,

I just need a day without MAJOR meltdowns. Just one day where normal whines
occur and no major clashing of the wills...

Ask and ye shall receive....

Enter the retail therapy.

Enter coming home to happy children and one Charlie Brown who is eager to take the kids out for a walk on a lark, a walk in the dark, near a park, (Dr. Seuss is turning in his grave, I know) while I cooked dinner.
Oh, honey, that is sooooooooooooo sexy. Mmmm....oh, and did I mention he brought home some Blue Moon, which is only one of my favoritest beers?

The children were good eaters, for the most part. They were behaved. The homework got done. They only whined a little, and halfheartedly - that kind of whining for sport whining - at bedtime.

And just like that, our lives got relieved of some pressure. I even got a post up for my school discussion thread.

So now I can in good conscience share this youtube with you - as this man is a genius who totally gets the married with kids thing:



Thank you, Lord for having mercy on me.

So Desperate - I've Seriously Considered

Dialing 1-877-626-6984, leaving the receiver off the hook for about 5 minutes, and then asking, "'Nuf said? When will we be filming?" Also, because I've only watched the show a few times, I wonder if Jo Frost has ever touched on special needs on the show. Cuz, uhm, I'd like to know if she is still so super duper in cases like ours?

Today was nice though - I've been assigned the web maintenance duties for my office's webpage on the city's site, but alas! I am ignorant of the ways of Front Page, and our IT dept designated teacher of all things Front Page is not a very good imparter of knowledge. He is stingy with it and likes to talk a lot yet manage to somehow avoid actually exchanging the information we new page designer peoples sorely lack. All that to say that I got to spend all day offsite, actually learning the skillz and :Gasp!: how to apply said skillz in a practical fashion.

And, when we got done slightly early (just how slightly I'll never tell) - I went on a retail therapy excursion that totaled about what an hour of talk therapy would amount to...only it was good for multiple hours, so I got my money's worth.

:sigh: Now the real test of recovery is what the munchkins will be like when I go to pick them up from daycare shortly.

Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program: Maternal Overwhelm

The kids have been crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrazay rotten the past 4 days.

Ev.er.Y.thing has been a fight of late. Listening has left the building.

Yesterday was Charlie Brown's one Saturday for work this month, and well, I began melting down with maternal overload last night.

First, I clapped my hands over my head and walked in circles, droning, "Loud noises - make them stop!"

Then I figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and created some of my own loud noises, in effort to motivate.

When that didn't work, I cried. Guttural, body wrenching cries of complete frustration that THIS is what my life has become.

Yes, this does sound rather poor me - wait, it gets worse.

This morning, LMNOB was all up in arms about our difference of opinion re: her church attire. We were late to bible study. I was totally frustrazzled (like that? I thought it had a nice ring to it).

We got to church, and after study, one of the ladies I've known for years said, "How've ya been?"

I responded with, "Tired." Somehow, that isn't quite clear in my recollection, I'd gotten around to telling her about the latest with Loveland's inclement weather shelter (can't tell you more about that until the press release hits the streets) and how it had been crazy on Friday, having to run LMNOB to her OT appointment, and then have to keep her in my office while I attended the meeting I'd been summoned to that afternoon to discuss shelter operations, liabilities, etc.

She questioned why LMNOB was going to OT.

I then shared a little bit of my personal hell with her - explaining Sensory Processing Disorder, what that meant for us, and just how much work it was, both in the home activities and the weekly visits to Bt the OT.

And it got to me. I started crying. At one point, I was heard saying, "Oh, but listen to me - I'm complaining, and really it could be so much worse, right?"

She reassured me that I was not complaining, I was sharing my life with her.

We sat down for the services. Charlie Brown was leading the song service, so it was me and the kids with DSW and her husband next to us.

After communion, when the kiddies were dismissed to Children's Bible Hour, I went to take Punkinhead - and he was kicking and screaming - making a right good riot. I took him into the bathroom to have a talking to with him when a new woman intervened, and gave Punkinhead the role of social savior to him for her son - as in, "We're new here and don't have many friends yet - could you help him?" Punkinhead gleefully went at that.

I broke down. Guilt washed over me as the raw emotions hit the surface.

This is so much work -it's not worth it

Nothing I do is changing anything - this is our life day in and day out

Shall I praise the Lord for this parental purgatory?

I told you, it was way more poor me.

I'll spare you the further details - suffice to say my eyes are tired, my shoulders tense, and my head's a-throbbin'.

It must be catching too, this totally overwhelmed state of helplessness, as a BUNCH of people went forward at church this morning, confessing similar struggles, I think; I was too busy sobbng in the ladies room to know.

So that dream I was telling you about?

Three weeks ago, I had a meeting to attend for the soon to be built LocalResourceSuperCenter for persons near-homeless or homeless.

One of the attendees was the woman I had shared my first office with when I'd worked for the community mental health center. (There is a lot of history in that link) She was an awesome therapist at the time, and had listened to me bemoan the situations I had been in many a time.

When we were doing our introductions, she noted that she was now the director of the Ft. Collins offices for the center. Then she made mention of how we had shared an office years ago, and that I was "fun and diligent" to work with. The woman who had been my second supervisor at the center as well as the guy who'd replaced my position with the homeless outreach program were also there.

As we sat discussing best practices for this project, a memories of my work with the center surfaced. My time there was so paradoxical - it was an unnerving time in my life, lacking clarity, yet in the end, it gave me the greatest confidence I have ever had about myself.

The meeting continued, and ended as planned.

That week, as things to do piled up more and more, I began to doubt myself and my priorities.

At one point, I sat crying out to God, asking Him what the right way to go was.

That night, I dreamed. But it wasn't a dream so much as it was a memory that I'd forgotten - because I remembered this odd occurrence actually happening when I awoke.

I was back at the mental health center - looking for information on a grant regulation. I'd gone to my Project Manager's office and he handed me several large binders of HUD stuff, saying that one day I "would be writing the rules."

I remember having been all, "Whatever, weirdo," at the time. But in hindsight, it's strangely prophetic, this little exchange.

I mean, I wrote rules for the inclement weather shelter. I'm helping write "rules of best practice" for a few projects. And I'm back in school because I hope to write legislation that promotes social justice.

I've been praying for the past few weeks then, that this means what I think it means - that I am indeed on the path God has planned for me - and that if it doesn't that He can help me see with clarity what direction I need to be in.

I Will Never Forget...

...the last day of my Child Pscyhopathology and Exceptionality class at CSU. At the front of the room stood my professor, telling a heart-wrenching story about working with a boy who had been horribly abused. I sat in the room, newly pregnant and bawling, as this man stood before us with tears in his eyes, face screwed up, explaining that sometimes the hardest part of working with kids [in "the system"], "is not knowing if you told the truth when you told a kid that ‘everything would work out.’"

It's the same in any form of social services, really. Particularly if the persons you are dealing with have some kind of limitation, be it mental illness, substance abuse, developmental disability, or youth, capping the likelihood that you will ever truly know how things worked out.

Social work in this regard is like an addiction, wherein we service providers must chant the same mantra heard around the globe in 12 step groups, "Let go and let God." Because really, we can't hang on to the worry and the wondering if we are to effectively serve the others who're waiting in line, equally in need of help.

This afternoon, I heard a song that moved me to tears, along this same vein of thought. Plumb's In My Arms. Wow - she's got such an amazing voice. And the lyrics are such a wonderfully blended tribute to parental love, worry, and devotion. And then I remembered, this wasn't a crossover version - I'd turned it over to WAY FM the night before...Entered the tears as I fully realized the implications: As parents, our children aren't always going to rest in our arms. But the Heavenly Father's arms are still there. Always. No matter what. And how He must agonize about our storms that rage within us, and life's waves that crash over us.

Take a break and listen...the video is from The Nativity Story...then read the rest of this - it's amazing.

I thought of Jason. And his mother. I prayed for them immediately. They have been on my mind constantly.

Tonight, at 9:15, my phone rang. My home phone. Jason had only had my cell number.

It was Jason, on his mother's cell phone. Sober. He’s been in RegionalDetox since Saturday night. He sounded good, and clear. Though I'd told a woman at church that I was "sure that we'd hear more from/about Jason," I'd mentally prepared myself for closure to remain elusive, as it tends to be. I don't know why - God has been so obvious in this throughout - We just happened to be in the right place at the right time; An addict just happened to be very honest with me; His mother just happened to be a believer who's been praying for her son - a little contrived for merely circumstancial coincidences, dontcha think? He is being transported to an intensive substance abuse treatment program in Denver tomorrow by a family friend. I encouraged him, and told him I'd had a multitude of people praying for him. I told him I hoped this would be it for him. I asked him why he'd called, pointing out that he didn’t owe me anything, that he barely knew me from Eve.

He said that there was just something different – that I was not the naïve person he was accustomed to conning into helping him – something had told him not to lie with me [too much], that normally he wouldn’t have bothered to follow up with a virtual stranger, and that this something different had made him want to call me tonight.

If that’s not God, then I’ll never know what is.

Keep praying for him – he’s had a rough go at life according to his mom, and this is not his first attempt at sobriety. We need to keep his needs before the throne at every chance we get.

It all comes at a pivotal point in time for me - on the heels of an episode of huge doubts, and after a dream/memory I hadn't gotten around to blogging about last week - I promise I'll get to it soon - I'm starting to get behind the 8ball again. And it has humbled me. I don't feel worthy enough for God to be using me, and yet He is. I don't feel as if I did anything that would significantly impact Jason - and yet Christ used my life to reach out to this man in a tangible way. What an honor to do that alone.

And to get follow-up? Chills, ya'll - chills.

This is Exactly Why I Question Things

Remember my Q and S answers on this post?

Well, my good blogging friend Niki and I share that mindset. She wrote a post awhile back about the horrible trend known as "slacktivism," (bred by the perpetuation of mass e-mails containing misinformation, correct information that's horribly out of context, and/or just plain falsehoods) that resonated deeply within me.

She's on a roll again with her latest post re: the inboxer outcry against The Golden Compass. She's got some great and valid points (emphases mine):

...I noticed that all of the warnings were pointing back to the article on snopes.com. So I read the article. I followed all of the links and resources and found that in several places the author was mis-quoted or someone’s opinion about the books were stated as fact. I read a lot of people’s comments that began with “I heard”. Not very many of the people commenting and interviewing had actually read the books....

Uhm...yeah...as suspected.

...In several of the interviews I read, Mr. Pullman seemed to take issue with
believers not walking our walk. We just talk like we do. Ouch. Mr. Pullman said it’s too bad we as believers don’t live like the Gospels say we should. I can see where he gets that. We are usually uncomfortable with major differences of opinion over anything spiritual. Those we disagree with are sometimes shunned or persecuted themselves. We forget the love we’re supposed to be treating each other with. We don’t allow for much exploration and examination of faith. We tend to expect people to just accept and when someone has deep, serious questions that beg for answers, we get frustrated that they don’t just “get it” and join our cause. Could this be where he is coming from?...

Well said Niki - 'tis truth you are speaking.

Finally she wraps up with words I couldn't agree more with:

I know sometimes it’s hard to know what to speak up about and what to remain silent on. I like to think believers have good intentions when they do jump on these bandwagons. I just wish it wasn’t so selective. Since I don’t know a single person who has read these books, I’m going to read the books myself over the next few weeks and blog about what I find. But right now, here’s what I want us to think about:
1. We usually find what we’re looking for in books and movies. Good or bad.
2. Sometimes we get what we don’t bargain for. Good and bad.
3. There are spiritual lessons to be learned all around us - in both the good and bad. We shouldn’t go looking for the bad, but we shouldn’t assume everything is bad either.
4. We need to know the facts then make an informed decision.
5. We need to love and not judge those who come to different conclusions than we do. That is the way to walk our walk. There is only one judge and our role is that of the sinner. Sinners don’t get to judge other sinners…and we all are.
6. We need to pray for Mr. Pullman. Like my friend told me yesterday, he could very well be a Prodigal son. [Hammy here - totally right on...so even if you decide that the movie is not for you in the end, ought you not to be asking people to pray for this man when sending your e-mails out?]
7. What is it in us that wants to warn others? Is it true concern, or is it slacktivism?

But don't just take my word for it that she wrote a great and provocative post - go see the post in its entirety and tell her yourself.

Separating the Sheep from the Prodigals

Friday night, (it would behoove you to read that one first - I decided Heather was right -see comments - and added the hyperlink for your comprehension) the Lord impressed it upon my heart that Jason was a single lost sheep.

And God chases after those lone lost sheep, knows the strengths and weaknesses of each one, knows the very number of hairs on each of their heads, and desperately tries to bring them back.

Saturday morning, on the phone with him, he was a prodigal son, telling me that "he needed to think about it" re: the action plan I'd laid out for him. It was as follows:

Plan A - Sobriety version
Walk over to nearby, second-choice homeless shelter

Make use of their day shelter program, getting food to eat and opportunity to stay away from temptation

Walk over to the first choice shelter at night (2 blocks away from the second choice shelter, but much better staff and programs)

Hook up with the case manager and map out intensive plan to stay sober for the next 3 weeks until his personal leave from the LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram was up and he could return

Plan B - Reduction of Harm Model
Keep on drinking, ensuring that he would have to stay out on the streets for the night

However, if he made this choice, I would only be willing to help him locate gear from local resources to survive the weather.

I clearly and firmly told him that if he wanted to make the latter choice, I wouldn't judge him, but that all I would and could do for him was locating the gear. I also told him it was best to make this decision while it was daylight. He refused to make a coherent decision, insisting that he "think about it."

He did ask me to make a phone call to his mother, in Golden, though, and let her know that he was ok.

I obliged - albeit really not wanting to. I did not want to let go of this man that I barely knew. Did not want to give up on this lost sheep that God so fortuitously had put in our path. Did not want to call his mother and say, "Your son was ok last night, but I really don't know what his story is tonight."

But I did...and wonder of wonders, he'd been completely honest with me with the timeline of recent events. His mother sounded like a delightful woman, a woman etched with worry re: her son, and yet resigned to the fact that nothing she could do would help him. As defeated as she sounded about that, she was grateful that I'd called. When I told her my feelings about divine intervention, she said that I was an answered prayer for her, and how awesome that God would use the right person for this little run-in. She thought that maybe his hearing reality from someone who was a perfect stranger might sink in a little more than the family nagging him.

Jason called again at 6:30 last night, claiming to be drunk, at a church, and with staff from LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram "right next to him," but he still couldn't go back. But funny thing, said staff didn't want to talk when I asked Jason if I could speak to him.

"So, what do you think?" He asked, begging the question as to the feasibility of an encore motel stay.

"Jason, this is what I think. I think you need a lot of help, but you're not ready to accept it. I think I gave you two viable options for your personal safety, one of them that didn't exclude drinking, and you still chose to avoid making a choice. And now, you screwed yourself out of either one. That's what I think, Jason."

I could hear him gulping, as I continued,"Now, here's what I know. I know that your mother loves you, because I spoke with her this afternoon. I know that she would do whatever she could to help you. I know that she's stopped bailing you out because she knows it is not actually helping you. I know that an addict must hit rock bottom before really committing to change. Perhaps a night out in the cold will do that for you, and I am not willing to rob you of the very thing that might well change your life. I know that I will be praying for you, and my church will be, and your mother will be too. You have my number - know that you can call it any time you are ready to make a commitment."

And then he thanked me, choking up, telling me that I'd been an angel to him, an angel, he added, that didn't put up with BS.

Hanging up the phone, I let him go. Much like the prodigal son's father must have felt, I realized that Jason was no longer just a wandering sheep that had gotten lost, rather, he deliberately made an informed decision, opting for a path of destruction.

The only connection I have to this man is a couple hours in time, and his mother's phone number, and yet I am grieved.

But greater than the grief, is hope. Somehow this was all orchestrated by the Lord of Lords. And I know that even when our free will fouls up His plans, He makes lemonade with our lemons, and that this is not yet finished...God might tie this up with another encounter with Jason, or maybe this encounter, combined with my connections and work, might prove helpful in securing better discharge coordination policies*, a safe haven for people who've been using, or a more localized detox.

*Jason had been taken to RegionalDetox about a week ago, after his mom had picked him up at the airport, wherein she'd found him drunk upon return from the family funeral and had hauled his butt back to LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram. She actually didn't get him there, as he jumped out of the car, while moving. He did eventually go there on his own, and he'd been taken to RegionalDetox for a few days, but had been released on Wednesday, with nowhere to go. He'd been drinking for about 3 days straight by Friday night.

Still, Jason is a person, and I can't quite separate the sheep from the prodigal about him. Would ya'll say a prayer for him?

Peace...

Note to God: "Dude, I GET it, alright?"

Tonight Charlie Brown and I took the kids out to dinner in the North end of town. Afterwards, we dropped in at our local sporting goods store since Charlie Brown is going duck hunting in the morning and he needed to purchase his license for said excursion.

As we were leaving, this guy, about my age, asks us, "What kinda place is this?"

Naively, we stopped and answered him. It was just a hook...He approached closer as we talked about the wares inside.

"So dude, I really need a ride to TownJustNorthOfUs - can you help me out?"

Charlie Brown explained that we were going south, that it really was out of our way. Barring that, we didn't have any room in the car, what with the kids' carseats in the back.

"I'm totally stranded, man. I ain't got no place to go."

Charlie Brown looked at me, "Well, it may be your lucky night then - my wife has worked with the homeless and knows all the resources in the area."

I then suggested we get him over to the Mission. He was reluctant. He pulled out a cheap drill from under his sweatshirt and said, "If you wanted to buy this, I could go over to the motel there and spend the night out of the cold."

Charlie Brown went and put the kids in their seats in the car while I talked with the guy.

"Look, I know you're in a tight spot, but let's think about this, okay?" He nodded. "I'm a big picture kind of girl...and what comes to mind for me, is if we help you out with a motel room, you're gonna be alright for tonight, but what's your outlook going to be longterm? You might take your sobriety one day at a time, but you can't with this, not if I have anything to say about it."

He shrugged. "It's fuckin' cold out," he began. "I was staying at LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram, and my grandma died, so I left to go to Kansas City for the funeral. I just got back in town tonight."

"And you slipped, huh?" I asked, without judgment. It happens. To all of us in some form.

"Yeah, shit, I ain't gonna lie - if I were to walk into the Mission, I'd probably blow about a .35 - they'd send me straight to RegionalDetox (45minutes SW of here)."

Finishing his thoughts, I added, "And being discharged from a detox wouldn't exactly be grounds for LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram to welcome you back with open arms."

He was shivering. It was getting cool, especially considering at .35 his blood would be pretty thin, making his core temp drop, and his clothes were insufficient at best.

My mind was racing.

You help him, and you become a mark, Heather.

Yeah, but he's got absolutely no viable option - and if something were to happen to him, could you live with knowing that he asked you for help?

Make sure you're not totally being played...be careful

But even heavier on my heart was this...

Earlier this month, I'd e-mailed the man who is heading up the inclement weather shelter, after the breathalyzer difference of opinion, sharing a couple of stories, adding:

I hope that you understand that my personal convictions are just that, personal, and they match the way I live my life outside of the office. However, as a public servant, I am ethically bound to do the most good that I can for the most people that I can – which can sometimes marginalize the very people you and I have a soft spot for. It does get complicated, to be sure, – but I hope that by sharing myself with you today you understand a little more than what meets the eye.

I knew that this was another opportunity to walk that talk.

Right about then, Charlie Brown came back to talk with us.

Something he'd said wasn't jiving...I followed up on something that was bugging me..."So wait a minute, you originally asked for a ride to TownJustNorthOfUs - what were you going to do there - LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram, wouldn't take you in like this."

Sheepishly, "I'm sorry...I kinda gave you a little BS there...I don't know..."

Sternly, "Well, I tell you what, I'm pretty street wise and quick to catch on to people trying to play me, and you'd be best served by avoiding bullshit with me - I don't play that way, you hear?"

Charlie Brown backed me, "Dude, she has a frickin' BS radar, she's BS proof. I don't know how she does it; it pisses me off at times - but she's right, better be to dead honest with her."

I talked some more, thinking out loud. "Look, this is against my better judgment, but we'll get you a room for tonight only. I'm gonna follow up with you in the morning - and we're gonna figure out what your game plan is gonna be long term, alright?"

He nodded emphatically, and then he tried to give me the drill, a sign that he had some desire to contribute to helping himself.

I laughed, and said, "Dude, he's a master mechanic," nodding to Charlie Brown, "he's got more power tools than we need already. Keep it for the next guy."

He walked across the street while we drove over there.

As we waited to check him in, I told him I would be talking to him in the morning - that I would call around and see what kind of help we could get him. I then told him to be smart, and stay clear of trouble for the night.

He inquired of me, "You're a real Christian sister, ain't you?" with eyes somewhat incredulous.

I smiled, "Hell yes, I am." Then my eyes narrowed and got serious, "But you go and mess this up, and it's gonna piss me off royally. You don't want that."

He looked a little scared, and scrambled to say, "No ma'am."

It was almost like a modern day script for Jesus and the woman at the well, lol. Except, that would make me Christ, and I so am not.

"Just so we're clear, I'm not an enabler. This is a one-time deal, after which you have a choice; stay off the booze and be able to get a leg up by staying in the shelter, or go get something to drink and you best be prepared to finagle clothes and gear to stay outside with."

I gave him my number, and I grabbed the motel's along with his room number, asked the woman when checkout was, and told him I'd be in touch.

I called LocalWorkCampSobrietyProgram and left a message with the young man's name and my involvement - asking for a return call in the morning. I placed a few calls into other places that I know with resources. Finally, I asked for prayers - cuz, you see it's been awhile since I've been in the direct services field, so I'm a bit rusty - and then I went and got it all personalized paying for his room...it could prove to get complicated, thus I need Divine Intervention.

But, uh, not like He hasn't been providing it all along. Geeze, but I would have to have an awfully thick skull to not connect His dots that He's been putting in my path. Even when I called the church in Loveland that is helping, the lead guy was like, "How in the world do people know to come to you?"

They don't.

And I don't know that they're coming my way until I'm in the thick of it.

But God sure seems to pair us up frequently, eh?

So, Big Guy, I get it that this is my work. Just help me do a worthy job, ok? Oh, and thanks for allowing my family to be in on this one. It sure helps me in providing "object lessons" for the kiddos.

Pinch me...

I am in disbelief...


I got a call today from the ED for United Way [of Larimer County] and he told me that basically he'd volunteered "my expertise," to the people working on this HUGE economic development project in town. HUGE!


First, I had to laugh - "expertise?" That I've magically accumulated in all of my 6 years in the worforce - I mean really?

Yeah, he meant really.

See, the hub of this re-development project is the Poudre River corridor, an area which is populated with the camps of many of our chronic homeless. My job will be to advise the committees of this project about:

1.) homelessness in Fort Collins - both chronic and transitional

2.) how different industries (i.e. retail/service) perpetuate the problem with non-living wages

3.) how aspects of the project will affect the homeless, either positively or negatively

The woman he directed me to, for purposes of working together, noted that Fort Collins may be implementing a program very similar to Denver's Road Home project, a project that I have watched and admired from afar for about 2 years now, but have felt that was impossible, due to the discrepancy in resources that non-urban areas receive for these issues. Thanks to an anonymous donor, the seed money for such a program could be available!

Huge exposure opportunity for me. Huge opportunity to effect change and truly help those in need!

Good thing I rediscovered my mojo, eh?

Rediscovering My Mojo

Earlier this month, hell, even just last week, I would have told you that Hammy had totally lost her mojo – in pitiful rendition, rivaling that of Austin Powers’ when he’d lost his zest for shaggin’.

I felt completely wiped out in a sea of turbulent overwhelm. And thusly did a crap job in: keeping close to God, being a friend and partner, mothering, my job as a civil servant, school, housekeeping, and whatever else usually lies front and center on my plate.

I was having the “what should I cut out so that everything is balanced” discussions with myself in my head – you know, that seemingly harmless little “I gotta take care of me so that I can take care of others” battle we women do? It’s innocent enough in the beginning, but let it breed and this reevaluation and quest for “balance” soon consumes my life such that I’m taking care of me for the sake of taking care of me, to the point of unbalance (irony is a funny, funny thing, no?) and the initial intent of making myself a better person for others gets lost along the way.

The other things that this funk had me doing were 1.) overanalyzing, to the point of talking myself out of things that God has very clearly put me up to (school – yes, I really was considering saying, “stick a fork in me I am D-U-N, done”) 2.) sending my normally confident (sorta, that one’s complicated) mindset into a rapidly descending abyss of insecurity.

But, ya’ll the rainbow has come out.

Charlie Brown has been in a bit of a funk himself lately, but the past several weeks he has been very, extremely, and sweetly supportive. Like. A. ROCK. That is always there, and always holding up whenever I happen to fall prostrate across it. That weathers everything that comes its way, and still remains. I need to appreciate that more about him.

I caught a break or two in the scholastic realm. Somehow the online professor, “knows I’m not a slacker” and gave me a break on a very craptastic job on the midterm. I don’t feel like there’s been enough info exchange for him to possibly know this – so I’m curious to know if my advisor and him talk? And my weekend professor? The one whose syllabus was not accessible until the Monday before the first class (the fist class where we were supposed to have a huge book report due) – he decided that whoever turned in the book report, early or late, so long as it was turned in before the end of classes, got an A. He told us that after I scurried to get my paper in by the end of lunch yesterday – hoping to get the dreaded B- in graduate school. So…those two things? Totally made my month.

Finances are coming up. Work is bearable again – oh, and news alert! I got a fun new project with other key players in the community today! Fabulous excitement as a new challenge is here to pique my brain!

Kiddos were good to come home to, and so was my new furry baby – Stella the kitty. She is preshus. And should be MYYYY preshus, except I have to share with my children (can you believe it?!?) – the very people for whom Stella made her way home with Charlie Brown on Saturday.

Life is good. And so is rediscovering one’s mojo. I can do this. We are balanced where we're at, we just had some stressors of late.