More than Flowers

Okay, Mrs. Garber Martin, you've twisted my arm.

Here's a Money Shot Monday (whatever that means).  

I rarely understand your quirky expressions, but I always love your ideas.

This is just the inspiration I needed.

Thanks, Shannan. You've been inspiring me for a long time.  

Now, if I can just figure out how to link up....

~ ~ ~

The 10 minutes of solitude carved out of my day were spent outside, quickly gathering the remnants of a summer garden gone wild, grabbing hold of the last bits of happy color.  The gusty fall winds blew hard, trying to chase me back inside to the comfort. The chilly air teased me for not wearing a jacket, for holding on to summer too long. Yet something kept me out there.

I was looking for more than flowers. 

I was looking hard for gratitude and for grace,

hoping to make something beautiful out of the noise and mess and brokenness in and around us.  

In a blustery, scraggly patch of zinnias, I found my joy bank filling up--  

filling up with beauty, just like this humble tin can.

Isn't she sweet?

I smile inside every time I walk by.

That 10 minute investment in gratitude will bring me at least a weeks worth of warm fuzzies.

Now that's a good investment.







Linking up with Flower Patch Farmgirl's Money Shot Monday! First link-up ever!!! Woo-hoo!!!

When the darkness closes in...

As August slowly ushers in the changing seasons in nature,

it also ushers in a subtle current of sadness.

It is a time to mourn.

Some years it sneaks in almost unexpectedly,
a feeling that you can't quite put your finger on.
Some years it explodes fierce and out of control.
This year, I watch for it.  I recognize it.  I let it be what it is.

This year, I'm trying hard to grieve with gratitude.

~ ~ ~

When we first moved back to town, we became reacquainted with Ray, a dear old friend of my Dad. Ray would walk past our house on his daily route and always stop to say "hi" to the kids and reminisce with us about the history of people and places he loved in this town.

One of those people he loved was my Dad.

Ray told us many stories, but one I hold close to my heart:

my Dad at the funeral for his young son.

This was not Dad's first loss. It was one of many in his lifetime.

Ray was at the funeral.  He stood there in line, wondering what to say to his friend, my Dad. What do you say to a man who has lost so much already? Before Ray could find the words, my Dad reached for Ray's hand and confidently proclaimed what he believed:

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  
Blessed be the name of the Lord."

~ ~ ~

 I love that I have this story of my Dad's unwavering faith.
I love that all these years later his testimony, passed on through a witness,
 still stands fresh and bold in my heart.


I love that I can say it too.

I will still mourn. Tears will still flow. And I will still say,

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. 
Blessed be the name of the Lord."

The little things

In the morning, these flowers glow with sunshine outside my kitchen door.

So last week I took a few pictures, 
hoping to savor that basket of beauty 
before the dirty breakfast dishes called my name.

Then came the gift I might have missed;

a humming bird, wings catching the light for just an instant in my camera lens.

Click--I got it!!!  What a treasure!!!

I keep a close eye on that basket now. 

I'm hoping to see Mr. Hummingbird again.

If I don't come to the window and watch for him, 

I might not notice him, even though he's there.

~ ~ ~

Dear God, 
fill me with such hopeful anticipation, 
that I would eagerly seek to be in Your presence.
May each day be filled with grateful awareness of You.
Amen

Do you hear what I hear? Part 1

The perfectionist in me cringes at this picture of my work because the lighting really highlights the textures. It's a mixed media collage.  It's meant to have texture.  There is character and beauty in those lines. But my perfectionism tends to see those lines as flaws. My instinct is to want to "fix" it.  Make it pretty.  And nice. And flawless.

I haven't posted in seven weeks.  Partly because I'm trying to spend more time with my art. Partly because I'm a perfectionist. Mostly because I'm afraid. I'm afraid because I can only write what's on my heart, and my heart has been under reconstruction this year. Reconstruction is always messy. It's not a pretty process. I can't present you with something nice and flawless.

Who wants to admit that in the blog land of the steadfast, the faithful, the heroic, the inspirational, the helpful, the hopeful, and the perfectly polished?  Not me!  I'd rather not write, not share, not speak, until I'm all fixed up and the heart project is complete and I can share the good news and the lessons learned and we can all live happily ever after.

Who wants to hit the "publish" button knowing that the person sitting behind you at the next game may very well know what is going on behind your pleasant smile and the friendly "how are you?"  It's a small town where I live.  I don't think many people here do a lot of blog reading, but every now and then I get a comment, "Oh! I just read your blog!"  When that happens, I don't know whether to be happy or run and hide.

You see, I come from a long line of very quiet Dutch people who faithfully and respectfully kept their thoughts and feelings and problems to themselves.  After a lifetime of practice, I do an exceptionally good job of wearing the masks too.  I don't like to rock that boat. Or is it a wooden shoe?

(trying to pose like the ancestors)

Blogging could easily become a mask for me--a lovely mask where I could safely write and edit and delete every single word and picture until I have the perfectly polished presentation of my thoughts. Given enough time and tools I could always pick the perfect words to say. That's not real life.  That's not real me. I don't want to be that kind of blogger. I don't ever want anyone to visit my blog and find an edited perfected blog version of me. There are blogs that I don't read anymore for that very reason.  Their seemingly perfect "everything" leaves me feeling envious and  inadequate as a wife, mother, artist, blogger, and friend. Yuck.

So I struggle sometimes trying to find the balance. 

 Being real without being depressing. 

 Being honest without whining.
Sharing without preaching.

 But mostly I wonder...does it really matter?
I read what I've written and this is what I hear:

"Who really cares?"

"It's not important."

"It's not good enough."

"Why even try?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Someone else does it better."


I hear it all the time.

Do you hear it too?
When you write? When you draw?  When you paint? When you build? When you sing?
When you sew? When you play your song? When you send that letter?
When you bake that pie? When you snap that picture? When you hit that ball?
 When you lace up your shoes? When you pick up the phone? When you teach your kids?
When you offer to help? When you deliver those cookies?
When you do that thing that makes your heart sing?

I used to think that it was the voice of insecurity, a lack of confidence, or perfectionism talking. 

I used to think that maybe it was true.

It's not.

It's a bunch of lies.


And I'm not going to listen to it anymore.

(to be continued...in less than 7 weeks)

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; 

I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

~ Jesus of Nazareth,  John 10:10 

This is the Day

"Listen to your life.  See it for the fathomless mystery it is.
In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness:
touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it,
because in the last analysis all moments are key moments,
and life itself is grace."


~Frederick Buechner, Now and Then: a Memoir of Vocation

 Some days I'm just trying to maneuver through the crazy that life throws at me.

The calendar is full of scribbled reminders of where to be and who does what and when.

Still... I forget, I mess up, I drop the ball.

Other days I'm home, but not really here.
I'm off wandering around in my head and in my heart,
looking back and missing what was,
longing for what could have been,
mourning over what will not be.

But more than anything,
I waste my todays wondering about my tomorrows.

I've been told that I'm a patient person,

 but what I really want to be is a
 present person.
Present in the present.

Today is where it's at.
The right here.  The right now.
Tomorrow doesn't come with guarantees.

But today?

Well, it's a gift still waiting to be unwrapped.
And the Giver knows exactly what we need.

One Glorious Day

When a glorious long awaited spring day like yesterday finally comes, 

I just can't be inside. Especially if it's Sunday. 

Growing up we were not allowed to do much of anything on Sundays, but my Dad loved to go for a ride in the car.  Many times it was a combo--a ride to one of his childhood haunts where we would climb out of the car AND go for a walk.  This one place in particular stands out in my memory as VERY exciting.  Okay, family... I was pretty little and easily impressed, but was this not the most thrilling Sunday afternoon destination?

I don't remember much about this place but for the crossing of the stream.  There was this old remnant of a bridge and in order to cross the stream you had to shimmy sideways across a narrow metal beam.  You can't see it well in the picture, but there was a rusty rail to hang onto. Look at my Mom--I love it!  She never wore pants for anything.

I don't know if I ever crossed by myself.  In my memories, I'm always riding on Dad's back--terrified and excited as he confidently made his way across.  I loved it.  I loved Sundays.  I'm sure I complained that it was an excruciatingly boring day.  But looking back, it really was my favorite day because we were always all together.

Last night, after I tucked Jacob into bed, he was sad because we didn't get to spend much time together during the day. Now don't feel too bad. He choose to spend the afternoon playing with his neighborhood friends.  He just gets sentimental at bedtime.  It's an effective ploy to get me to stay a little longer and rub his back and tell him stories.  So there we sat in the dark and I told stories about walking down to the corner Dime Store with Julie and getting a whole bunch of candy with just one quarter.

Then he says out of the blue,

"Do you miss your Dad?"

"Yes, Jacob, I miss him very much."

More than words can say.

But here's the thing.  

It's only temporary.  

We'll all be together one long awaited day,

 more glorious than the most beautiful spring day you can imagine. 

We'll walk together and hold hands again, I just know it. 

And we'll never ever have to say good-bye.

That was the plan.

(random winter photography)

Six months ago, 

I was about to adopt a toddler. I was about to enter a whole new journey of parenting an adopted special needs child. I was about to have five children. I was also about to start our sixth year of homeschooling, with three kids at home while the oldest spread her homeschooled wings and flew off to highschool. I was about to begin another year in leadership at Community Bible Study with a group of women who had grown near and dear to my heart over the past year. 

That was the road before me.  

That was the plan.  

Three very good things.  

Then it all came crashing down.  In a matter of weeks, everything changed.  Heart wrenching decisions completely altered the course.  In one tumultuous swoosh of God’s design, the good and worthy and excellent plans for the future came to a screeching halt.

We would not be adopting Levi.  We would not be homeschooling.  I would not be in leadership at CBS.

BAM.

Plans were shattered.

I was shattered.

And it was exactly what I needed.

Yes, I needed a good shattering of a lot of junk.  God, of course, knew it.

I also needed a shattering of a lot of good stuff.  

Even the "good" stuff in our lives can sometimes be the "wrong" stuff.

At the time, all these decisions and changes seemed so sudden and urgent.  But the reality is, we prayed for many years about adoption.  We prayed for many years about homeschooling our children.  For many years we sought God's will and prayed for God's direction in all these things.
  

Why then are we so surprised when God does exactly that?

Yes, it hurt a little (a lot). It took time to see through the mess of emotions.  God's message was clear.
Wait. Rest. Be still.  He is the one taking the shattered pieces and making something beautiful.
~ ~ ~
When it becomes clear that God has rocked your world, your head spins a little.  
When it becomes clear that He is lovingly and tenderly putting you all back together 
into the vessel he always had in mind,
well, 
your heart spins a little.

Bright Shiny and New

My sister recently asked me how I was doing.  What she meant was "Are you okay?" I was not immediately sure what she was referring to because frankly, this year has been so full of ups and downs.  Change lurked around every corner.  She could have been talking about any number of things.

But she was talking about Levi.
We all thought Levi would be home with us for Christmas.
It's hard to say his name. It's so much easier just to say "the adoption."  When I say his name, I see his face, and when I see his face, well, you can imagine.

So to answer her question.
I'm okay.
I'm surprisingly okay.
I hope I'm not in denial here, but I'm extraordinarily okay.
Thanks for asking.

The past year will certainly go down in the record books. I wouldn't have--couldn't have--planned it this way myself. Nobody would. And really, isn't that good news?  That when we step out in faith, God will work out his best plan for us...no matter what?  No matter how much we plan and strive, how hard we try to arrange and control, no matter the decisions we make, paths we take, messes we create, no matter how long we wait...God is in control and he'll get us where we need to be. That truth has become so real to me. I wear it like a favorite pair of jeans.

I'll take his plan over mine any day.   

And you know what?  I haven't been this full of hope in a long time. Crazy isn't it?  After all the heartache, all the stress, all the unexpected change?  I couldn't begin to explain in one single post, but there's a bright shiny new hope written upon my heart.  I'll sum it up simply with five familiar words: 

Jesus loves me this I know.

Not just because the Bible tells me so.  I know it because I've seen it, felt it, prayed it, cried it, and lived it through the mountain top highs and dark valley lows of this year. I'm learning that my messy, sinful, bruised, and battered heart really matters to him.  I haven't always believed that, so we are making big progress here.

From the outside, our life and family may look pretty much the same as it did 12 months ago. But let me tell ya', we've changed and grown in ways that cannot be measured by outside appearances.  Maybe that was the plan all along.

Yes. Jesus love me. And you. And Levi.

This I know.

I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Psalm27:13

A Sticky Holiday

 (click here to find the inspiration for our thanksgiving day breakfast! )

Jesus said, "In this world you will have trouble."

Now that's a strange way to start a Thanksgiving Day post.
I bet you're thinking I burnt the turkey this year. Nope! The food was delicious!
But holidays are an emotional minefield of sorts for me--
or for anyone that has experienced loss.  
The sweet memory making of today mingles with the bittersweet memories of the past.

There are just so many triggers--the traditions, the food, the scents, the songs, even the weather.

One minute I am down deep grateful for God's abundant provision. 

The next minute I am down deep longing for what's missing--
for who is missing from our celebrations.
It's a sticky situation.

"But take heart!"

What do we do with our hurting hearts?

Pretend all is well?  Hide the hurt under layers and layers of...something, anything?

No! What good is a buried heart?  Besides, I've tried that.  It doesn't work.

  We live in a broken and sinful world.  We will hurt.
Our hearts would be numb if we didn't feel the pain right alongside the joy.

 Here's the good news for hurting hearts.

There is reason to hope for--even long for-- something more, something better.

 "I have overcome the world!" 

John 16:33

God wins! One day, God will make all things right.
Complete restoration.  No more brokenness. No more tears.
Thanks to Jesus, we can live each day in joyful anticipation for our heavenly home.
And while we're here, we need to share that good news to a hurting world.
We need to wake up each new day and choose to see the gifts and receive the grace.


Yes, some days are harder than others. Some lives are harder than others.
But everyday with God there is joy to be had and love to be shared.

Remember, the future is bright.  Take heart, and give thanks.

~ ~ ~

My heart is filled with thankfulness
To Him who bore my pain
Who plumbed the depths of my disgrace
And gave me life again
Who crushed my curse of sinfulness
And clothed me with His light
And wrote His law of righteousness
With pow'r upon my heart

My heart is filled with thankfulness
To Him who walks beside
Who floods my weaknesses with strength
And causes fears to fly
Whose every promise is enough
For every step I take
Sustaining me with arms of love
And crowning me with grace

My heart is filled with thankfulness
To Him who reigns above
Whose wisdom is my perfect peace
Whose every thought is love
For every day I have on earth
Is given by the King
So I will give my life my all
To love and follow Him

(source)

Safe and Sound

Last Sunday we got a flat tire. "We" -- meaning all six of us in the van. On the highway. It's cold. It's windy. We're 30 miles from home.

Where's the Greatest American Hero when you need him?

I loved that show way back when.  I bet my brother can still sing the whole theme song. "Believe it or not--I'm walking on air..."  Remember that? Never mind.  Back to the saga on the highway.

My Mr. has never been put to this test. Do it himself? Nah. He has a better plan. One quick phone call and help is on it's way. Thank you for roadside assistance programs and cell phones!

Soon Mr. Roadside Assistance arrives, but he's having some difficulties. The big kids and Dad have to get out of the van and stand in the highway ditch or the lift won't work for Mr. Roadside Assistance. Mommy and Josie stay in the van. We pray. Mommy's nervous--thinking of the late night news headlines, and traffic accidents, and scary stuff.  Mommy prays some more.

Mr. Roadside Assistance finally gets the van up and the wheel off, ready for the spare. Problem is, a spare tire doesn't do you any good if you can get it off it's rusted bolts. Yes, that's right. The spare tire won't budge.  Mr. Roadside assistance can't help us anymore. Good-bye Mr. Roadside Assistance.

Now we're going to need Mr. Tow Truck. Another call. Another wait. But thank you for tow truck drivers! Problem is, six people are not going to fit in the cab of a tow truck. We don't know a soul in this town. It's late, and dark, and cold, and windy. It would take friends or family at least 40 minutes to get to us. More praying. We're going to need a taxi cab for six. Another call. But thank you for taxi cab drivers! We pile back into our van and wait on the highway, still praying.

Mr. Tow Truck arrives.

Mr. Taxi Van arrives.

God provides.

And we all head home--a thirty mile tow truck ride and a thirty mile taxi ride. It's the most expensive ride we've ever had, but worth every penny just to be home, all safe and sound.

Who needs superheros in tights? 

God answers prayers.

Unfinished Story

"So, what's new ?"

I really hate that question as a conversation starter.

I mean really, you have no choice but to say,

"not much."

Well, the truth is, there is not much new.

Yet things are very different.

Not that long ago, we expected, hoped for, and eagerly awaited 

a flight across an ocean to meet the little boy we were certain was ours.
We had hoped he'd be home by Christmas.

I have clothes collected from yardsales over the summer
not even knowing exactly what size he would need--

cute little fall overalls, winter sweaters, and little boy jeans.
I am not sure what to do with that now.

Today it dawned on me that I had to take his pictures off this blog.

He is not ours. He belongs to someone else.
This is not the way I thought the story would end.
 But then again, I am not the author.

I'm not going to pretend that I understand what happened.
I certainly don't pretend to know what happens next.

But I'll tell you what I believe.

There is more to the story that we don't know.

And as much as I want to know...

as much as I want to go...

the answer I get is...
No. Not yet.

WAIT.

REST.

BE STILL AND KNOW.

After years of going, going, going on this adoption journey it's hard to be still.
It's hard to wait. It's hard to accept. It's way beyond my understanding.
 I may never get the answers to my questions.

There is a special quote of Steven Curtice Chapman that God used to get this whole story started:

“He (God) delights in doing things that we say are impossible.  Ours is to have the faith to take that first step.  If you start that journey and it isn’t completed the way you thought it would, God is still in that journey and will provide for you.  I would encourage people to step forward and see what God wants to do in their lives." 


We took that first step.  We took the zillion steps in between. 
But I never ever considered that our adoption journey would end without an adoption.

"If you start that journey and it isn't completed the way you thought it would, 
God is still in that journey and will provide for you."
I have to keep reminding myself. I really, really do.


"God is still in this."
"God is still in this."
"God is still in this."


REST in His timing. REST in His goodness. REST in His purpose.


Wait expectantly for the Author. 
The story isn't finished.

My Babies

I've been taking care of my babies for as long as I can remember.

If only my real babies would stay little a little longer.

It feels like I blinked and they grew up.

I'm so glad we spent the last 6 years together.

Because now this one has left the home school nest for high school.

 Eeek! When did that happen?

Wasn't I just in highschool? 

Please don't answer that.

This bird has flown the nest too.

And this one.

 

And this one.

It's a big change after 6 years all together under one roof.

I've had a few people ask ... and I know you're thinking it ...

 

Why?

Good question.  

I don't know why.  It's not burnout. It's not frustration. It's not a change of belief. All I know is that God calls us into things, and God calls us out of things. Six years ago, God led us to take our kids out of school and try home school.  For six years, that was clearly the best choice for our family.  That was my plan for this year too, but my plans are not always God's plans.  As the school year approached, it became surprisingly clear that we needed to follow God in a new direction. I don't know exactly why.  I've learned not to expect explanations from God.  But I do trust Him!

Even so, my head and heart are reeling. It's hard. Maybe that's why God made this change so sudden--because I would likely drive myself batty with a long and agonizing analysis. Sometimes, like taking off a band-aid, it's best to just brace yourself and go for it. I have shed many tears. I have lost some sleep. I have wrestled in prayer day and night. I don't like an empty house. I miss being together. I really believe in home schooling and have my concerns about this year.  But if I truly trust God is at work here, then I have to believe He knows what He's doing.

The kids are amazing.  They've made me so proud the way they have taken on this challenge. I have watched an organized and confident teen take on a new school, new classes, a new sport, and new friends like an old pro.  I have seen a young girl's courageous faith overcome her tween-age middle school insecurities with grace. I have witnessed a growing bravery build character in a little man's heart. And I have heard the delightfully random details of what is fun for a first grade social butterfly: recess, friends, recess, reading, friends, recess, caterpillars, recess, friends, art, recess, chrysalis, recess, music, friends, butterflies, recess, hot lunch, and...light-up twinkle-toe shoes are an absolute must.  Halleluiah! We finally learned how to tie our shoes with these beauties!

After today, we'll have our first full week at school under our belt. 

We have been warmly received and welcomed into the school family.

I know my kids are loved, appreciated, and cared for by their daytime teachers.

On Monday, Jacob didn't want to go. At all. But he did it.

And every day, with a lot of prayers and a little help from mom, 

he has gotten a little stronger and a little braver about his new daytime digs.

By Friday morning, it was Jacob who said to a tired and tearful Josie:

"Don't worry, Josie, 

Mom and Dad wouldn't bring you to school 

if they didn't think it was a good place to be."

Yep. I have a feeling we are going to be learning a lot this year.

"In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." ~ Proverbs 16:9

Note to Self

 

Yesterday was super-sized messy with a side of exhaustion and tears on top.

Honestly, when trouble strikes, I'm stubborn like a two year old...

"I DO IT MYSELF."

And then I feel alone. Go figure.

But that didn't stop my clever God from sending help--via four special messengers.

Thank you, special messenger #1, 

for going out of your way to encourage me with your kind words at the park.

You blessed my socks off.

Thank you, special messenger #2, 

for sending an unexpected card with heartfelt words.

It came on just the right day.

 Thank you, special messenger #3, 

for calling to check in on me. Again.

You're always a sweet surprise.

 Thank you, special messenger #4, 

for offering to listen or help, even on your way out of town.

Your call was a lifeline.

None of these beautiful people knew just how much I needed to be encouraged.

But God did.

Isn't He clever?
I think maybe He loves me.
(smile)

Note to self :

Blessed are Those who Mourn

There's a subtle change in the sounds, the shadows, the air of August.
 
It sneaks in without my notice most years. Before I realize what is happening, I change too.

It's inevitable. 

I grieve.

But it's okay.  I'm okay.

Dare I say... it's even good?

Yes, it's hard,
but just when I think I can't carry on,
the phone rings, the letter arrives, the card is given,
the reader comments, the children laugh,
the friend hugs, and the husband holds.
And all these little things are big evidence of this:

God loves.

You, my friends and family, are living, breathing, tangible proof that

God loves through people. 
I believe it more and more all the time.

Being on the receiving end of all this love has
reminded me all over again how important it is to give His love away.

Even the simplest thing, done with love and compassion, might be remembered for a lifetime...

 ~ ~ ~

I wore a bright, flowered dress that day,
the one my mom always liked best.

For some reason, wearing that dress was important to me...
but the rest of that day became a painful blur.
There is not much that I remember clearly.

Not the service.
Not the sermon.
Not the music.
Not who was there.

Not what was said.

I do remember how someone silently reached over and
pulled a single flower off a casket as it was lowered into the ground.
Without a word, he handed it to me.

He gave me something beautiful to hold onto.

A wordless gesture of kindness from a person I hardly knew 

became a sweet and beautiful moment in the brokenness of that day.

That person probably has no idea the impact he had on a young girl's broken heart.

I will never forget.

~ ~ ~

Often times, it's the little things that are big.

Listen to those little inner nudges to reach out in love wherever God puts you
and with whomever He puts in your path.

You know what I'm talking about. You probably know who I'm talking about.

Somebody needs His love.

Somebody will never forget.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." ~ Matthew 5:4

Losing It

It should have been one simple routine visit to the Dr.'s office.

But first I forgot the paperwork. Then I forgot my wallet.

Yes, I went back and forth between my house and the Dr.'s office three times.

The next day I needed to pick up a prescription at the pharmacy,

but I drove my van to the library.

On a morning run, a song made me cry. I cried hard.

FYI--it is difficult to breathe when you run and cry at the same time.

(Not to mention a little weird.)

My nerves are shot.

I can't tell you how many times this week I've reached for a cup in the cupboard

and the whole stack came crashing to the floor.

After the last cup crash, somebody asked,

"Mom, why are you counting to ten?"

In an effort to feel some sense of control in my life,

I have purged and re-organized my bedroom closet,

spontaneously  hacked down two overgrown bushes,

 and purchased a three month subscription for an online menu planner.

(too many 4:30 grocery runs this week)

I know what you're thinking.

This is not normal.

If you have seen me or had a conversation with me this week,

please take into consideration that I am not in my right state of mind

and forgive me if I didn't carry on a coherent conversation.

It's also entirely possible that I forgot something important--

like deodorant or brushing my teeth.

I'm sorry this post is so random.

My thought process is under extreme duress.

My sister has seen our vacation pictures. She thinks Todd and I look a little "off."

Um. yeah. You could say that.

Funny thing is we thought we were hiding it so well...

until we ended up in an Ohio emergency room because Todd

was having chest pains on our way home to Michigan.

(everything checked out okay after three hours in the ER)

I'd like to think that even under stress and heartache, I've got it all together.

Obviously not.

I'd like to think I can understand what's going on.

I cannot.

This fork in the road has taken me by complete surprise and

I'm running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.

And the sad thing is,

I know better.

God gave me a timely reminder this morning from Psalm 46:

"Be still, and know that I am God..."

Maybe its time to live like I believe it.

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, O Lord, for I have put my trust in you. 

 Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul."  Psalm 143:8