The Dead Healing the Living

There was once a woman named Sara.  I never met her.  I never read her blog.  I never knew she existed.  This amazing woman died this year, I couldn't tell you when, and I have mourned her death.  Sara, who has been gone for months, is teaching me joy.  An unknown dead woman is teaching me life.

Sara had a disease called  Ankylosing Spondylitis.  This disease inflames the joints between bones and eventually fuses the bones together.  People with this disease live in constant overwhelming pain.  Sara went from being a vivacious working woman to bed ridden.  She became a prisoner to her apartment and her body- or that's how I would look at it.  She used that devastating disease that was slowly taking her life to bring joy to others.  She lived more in her last years than I feel like I did in my whole life.  Her physical body might have been frozen but her spirit and heart soared above the heavens.  She was free.

She refused to let bitterness over take her.  She refused to be lonely.  She was a constant reminder of joy. She reached out to people.  She created a community.  Many women I love and respect talk about her being their hero.  She was at weddings, baby showers, and so many other important moments via skype.  She would reach out to those that were hurting and comfort them in a way that only the dying can.  She understood broken dreams, loneliness  fear, and many other hurts.  She cried with them and laughed with them.  She reached out to a hurting world and used her pain to heal.

"...I have lived in this condo since I was 29 years old. I haven't left it, ventured out, even open a window in years. It's where I am, where I will always be, and yet when someone says the word 'home' I don't think here.

I don't think anywhere, really. I think who.

Because my home rests in the hearts of people."

Home.  Oh, my heart aches.  I have such a restless spirit.  I want to be here, I want to go home.  I don't know what I want.  Why can't I have her peace?  I long to be back where I can hear the wind though the trees.  Where I can feel the cool grass between my toes as the cicadas sing their song as the sun sets.  I want  to hear the birds sing.  I want to be surrounded by life.

I am.  It isn't the life I grew up with.  It always startles me when I hear birds out here, but there is life.  I need to take Sara's perspective.  There is a little girl who loves to make you giggle and an amazing boy who loves to sing.  I am loved by a man who worships the ground I walk on.  I have a house- that is way bigger than I need but perfect for the someday when I have friends to entertain.  I am blessed and I feel selfish for being so unhappy.

Choose Joy.  Did you know that is her handwriting on the stone?  Did you know people all over are getting her words tattooed?  I think that will be my next tattoo.  This woman has been sweetly reminding me of things over the last couple months.  A woman I never met has tears from me.  She might have been lonely every once in a while but she was never alone.  She had thousands of people cheering her on.  Her hope and honesty resonates through her blog.  She is whispering to me.  There is peace.  

I hope God is showing her how many people are celebrating her and her life and I hope some day I can hug her and thank her for being there for me during a somewhat dark time in my life.  I hope to show her my tattoo and ask if she realizes how incredibly she lived her life.  

I am Nothing

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.   1 Corinthians 13:2

I have faith.  I have faith like a Mofo.  I won't lie to you.  When someone asks, "Well, how do you know?", all I can do is give them a blank look.  Um... How do I not know?  I have more faith in my God than I do in any piece of furniture in my house.  This chair will disintegrate under my weight before God goes away.  I may not like him at times, but more often than not, I really don't like myself.

I always confused "Faith" with being a good Christian.  I have had so many people tell me that I have the strongest faith they had ever seen.  Me?  Really?  You are out of your mind...  But then I realized I do have faith.  To me, 1+1=2.  There is a God.  Yup.  Easy day.  As far as faith making me a good Christian?  No.  Christian means Christ like.  I am soooooo far from that, it disgusts me.  Faith yes.  Christ like?  I need love for that.

Now, when it comes to love?  Psh.  Leave that to the "Carter Girls" as they are so affectionately called.  The have adopted so many beautiful children.  Their homes radiate with a love that I can not fathom.  That's cool.  God made us with different strengths and weaknesses.  I can cheer them on and pray diligently for them, and I do.  But me? Ha.

I do not like people.  I don't.  Put me in a crowded mall or bar, I get aggressive.  I fell claustrophobic and on edge.  Fight or flight.  I see a perfect creation by a perfect God- and then how we have trashed it.  Nope, people suck.  I will fight for a Pit Bull any day.  Very rarely do I care about people.  Most the disease, destruction, and chaos is our fault.  Why. Should. I. Care?

“I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ.” Gandhi

Hey!  He was talking about me!  I suck at this whole love thing.  God is love.  Whitney is flippant.  I am not judgmental of people, but I choose not to waste my time unless someone says or does something that peaks my curiosity.  Us nerds call it the Ninja vs. Samurai mindset.  I side with the Ninja.  Now, when it comes to those that I do love, I am more ferocious than any wild animal.  They are mine and I will go to hell and back to protect them.

Why can't I chose to love people like that?

Orphans are sad.  The hungry are sad.  The poor and lost and desolate are sad.  So am I.  I live.  I breathe.  I feel.  So do they.  Why can't I love, just based on that idea alone?  I did once but the world showed me it was better to look out for myself and my interests.  The starving and dying in some country that I will never see does did not interest me.  

This change of heart... this thing that God is doing, is scaring the crap out of me.

Come on, God, I know I said I wanted to feel you working in my life- but really?  Work with me here.  I meant fix the things I wanted fixed.  Quit making me cry over starving babies!  Oh Lordy, here the tears come...  What if it was Owen or Cammy?  Would some stranger in another country care about them?

Okay God, you get quit with the mind warp.  

In the Airport

My flight has been delayed, yet again.  I guess if anyone was going to be in this spot, it should be me.  I know how to roll with the punches.  As long as I get Owen tonight, I am happy.

Being me, I have smiled as much as I can and handed out compliments to everyone I can.  Honey is sweeter than vinegar.  So far it has gotten me a hotel room, free books, food and drink.  People need to remember a kind word and unassuming manor can get you far in life.

I hope Owen learns that from me.  He seems like he has so far.

I hate leaving him, but I can not tell you how much I cherish my flying time with him.  He is my little gypsy.  He have been through a lot together and he has been a champ through it all.

He will be at the airport at 1130.  from there we will take a shuttle to the hotel, then back to the airport in the morning.  It will be an adventure.  I hope instead of seeing the thongs that did not go as plan he sees it as an adventure.

I hope I am doing it right.

Forbidden Grief

I should be blow drying my hair and getting pretty for when Lucky gets home... but I have to get this out of me.

I know so many women who are hurt be decisions they have made in the past.  One being abortion.  I am Pro Life.  I will not argue my stance, but at the same time I have a heart for those who have been hurt by abortion.  Not just the babies but the women and men as well.

I had a religious friend post a picture that said "Abortion does not make you unpregnant.  It makes you the mother of a dead baby."  Ouch.  That hurts me.

Because she is a devout Christian, I thought I could explain that.  I told her there are many women who were misinformed or naive to what was going on.  That her post just twisted the knife that has been stuck in them. She told me that it wasn't aimed at them but the Pro-Choice people.  But those aren't the only ones reading it.  I told her we should be careful that our words might hurt others and try to be compassionate.  That sparked a heated debate full of condemnation in the name of my God.

I was seventeen.  I was about to leave for the Navy.  A pregnancy would change my plans.  Being the responsible, irresponsible child I was, I went to planned parenthood to get my next dose of birth control.  I wasn't late or showing any signs, just trying to be smart about being stupid.  The Dr. asked when the last time I had sex was.  I told her and she handed me a pill.  "We need you to be on your period to give you your shot.  If you are pregnant it will not hurt the baby.  If you aren't then it will start your period."

Come to find out you do not have to be on your period.  Come to find out that pill was (at the time) the leading abortion pill in Europe.  Come to find out it kills 40,000 women a year from hemorrhaging.  I have never bled like that in my life.  I thought I was going to die.

I do not think I was pregnant.  I do not think I had an abortion.  If I was and if I did, I was tricked.  For years I lived with the guilt of what if.  What if I killed my baby?  If there was a baby, the Dr. at Planned Parenthood abused a young girls trust.  She abused her power.  She took my child.  But that is all what if.

As Christians we need to be careful what we say.  We might have good motives, but  we need to make sure that our words and actions reflect grace, not condemnation.  We are the ones who form peoples opinions of a "loving God" or a "hateful God".  We are his voice in this world.  I am sorry that I have not been  better one.

For those of you who have been hurt one way or another by abortion, please read this:  Sarah Mae's Story

It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read.  You are loved.  You are forgiven.  You are NOT damned.

There is always hope.

Sweet Innocence

A bright eyed little boy boards the plane with his mother.  He stops at every seat to tell his mama what number and letter is on the chair.  The tired passengers on the plane are suddenly awake a cheer every time he gets one right.  He already has a fan club.  The mother pauses as she finds their seat.  To make things easier on everyone she was hoping they wouldn't have to worry about a neighbor, but there is an old Indian lady sitting on the isle seat.

The woman must have seen the mothers hesitation and beams as she stands up and welcomes them to their seat.  She is older.  She is wearing a beautiful Indian outfit and gold.  She looks frail and powerful at the same time.  She is beautiful with a humble demeanor.  She is one of a kind.  Her voice was like a song as she bids her greeting.

The little boy tells her about the new car book his Mommy got him and how airplanes go up in the air- and also not to forget seat belts, so we can be safe.  The woman smiles brilliantly, obviously pleased with her partners for the three hour flight.

The little boy plays his games and looks at his books as the mother and lady talk.  They talk about India and her arrange marriage that has been a love of fairy tales.  They talk about a young marriage that broke and a new life that was brought by a knight in shining armor.  They talk about love, life and God.

"You are very nice.  Would you like a cookie?" The little boy offers up a Thin Mint.
The Lady hesitates. "I would love one of your cookies and it is so sweet of you to offer me one, but I can not eat cookies."
"Oh, how very sad." came the serious reply.

The woman erupts in a melodic laughter.  She was Hindu, and vegan.  Meaning the sweet joy of a Girl Scout cookie was something she would not know.  She informed the mother that she tries every moment of the day to be faithful to her religion and that her sweet blue eyed boy about made her crumble.

Meanwhile, the people in the isle in front of the happy trio are complaining about the little boy.  He talks too much.  He keeps moving around and bumping the seat.  Does the mother not know how to control her child.  Before the mother could hiss a reply to the grumpy passengers, the lady says, "How sad that some people can not find the beauty in the innocents and joy of a child.  He is so well behaved and has such a gentle spirit.  I have never seen a child fly so well.  It is a shame that people must complain.  I already love him as if he was my own blood.  He has stole my heart and I can not see how any other heart would be so hardened to him."

Her quiet rebuke makes the chattering women silent.  Before they can come up with a rebuttal a soldier chimes in.

"I have been over in the sandbox for the last 10 months.  That little dude you are being such a jerk to gave me a Girl Scout cookie.  Do you know how awesome that is?  He just did his military a favor and I think people need to think their words and actions before my PTSD comes out." He winks at the mother as she stifles a laugh and the women jump at the thought.  Other passengers chimed in to the boy and mothers defense.

The Lady laughs silently, then turns to the mother, "You are an amazing and righteous woman.  Do not let anyone in your past, present or future tell you otherwise.  You have raised you son in the ways of your God and do him honers by that.  You can tell that your God is with you and your son.  He is pure and lovely.  Keep true to your God and continue to do for your children and you have been."

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Do you know how beautiful that was to hear?  Owen was oblivious to the battle that had just ensued.  He was content pointing to where our house might be not realizing how many strangers loved him.  How his small acts of kindness by offering his cookies or blanket to people, turned a dreaded flight into a joy.  His love for life and laughter rang out through the plane and the people smiled.

Do you have any idea how good it felt to be confirmed by someone?  To be told that they can see God in you.  That you are raising your children right?  To be loved for no reason.

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The little boy started to squirm as the plane made its decent.  "Mommy, I gotta go potty!"
"Baby, the plane is trying to land, we can't get up.  Can you hold it?"
"Yes, Mommy, I will try."
The burly soldier chimed in, "Your right, little dude.  I gotta go potty also!  When we land, will you show me where the potty is?  I am scared I will get lost."
"Yes sir!  I know where it is!"

When the plane landed the soldier jumped up. "Sorry guys, but I have to clear the isle!  The is a little man here who has to go potty and two lovely ladies (in reference to the Indian lady and mother) that have to escort him.  Plus, I drank too much."

The cabin burst into laughter and gladly kept to their seats as the small family and now friends rushed to grab their belongings.

A kind word or gesture can change a persons day.  Anyone who has flown knows there is no rushing off the plane.  People bump and growl to get off, but one night before Easter, people gladly gave up a few minutes for one small boy.  There are small joys in life we forget to see.  Miracles are around us constantly, but our schedules, worries and everything else block our vision.

Her eyes were clear.  She was so beautiful to me.  She had been fighting different cancers for years.  She was about to go in for another battle.  As I said she was a vegan.  She has never smoked or drank.  There was no reason for her suffering.  Instead of being bitter she was joyful.  She was at peace.  She reconfirmed my faith in God and gave me hope in humanity.

I pray I will see her again some day.

Like a Ghost. Instead of spirits without bodies, we are bodies without spirits.

In our society it is popular to condemn God.  Let me rephrase that.  It is popular to condemn the Christian God.  If you are Buddhist you are peaceful and insightful.  If you are Wiccan you are one with the earth.  If you follow new age beliefs you are one with everything and everyone.  If you are a Christian you are a moron and a jerk.  I don't know what is worse... being praised for praying to a rock, being a terrorist for being Muslim, for being considered a drugged out freak for being New Age, or to be completely disregarded and mocked for being a Christian.

I have said before, hate is a disease.  It is more powerful than cancer, nukes and sugar combined.  I am ashamed.  I am ashamed that such a free thinking country is so full of hate.  We praise little drugged out girls but someone who tries to find faith and morals is appalling.  What have we done?  We take celebrities words as gold and trash a humble man that lived thousands of years ago, who even if he was not God, taught love and hope.  

I believe in God.  When I say I believe in God, I mean I attempt to be a Christian (Christian means Christ like).  I believe God gave us free will and wants us to love one another.  That means if someone is gay or of another religion- LOVE them.  He doesn't tell us to punish sin but to offer good news.  How much good news do people get theses days?

There was a woman I flew with when I brought Owen home.  She was Hindu.  She was one of the most BEAUTIFUL people I have ever met.  She praised me for raising such a good boy and told me that my God would be proud.  God loves her.  She might not follow him but oh, how he loves her.  He doesn't hate her for following the faith she was raised in.  He yearns for her.  Why would I condemn her for following a faith that made her a better person?  I pray for her daily.  She was so beautiful.  

I am ashamed that some churches have done things that have blurred what Christianity really is.  I am ashamed that when I say something about being a Christian or church that people have a bad taste in their mouth.  I am not ashamed of my God.  I have looked and studied other religions.  I choose this.  I am not ashamed.  I am ashamed of people.

I am saddened that some crazed Islamic people have destroyed the integrity of other people who follow Islam.  I will not get into a religious debate but I will say that there are good and wonderful people of every religion.  The vile acts of people claiming a faith should not determine the integrity of any individual.  The vile acts that have been done in the name of a religion should not define the religion.  

I had a pastor in Virginia, who took a month per religion and taught us it.  He went to a Buddhist temple and asked a Monk to explain what he believed.  He said he was trying to clarify what media has changed.  He wanted peace and understanding.  After we watched the video he told us all the wonderful things we could learn from them and what they can learn from us.  A month per religion.  A month of clarity.  Respect and understanding.  

Those of us who try to be Christians need to take a step back.  We need to understand.  We need to respect others and that God gave them free will and despite anyone mistakes or faith, he loves them.  Who are we to do otherwise?  Those of you who deplore religion need to take a step back.  The individuals who have misrepresented a religion should not define it.  Look at what the people believe.  Is it really so bad that people want hope and guidance?  This is such a disgusting world we live in.  What is wrong with wanting something better.?

To the Current Resident

I am sure you might be wondering why I am writing you.  I wondered a bit myself, but I try and follow my gut and it told me it wouldn't be a bad idea.

Every time I move into a new home I wonder about it.  What would the walls say if they could talk?  When I leave, I find myself wanting to leave a note, "You home was filled with love and laughter".  Yours was.  I hope it still is.

My Mom and her four siblings grew up in your house.  I have often wondered how they all fit.  I suppose you do what you have to.  My Mom tells me stories about when she was younger.  The front yard was filled with Pine Trees.  It was different when I was little.  But I am getting side tracked.

I am "grown up" now.  I have been in and out of the service and am married to a Sailor.  We have two kids, a little boy and a baby girl.  We also have two dogs.  The all American family, and what would the All American Family be without a dream?  So we just bought a house.

I never dreamed of coming out West.  It seemed fascinating, but not something that tugged at me.  Now we are in Nevada.  My husband works at Top Gun.  His family lives an hour South and I love it here.  It is such a contrast to the quilted fields of Illinois.  There is color and life here, just not what I grew up loving.  It is beautiful in its own unique style.

We were blessed to get the house we did.  It is close to friends.  Big enough to grow into.  It fits us now and will fit us later.  It is perfect for entertaining and we love to have BBQ's and company.  But it is a new house.  Built in 2005- I am not complaining!  We don't have to worry about structural issues and we know there will be a while before we really have anything to worry about... But I miss the hardwood floors and crown molding.  New homes do not have the character that older homes have.  I miss it.

We moved to Illinois when I was in First Grade.  We drove from Virginia when my Dad got out of the Navy.  I remember when we pulled into the driveway.  It must have been the wee hours of the morning.  Everything was quiet.  There were no other cars.  I looked up to see the angled brick entryway and grey blue shingles and thought the little window next to the chimney made the house look like something out of a Grimm's Fairy Tale book.  I was terrified.

When I got up the next day I explored more.  The Carters still lived in the house next door.  They also lived there when my Mom was little.  Their whole front yard was a garden.  It was incredible.  They use to let me walk around in their garden and tell me secrets about the flowers.  Like when you turn a Bleeding Heart upside down, it looks like a lady in an old bathtub.  I was convinced there was magic there.  But there was.  There is always magic where life is loved and nurtured.

To the left of the chimney was a big pine tree.  It was surrounded by lava rock. (I thought it was magical also.  How did lava rocks get to Illinois?  A first grader hardly understands buying it at a store, so magical it will stay.) Then there were larger flat rocks surrounding the tree bed.  I tried not to walk on that side of the house unless I was going to the Carters.  The pine needles hurt my bare feet and I was convinced the "cave" under the front steps had dead bodies.  I read a lot as a child.

On the right side of the porch, in front of my bedroom, was another magical garden.  I loved it.  There were so many unique plants but the one I will always remember is Lambs Ear.  I don't know if that is the correct name, but that was what it was called.  It was a mint green leaf covered in velvety grey hairs.  It looked and felt like it could have been an ear of some kind.  I have traveled the world and never had the pleasure of seeing it since then.  My husband and I stumbled upon some last week.  I was so excited when I saw it.  My  amazing husband said he is going to buy some for our new house.

In the front part of the yard, on the right, was a funny little tree.  I thought it was the kind that the bark peeled off and you could pretend it was paper, but it wasn't.  The trunk was white with spots.  There were delicate flowers underneath.  It was a jungle when I played with my Barbies outside.  There were saber tooth tigers that lived there.  If the Barbies weren't careful it could have been tragic.  There were also two big trees on the city part of the yard.  I haven't been to Champaign in years, but I believe they have been cut down.  It is a shame.  I love neighborhoods with lots of trees.

In the back yard there were big orange flowers.  I thought fairies slept in them.  If you look to the top of the big tree in the back yard, you might see a flag/rag.  When my Uncles were little they climbed to the top.  I wish I would have also.

I loved the hard wood floors in the house.  They were so welcoming.  The big fireplace was one of my favorite spots.  I use to lay on the rug and read in front of the fire.  Are there still French doors in the living room?  I thought they were beautiful and let so much light in... but I didn't understand why they were there since it just dropped and there were no steps.

I loved the "diamond" door knobs with the key holes.  I use to collect old keys hoping to find the one that would match my door so maybe I could lock it to keep my little sisters out.  My little brother was just a baby.  I didn't have to worry about him.  If you weren't careful, you would accidentally pull the door knob off.  Instead of it being frustrating, I loved putting it back together.  I felt smart like my Daddy.  This little girl worshiped her fathers ingenuity.

There was a big solid wood door that shut the hall way to the bedrooms and bathrooms.  It was so heavy and hurt like the dickens when it ran over your foot.  It had a giant mirror on it.  I thought the mirror would take me back in time or maybe to Narnia.  I remember crying into the mirror when the back to my earring fell off.  I had just gotten my ears pierced and we were fighting to get the ear ring back in my ear.  Oh, it hurt.  We use to open the hall door half was and then the closet door.  We would pull the blankets down in the closet and make a nest in our door fort.

At the top of the stairs (to the right) was a funny little closet?  Crawl space?  I made that my reading cave.  I loved how the light from the windows shined in and it was small enough and a bit creepy.  It was perfect to read my Nancy Drew books in.  The little half bath in the attic had old newspapers in it.  When I say old, I mean old.  The ladies still sported corsets.  They were probably remakes but it still added some charm to the old house.  At one point my sister and I had our room in the attic.  My Parents were nice enough to give me the walk in closet as my space.  I had my desk and American Girl stuff in there.  Once, I tried cleaning the bathroom.  I used too much soap and water so my sister and I turned it into a slip and slide.  I don't remember if we got in trouble... but we laughed.

There was a wood pile in the back yard.  If you touched the stove and fridge at the same time you would get shocked.  There were paneling in the attic you could pull out and hide things in.  Once a squirrel broke into our house at Christmas time.   The basement scared me but there were boxes with treasures in them so I would toughen up to explore.  Our play room was in the part of the basement with the tile floors.  There was a bar in the back I would do homework at.

There was magic in that house.  It was the magic of imagination.  It was the magic of love.  It was a happy home.  I write you this because sometimes it is good to hear things like that.  Sometimes it is good to forget about the dishes and laundry and oh my gosh,how long has it been since someone emptied the bathroom trash, and look around and see the beauty we forget about day to day.

I am sure a lot has changed since I lived there.  Change is good.  It is your home now and has embraced you and molded to you.  I sincerely hope you find laughter there.  That when you pull in after a long day of work or school you see how beautiful it is.  I hope you know there is a girl, who had traveled the world, and every time she sees a house with an angled brick entryway she smiles.  Take time to crawl into that funny closet at the top of the stairs and read a book.  Just take time and be happy.  We all rush too much in this short life of ours.

Yours Truly,

Whitney McConnell

Hello, Babies. Welcome to Earth.

Yesterday was a busy one.  After the kids had breakfast and a bath we walked to medical then Lucky ended up taking me to the Hospital.  My sunburn started turning purple.  I have to say it was one of the more painful times.  However, I got a pasty Doc like me, and as soon as she saw it she knew was to do.  This cream is my new favorite thing.

Lucky took the kids to Walmart as I was at the Doctor but we had to go back again when I was out.  The kids were great.  Owen and I had a blast making Cammy laugh.  Everything was beautiful.  We finally got home and had dinner then put the kids to bed- AFTER Owen and Lucky played with a new race car track that Lucky bought them.

Lucky and I laid in bed having our usual "slumber party" as Lucky has called it.  We joked and talked about whatever came to mind.
"I think it is sweet how when I got Owen up he wanted to snuggle you." I said.  Owen isn't usually calm enough to cuddle.
"Yeah, I loved it.  He is getting so big though we wont be able to pick him up soon."
"Who are you tellin'!?!"

He is though.  He has gotten taller than my hip.  The baby that I have fought so fiercely for... is no longer a baby.  He is growing into an amazing boy.  He wont want my snuggles for much longer.  Cammy is already fighting to be in the big girl stage.  How dare anything try and hold her back from keeping up with her big brother!  Where does the time go?

When I was sitting in the E.R. yesterday, there was an elderly woman.  Her skin was paper thin.  She looked tired but still competent.  She still had a light in her eyes.  I was marveling that once upon a time she was a chubby soft baby, fresh and squalling in a mothers arms.  She was a young, vibrant woman like I am.  And now she was old.  Life is amazing.  The journey is so quick.  Youth and (physical) beauty is so fleeting.

She also looked in pain.  The whole right side of her face and right shoulder were black from bruising.  It looked excruciating and I was ashamed for being there for a burn (albeit a bad burn).  She is laboring with her breath as she whispered to (I assume) her son.  She said that they should go.  Instead of concern, he briskly turned to tell her if he had to take off work to bring her in she needs to sit and wait.  I wanted to smack him.  That is your mother!  She grew you inside of her!  She gave her youth and beauty to you and you dare chastise her for trying to give you your time back.

She had fallen.  I was heart broken at the lack of concern.  When my parents move to Nevada, when they are old and grey and if God Forbid they fall, I will be raising hell to get them treatment.  Why?  Because they held me, even when I was too big (size wise) like Owen.  They have loved and cherished me.  They gave their youth, beauty and time to me.  They have never backed down and have always supported me.

I want to do that for my children.  I want them to know my arms are always open.  I will always fight for them.  My youth is the perfect time to be chasing them.  My beauty is better spent on them anyways.  I want them to remember me as a strong and loving woman.  I never want them to have to sit in the ER with me after I have fallen.  I want to always be their rock.  I want them to know that I will always love them with every fiber that I am.

"If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind."

I don't know if Vonnegut would be flattered or appalled that I use so many of his quotes for this blog.  He is by far my favorite author.  He had a world weary, realist borderline pessimistic style of writing... but there was always hope.  Behind the blatant hurt and disdain for life, he had hope.  I appreciate that because I can relate.  Despite that his writings were a bit quixotic and absurd.  I loved it.  By the end of each book you learned something.

Right now I am the One eyed man in the kingdom of the blind.  We get our house in less than ten days and there is more packing to do than things put away.  I am trying dearly- no scratch that- I have put most of my Proverbs journey on the back burner.  Instead of getting up early and spending time with God, I have been sleeping till the morning song of my children wakes me up and begging God to give me insight through whatever he can.  So God chose Vonnegut and the crazy moments in life one might pass by.

I am sorry for me claiming some grandeur adventure and then slacking on it.  I have been so unfocused on pretty much everything at the moment.  I promise that after the boxed are packed and then unpacked, that this should get good.

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”

I want to be sexy.  I want to be curvy and all that is woman.  I want Lucky's friends and co-workers to think he did a good job.  I want to be beautiful.

I did not wear my first spaghetti strap without anything over it until I joined the navy.  Too much skin, and having larger breasts like I did back then, made it hard to wear cute clothes without being obscene.  I still am uncomfortable in a bikini.  Not from the baby body... but anyone can see the crease where my butt meets my thigh.  That is so private!  I have a friend who wears leggings with cute little shirts.  She is adorable.  I would die.  I don't think leggings are inappropriate... I am just not comfortable with my butt showing.  My neighbor had me wear an incredibly low cut (for my standards) hugging dress for my husbands Christmas party.  Lucky loved it.  I wore my trench coat most of the party or was trying to adjust the dress the whole time.

Now that I am a mother I need to represent the woman my son should marry and the woman my daughter should strive to be.  I think in some aspects it is easy.  I am scared of mini skirts and plunging neck lines.  My dresses fit well but don't show off too much.  It is a lot easier now that I don't have as much to show.

So how does being "sexy" fit into my version of personal modesty?  I feel sexy in dark denim shorts and a white tee shirt.  I love the way I feel in some of my long sleeve shirts and a good pair of jeans.  Honestly, I am uncomfortable in the dresses I made.  When the wind blows, I have to pull a Marilyn Monroe if I am not wearing a petty coat (Note 1.  Petty Coats were made for more than filling out a skirt.  Note 2. I need cuter underwear.).  More than all that I feel sexy when I catch my husband checking me out.

I have never been an overly girly girl.  I have very muted colors in my wardrobe and not much frill.  I have embraced my style.  It fits my standards and I feel good in it.  When I feel good, I look good.  Even if my nails are chipped and I just can get the "messy pony tail" to look right (how do you mess up a messy pony tail?), I feel good, over all.

I define my sexiness by who I am.  My eyes are my favorite feature.  Apparently, I have a nice voice for a woman even if it is lower.  I laugh and smile a lot.  Those little lines around my eyes and mouths will grow to be my crowing beauties.  I am happy.  I look good with clothes on.  My style fits ME.  I have a good sense of humor.  I am well read and even through my failed High School years, I scored high enough on my ACT to get into a couple Ivy League Universities- meaning I didn't have to take an entrance exam for the school I am going to (Thank you, GOD!!! I was worried about it).  I am nerdy.  I am unique.  I am sexy because I am who I am.

Last note:  As I am writing this, I am so sun burnt it is purple, my hair was only half blow dried, I have a mix of Cheerios's and apple sauce under my nails and no makeup on.  My husband would still say I was beautiful right now.  Never settle for a person who does not see your beauty even on your not so pretty days.

Vendettas

We all have them.  Maybe with ourselves or maybe with another.  Sometimes it is hard to place where they started.  We are human.  We are flawed.

I don't do well with emotions.  A councilor I saw said that was the most devastating issue I had to deal with.  Emotion.  "Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion.  I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward"  Kurt Vonnegut Jr.  

I cried last night.  I would like to blame it on my last pregnancy changing my hormones and making me some weepy twit... but really, I am human.  I suppose it is O.K. to cry once in a while.  I cried to God and my husband, whoever cared enough to listen, that it wasn't fair.  It's not fair that we are punished for doing the right thing, and the people who blatantly disregard the rules and truth get everything they want.  I lay awake at night tortured by my good actions and they sleep sound in their twisted deeds.

It's not fair.  But it's life.  And I cried.

My husband whispered sweet words while I broke.  He held me and told me that he knew we would deal with all this.  That every pain and penny was worth the days he had with us.  He told me things my heart needed to hear.

God whispered hard truths while I broke.  Pray.  Pray for those that persecute you.  Speak blessings not curses.  He sees the sparrow and he sees me.  Breathe, just breathe.

I don't want to bless him.  I don't want to love him.  I want him to go away.

I prayed for his heart.  I prayed for his mind.  I prayed that whatever vendetta he had would be broken.

Hate is a twisted disease.  It is contagious.  It picks apart your meaty bits to your bony bits.  It will rot you.  I started this journey to beak my vendettas against myself... I guess God had more in mind.  He took this time in my life where there is not much going on for me to learn about myself.  I am learning to like the quiet.  I am learning to breathe.

And I prayed.

I am not who I will be

Hope should always defeat jadedness.  I was working on my "Mommy Mission Statement" (I feel like a ham) and I read one that made me choke.  I felt her emotions when I read it.

"To embrace this season of my life as a blessing, while my children are young and I am still their whole world."
Ouch.
Kids are tough.

Having a brilliant three year old can be exasperating.  He is everything I dreamed of and more.  He defines his name and goes above and beyond.  I can not put into words how much he is to me.  I wish I could just send out the feeling of my heart to him.  I wish he could feel the love and know it is unconditional.  He has been through it all with me.  He is my soul.

Having an active and teething 10 (almost 11) month old can me mentally and physically debilitating.  Her smile can light up the room.  She was my almost lost dream.  She is so incredibly pure and loving.  She (thank God) is not defined by her first name, but her middle name describes everything about her.  Beautiful.  She is my heart and made by the purest love.

I work and am working so hard to make things great for them.  I invest in learning resources and fun things for Owens imagination.  I try to make the home beautiful for them and cook good meals.  All the wile I forget about them.  I get so focused on what I want/need to do for them that I forget about them.

I will not let this make me feel like a failure.  It is a lesson.  Let the laundry wait.  The table can be cleaned later.  And yes, I will tell you the story of the Three Little Pigs for the umpteenth time today.

I love you.  So very much.  You exceed my hopes and dreams more than I knew possible.  You darlings, taught me how beautiful life really is and how real love can be.

Resources

So, I am not blind, I know I don't have any "followers" (however if you want to subscribe so these go to your RSS feed/email, you are more than welcome) but if you guys are watching and interested in my journey and maybe wanting to tweak a few things yourself, here are the Resources I am using:

Frumps To Pumps AND Having a Martha House the Mary Way by Sarah Mae. These are awesome books.  Short sweet and full of character.  She is an amazing author and so motivational yet down to earth.  She inspires me.

21 Days to a More Disciplined Life by Money Saving Mom.  Her website is amazing.  Lucky and I read it daily... Or I read it and we talk about it.  I adore her also.  I will talk more about her later.

Maximize Your Mornings and Mission Statements for Moms are by Inspired to Action.  She also has a prayer calendar for your husband and one also for your kids.  I have printed those out also.

It seems like a lot.  But there are a lot of areas I want to work on.  All of these are written by Christian women so as you are working on time management, the house or being a better mom you are also getting a does of the big Guy.  That is where I am at right now.  If anyone is interested in doing this with me, let me know and we can figure out a place to start!

Perfectly Flawed

I strive for perfection.  The hardest thing I deal with is feeling like a failure.  There is always that voice whispering, "You forgot this." or "You didn't do it right/ enough".  I hate that voice.  It eats at me.  It picks apart  my soul.  I read a book called Core Lies and I do recommend it.


Now don't get me wrong, there are some flaws of mine that I kinda like.  My teeth aren't perfect but I like how they fit my face and they are really nice for not having braces.  I snort when I laugh.  I didn't like it at first but my husband adores it (weird huh) and from seeing his face I have grown to love it.  Sometimes the zipper sized stretch marks upset me, but I earned my stripes.  I have two AMAZING babies.  We are all perfectly flawed in some way or another.  There are some "flaws" that are great for us.  They make us unique and lovable.

I know my weaknesses in life.  I am blessed that they are the opposite of Lucky's.  I think, in life, we should look to surround ourselves with people who's strengths are our weaknesses.  I have done well at that...  But that is where my core lie comes in.  Two of the Ladies I know out here neat freaks.  Their house always is perfect when you come over.  Kids and all.  Not mine.  My house is clean but there will always be a crumpled uniform somewhere in the main living space.  Toys will be out and my craft stuff.  It will never be perfect.

Yesterday was a very hard day.  Owen's Dad called about some stuff, Cammy was teething and let me tell you... she is hard to be around and poor Owen was stuck in the middle.  We only have two weeks till we move in and I want stuff packed.  When we moved out here we only had half the apartment packed when we got the Uhal.  A lot of stuff ended up donated.  I don't want to procrastinate this time.  I got the two closets packed, craft stuff and the medicine cabinet.  It is a good amount between two kids not napping, but I should have gotten more done.  I was overwhelmed by the time Lucky got home and had gone out to the garage.  Let me tell you it was gross.  It looked like a hoarder vomited in there.

Travis came and helped Lucky with the garage as I worked on the shed while makin dinner and trying to keep Cammy from killing someone.  Owen was having fun digging through the "treasures" and being the Hulk.  I wanted to cry.  I was a mess.  Cammy was a mess.  The house was a mess.  I was failing and I just couldn't figure out how to stop.  Then Lucky came over.

"So some of the guys were talking about you in the shop today."

Oh Great.  I like the fact my hubby brags about me but after that old modeling pic going viral and the fact that I know some of these guys... I am worried what he is going to say.

"They all agreed that you are pretty much the perfect wife."

What?!?  Where did that come from!?!  He said something about me being easy to talk to and how I am pretty much one of the guys then he mentioned how they said I was supportive.  Had these goofy fly boys actually noticed how hard I try?  Was I really doing something right?

Sometimes we need a wake-up call.  I will fail.  I will have days like yesterday where I want to run into the mountains and hide/cry.  But there is always someone who sees what you don't see.  There is always someone cheering for you.  I did something right.  I made my husband proud.  We are all perfectly flawed and it is as it should be.

The Power of Spoken Blessings

Life just keeps going.  It is overwhelming and amazing at the same time.

I said 2012 would be a blessed year for our family and it has been.  I don't know where to start.

Owen is just amazing.  Period.  We have our days and more often than not, Lucky and I feel like there is so much more we should be doing, but he is still the best little guy I know.  He is everything and more than I could have ever hoped.

Cammy is getting so big.  She is such a happy and sweet little girl.  Her big brother and Daddy are the most amazing men EVER as far as she is concerned.  She is already taking steps on her own.  She brings me so much joy.

Lucky somehow steals more of my heart each day.  I never new I could love someone other than my own children so much.  He is my world and the love of my life.  It keeps getting better.  I am so very in love.

We have friends

We have love

We have been blessed

And now we are buying a house.

Words have power.  Speak blessings and be blessed by your words.

An update

It has been a while since I have written anything on here.  I keep thinking of great posts... but I get side tracked by the kids or house.

Since Cammy has been born, I have started making all our own cleaning products.  I have to say that I feel great about it.  Because of the way we are raised, the chemical smell of cleaning products smells "clean" to us.  It has been an adjustment to walk out of a bath room after cleaning it and not smelling Comet (I will admit that I love Comet).  However, despite the lack of smell, it feels better.  I know if Owen decides to lick the toilet (please God, no!) after I clean it. he wont have any crazy chemicals floating around to make him sick.  I like being able to touch my and not worry about the bleach or chemicals on my hands.  It is nice to know everything is clean.  Another perk is that I can add any essential oil so my products smell how ever I wish them to.

As I have said before, a glorious friend of mine gave us some awesome cloth diapers for Cammy.  I wanted to use cloth for Owen... but I didn't know where to start.  All the different kinds and information can be overwhelming.  I just took the advice of a smart woman and have not looked back.  We have not had one blow out or one diaper rash!  If you have kids, you know blow outs are a part of life with disposables.  Owen was the king.  The cloth diapers are (in my opinion) more convenient.  The Dollar Tree carried diaper trash bags so really changing and taking them with you is not a problem in public.  I don't have a separate diaper bag for them.  I just roll them up, tie the plastic baggy and am good to go.  Granted, I do a load of laundry for diapers every day, but we make our own laundry detergent for dirt cheap (that works amazing and our clothes smell great!).

After making what seems to be big changes- but were actually very easy- we are looking forward to some new changes in this new year.  I asked Lucky what he thought about switching to "family cloth".

"I have wiped with silk boxers before and it was amazing.  Why not?"

I still have more research to do about it, but I like the idea.  The diapers come out stain free and clean so why wouldn't wipes?  Plus we wouldn't have to worry about the kids using too much ad the toilet getting clogged.  And it will save money.

Another thing we plan on doing is making our own soaps.  I like the idea of knowing what is in our soaps.  Lucky likes the chemistry aspect of it all.  The idea of making pretty and natural soaps is awesome.  Plus, since moving to Nevada and my last pregnancy, my skin has been a mess.   Time to fix this.

We also are looking forward to making our own herb garden for medicinal and cleaning uses.  I have almost finished my aromatherapy course and will be starting my herbalist course soon.  I think "Celtic Pride Apothecary" sounds nice.

Any who (lol) I need to get back to cleaning.  This was a weak post, but I wanted to get something in here.  If you guys have any questions or suggestions- just comment or email me :)