I'm a sucker for resolutions. I write them down, organize them, write out a twelve step program that will ensure success ... and that's it. I spend more time thinking of ways to improve myself then I actually spend adhering to the new habit. I am that statistic and running joke. I'm ok with that. At least I realize there are imrovements I can make.
However, this year I'm trying to fight the urge to make a list. As I write this, I already have things popping in my head. Spinning three times a week. Write 15 minutes a day. Stop playing with your hair. It's a sickness really, I'm always talking about what to do and I never do it. Even my husband even notes my obsessive Pinning habit and lack of finished projects.
So this year I'm going to focus not on making resolutions or plans, but to focuse on 10 minutes. Not planning months or years, but taking responsibility for make the healthiest, wisest, kindest, Godliest decisions in the next ten minutes. I can control the next couple weeks as much as I can control the weather, but I can control the decisions I make right now.
So with that thought, I will go eat more sugar cookies. January 1 is right around the corner after all....
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Broke
When I was in third grade, my best friend was kidnapped, stabbed twice, and left to die in the woods. I remember my small eight year old mind sitting in the bathroom stale at school replying the words the teaching said over and over in my head. "They don't know where she is, but don't assume the worst." It was that moment that I realized something could be terribly wrong and I may never see my best friend again.
The events in Newton take me back to that time in my life. The wondering, the pain, the questions. It's something that stays with you your entire life, no matter how old you are when it happens. Even up to my wedding day, I thought about the time on the play ground where her and I talked about our weddings in a little girl way. No talk about boys, rather more about the pretty dresses and promising each other that we would be each others bridesmaids. My wedding day has come and gone, and I thought about my friend many times through that day, saddened by the thought she never got to experience love or have her first kiss.
When you go through loosing a good friend at a young age, every exciting milestone is marked with sadness and almost guilt, knowing they never had the same privilege. Even at 8 I remember thinking I should have asked her to spend the night that evening and maybe it would have been someone else. Not that it would have been better, but in my young selfish mind, I would still have my friend.
So when I heard the news about Sandy Hook in Newtown, Connecticut, my heart broke and broke and broke. I cried and got a headache from crying. I can't do anything but relate it to my frame of reference and realize the young lives that will forever have scars. They will go through life thinking of not one friend, but of multiple friends and even how a teacher died so that they could live. I pray with all my heart those tiny children and families find peace and comfort in Jesus as I did, because that's the only way to deal with the pain.
There may be commotion around the politics, motives, policies, and so many other frivolous things. In my mind there is one thing that hurts the most, and it's that a little girl lost her best friend and was there to witness the entire event. My heart breaks, because in no fathomable hell should any child have to learn to cope with that.
My prayer is that these children learn to heal and rely on God, because there is no other answer.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
How do I do it? Not alone.
I can say pretty much ever year of my adult life I have thought, "wow, how could I ever top that year?!" Don't get me wrong, I've had many difficult times in my life, but somehow God always showed up and reminded me that I wasn't doing it alone. So for the first time, at least in a while, I can look back and say, "man, that year was ROUGH."
End of 2011 husband got a new job at a long haul company, he's always been regional. I got a fantastic promotion I had been working for for about two - three years. An exciting time, and stressful. As husband adjusted, I tried to adjust. And we will both admit it was hard. I had people watching my every step, waiting for me to fail. And he was only home about 8 days a month.
The people I thought would be there to support, encouraging, and pray for me ... weren't. People that I would have said a year ago will be around no matter what ... weren't.
But God knew when I needed it. He never let me get past my breaking point. Right when I was about to crumble, others showed up. Right when I was at the end and didn't know what to do, I would get a text, call, or even a letter in the mail! There were many instances that those simple messages would bring tears to my eyes because I just needed a reminder of who I was in Christ. These God connections were there to let me vent, yell, and sometimes cry. Yes. I will admit. There have been tears this year.
I was sitting at work this week and just laid my head on my desk with tears in my eyes. I was an absolute emotional mess, to the point that I couldn't concentrate enough to get work done. After a few hours of this trying to focus with no success, I grabbed my notebook and wrote, "It's ok. I'm having a weak day, but that just means He gets to be strong. And there is beauty in that."
So maybe I should take back my opening. Perhaps this hasn't been such a difficult year. I prayed to God to protect me from my enemies ... so I lost friends. I asked God to make me strong enough to handle this situation ... and He made me weak so His Spirit was strong in me.
End of 2011 husband got a new job at a long haul company, he's always been regional. I got a fantastic promotion I had been working for for about two - three years. An exciting time, and stressful. As husband adjusted, I tried to adjust. And we will both admit it was hard. I had people watching my every step, waiting for me to fail. And he was only home about 8 days a month.
The people I thought would be there to support, encouraging, and pray for me ... weren't. People that I would have said a year ago will be around no matter what ... weren't.
But God knew when I needed it. He never let me get past my breaking point. Right when I was about to crumble, others showed up. Right when I was at the end and didn't know what to do, I would get a text, call, or even a letter in the mail! There were many instances that those simple messages would bring tears to my eyes because I just needed a reminder of who I was in Christ. These God connections were there to let me vent, yell, and sometimes cry. Yes. I will admit. There have been tears this year.
I was sitting at work this week and just laid my head on my desk with tears in my eyes. I was an absolute emotional mess, to the point that I couldn't concentrate enough to get work done. After a few hours of this trying to focus with no success, I grabbed my notebook and wrote, "It's ok. I'm having a weak day, but that just means He gets to be strong. And there is beauty in that."
So maybe I should take back my opening. Perhaps this hasn't been such a difficult year. I prayed to God to protect me from my enemies ... so I lost friends. I asked God to make me strong enough to handle this situation ... and He made me weak so His Spirit was strong in me.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
I Dance Because I Can
Did your parents ever say something so much that it drove you crazy?? I remember my brother and I rolling our eyes when mom would say any of the following:
"You shall have what you say."
"Only boring people are bored."
"Sounds waves never die."
"Life and death are in the tongue."
"To have a friend you have to be a friend."
And more recently,
"I dance because I can."
You see, at one time doctors thought that my mom had only a 2% chance to live. Best case scenario was she would be a vegetable. That was in 1998.
Now you would never know my mom was different then any other person. Always compassionate to those she meets. My dad said she has a gift to befriend and love "the really weird people," to use his terms. That's definitely a gift.
She functions just like any other person, other then some left peripheral vision loss, which after 13 years she has perfected the usage of what she does have. She walks fine, talks fine. You would never have a clue what she has been through.
Thirteen years ago, Patti (that's Patti with an "i," mind you) had been at work when she had a head ache. Since we homeschooled, she had picked up one night shift a week at the local telephone company answering phones. That was her spending money and "get these kids out of my hair" time. She got a piercing headache. She started to forget how to answer her phone. Her co-workers had her lay on the floor.
The ambulance came and asked her where she wanted to go. She told them St. Elizabeth. By the time they got her to the elevator they made the split decision she wouldn't make it. She had tensed and her eyes were glassy. They took her to the hospital up the road.
Upon arriving, one of the best neuro-surgeon teams was in the hospital that evening during their time off. They requested a few MRIs but quickly determined there wasn't time. They scrubbed in and went in blind.
Afterwards we found out there was a blood vessel that was feeding a brain tumor on the right lobe on her brain. The blood vessel had an aneurysm, basically causing an explosion of the lemon-sized tumor.
This whole fiasco landed Mom in the ICU for a week and only one more week in a normal room.
Since then, she says she dances because she can. People may not realize all that she has been through or the dismal predicted outcome. Most don't know by looking at her fashionable wardrobe that it should take all her brain power to stand and sit, not put together such a classy look.
It's been an amazing 13 years seeing what she has overcome. Despite it all, it really only takes one phone call to bring you to your knees.
Right before Thanksgiving this year, it looked like an unrelated tumor grew on the left lobe of her brain. Right on the sinus artery. (From what I understand, a simple nick could cause her to bleed out in 30 seconds.) It was crippling the entire right side of her body. Without telling even our close extended family or pastoral staff, she went in, had the tumor removed and was home in two nights.
She now, again, has full mobility. We worried about partial paralysis but she taught herself excercises that helped her gain full mobility.
Through the determination and faith, my mom was able to dance like David against all odds. She dances because she can. Every day, when I go for a jog or take the steps at work, I do it because I can and I do it for the thousands that can't. God gave me a gift, so every day I plan to use those gifts. Because I can.
"You shall have what you say."
"Only boring people are bored."
"Sounds waves never die."
"Life and death are in the tongue."
"To have a friend you have to be a friend."
And more recently,
"I dance because I can."
You see, at one time doctors thought that my mom had only a 2% chance to live. Best case scenario was she would be a vegetable. That was in 1998.
Now you would never know my mom was different then any other person. Always compassionate to those she meets. My dad said she has a gift to befriend and love "the really weird people," to use his terms. That's definitely a gift.
She functions just like any other person, other then some left peripheral vision loss, which after 13 years she has perfected the usage of what she does have. She walks fine, talks fine. You would never have a clue what she has been through.
Thirteen years ago, Patti (that's Patti with an "i," mind you) had been at work when she had a head ache. Since we homeschooled, she had picked up one night shift a week at the local telephone company answering phones. That was her spending money and "get these kids out of my hair" time. She got a piercing headache. She started to forget how to answer her phone. Her co-workers had her lay on the floor.
The ambulance came and asked her where she wanted to go. She told them St. Elizabeth. By the time they got her to the elevator they made the split decision she wouldn't make it. She had tensed and her eyes were glassy. They took her to the hospital up the road.
Upon arriving, one of the best neuro-surgeon teams was in the hospital that evening during their time off. They requested a few MRIs but quickly determined there wasn't time. They scrubbed in and went in blind.
Afterwards we found out there was a blood vessel that was feeding a brain tumor on the right lobe on her brain. The blood vessel had an aneurysm, basically causing an explosion of the lemon-sized tumor.
This whole fiasco landed Mom in the ICU for a week and only one more week in a normal room.
Since then, she says she dances because she can. People may not realize all that she has been through or the dismal predicted outcome. Most don't know by looking at her fashionable wardrobe that it should take all her brain power to stand and sit, not put together such a classy look.
It's been an amazing 13 years seeing what she has overcome. Despite it all, it really only takes one phone call to bring you to your knees.
Right before Thanksgiving this year, it looked like an unrelated tumor grew on the left lobe of her brain. Right on the sinus artery. (From what I understand, a simple nick could cause her to bleed out in 30 seconds.) It was crippling the entire right side of her body. Without telling even our close extended family or pastoral staff, she went in, had the tumor removed and was home in two nights.
She now, again, has full mobility. We worried about partial paralysis but she taught herself excercises that helped her gain full mobility.
Through the determination and faith, my mom was able to dance like David against all odds. She dances because she can. Every day, when I go for a jog or take the steps at work, I do it because I can and I do it for the thousands that can't. God gave me a gift, so every day I plan to use those gifts. Because I can.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Product Push for our Pilots
Ok ladies, just have to share my discovery that has been great for my pilot. He recently transitioned to international flying and is gone up to 23 days at a time. Our men are good at packing, but this really is a stretch. My husband is also so sweet in the fact that he likes to have his laundry done when he gets home so not to dump it all on the floor when we sometimes have a few day turn around!
These Purex Complete sheets are awesome. Husband will throw a few in a little baggy and he has his detergent, softener and dryer sheet all in one. He is very picky about his products and loves these!
Ok, that is all. :-) Just had to share!
Ok, that is all. :-) Just had to share!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Are you real?
I love children’s books. Love them. Some are silly, but some really take life lessons and make them so simple. Sometimes I think adults would benefit if they went back and read their old children’s books to really understand life. Lets face it, as adults we sometimes loose the basics in the shuffle.
Over the past few weeks I've been pondering a few different topics, re-reading old text books as well as complex philosophers like C.S. Lewis and Emerson in order to further my understanding. That's when I ran across one of my favorite children's book, The Velveteen Rabbit.
So, in celebration of child-like simplicity and clarity, I've included my favorite passage about love that I just revisited this afternoon.
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.
But the Skin Horse only smiled.
Over the past few weeks I've been pondering a few different topics, re-reading old text books as well as complex philosophers like C.S. Lewis and Emerson in order to further my understanding. That's when I ran across one of my favorite children's book, The Velveteen Rabbit.
So, in celebration of child-like simplicity and clarity, I've included my favorite passage about love that I just revisited this afternoon.
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.
But the Skin Horse only smiled.
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