"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again." Maya Angelou
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Unclear of the Day
I've lost track, but am loving Lent. Television-free and working a few other practices into my little life. Loving. It.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 13
Lent finds me adding a few more "practices" to my 40 days (that I want to keep quiet) and still t.v.-less. Have watched a few shows with my husband and kiddo, but nothing on my own. Twenty minutes of news on a day where snow found its way from the sky and I had to see whether school was happening.
Today? A list of my thankfuls to start this Monday off.
-the practice of Lent.
-focusing more on the meaning of Easter.
-time alone.
-selling Girl Scout cookies at storefronts.
-the sunshine yesterday.
-promise of a clean car ride to work.
-the village of women in my life.
-the many "moms" who have adopted me over the year.
-Chris Daughtry's new CD.
-closed doors and recognizing open ones.
-tending to a heart with little experience.
-steady relationships that live on and on and on.
-a clean kitchen.
-the women I work with and often we laugh.
-Words with Friends (i know).
A Monday's best today. :)
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 9
We upgraded our systems at work yesterday to Windows 7. I left not feeling very "Lent-worthy" in my head or my heart. One real long, real unproductive day.
The evening ended with our first "Holden Evening Prayer Service." It was the most amazing service I have ever been too - my kiddo agreed. The entire thing is sun - and often in the round. I thought were were hanging out on a cloud of angels.
A soup dinner was held beforehand. Made friends with the sweetest lady. A widow. Talked my ear off, but loved it all the same.
Entering Day 9 without television. I miss it - but not as much as I thought. I am loving this Lent season.
"As Lent is the time for greater love, listen to Jesus' thirst...'Repent and believe' Jesus tells us. What are we to repent? Our indifference, our hardness of heart. What are we to believe? Jesus thirsts even now, in your heart and in the poor -- He knows your weakness. He wants only your love, wants only the chance to love you." ~ Blessed Teresa of Calcutta
Monday, February 27, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 6
“And I felt like my heart had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken that there could be no real joy again, that at best there might eventually be a little contentment. Everyone wanted me to get help and rejoin life, pick up the pieces and move on, and I tried to, I wanted to, but I just had to lie in the mud with my arms wrapped around myself, eyes closed, grieving, until I didn’t have to anymore.” Anne Lamott
Rejoining life. Anguish and Joy. They co-exist together. Amen.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 5
I'm not going to lie (which would be especially uncool during Lent), I miss my television. Last night, after the house was quiet and the hours were all mine, she called to me. I wanted so badly to hang out and "catch up with my DVR." It probably says something that I've personalized my tv habit. My. She. Yeesh. At least I don't have a name for the television...yet.
Instead, I caught up with my bible study. Three weeks behind, yo. After watching, I don't think I was actually behind, I think the delivery was right on time.
Anguish and joy. They can and often do co-exist together. The very thing that has been one's horror can morph into the situation that brings the greatest joy. Anguish can become joy.
Still noodling on that one. Onward to Day 6 of Lent! "...your grief will suddenly turn to wonderful joy."
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 4
Saturday. Random thoughts.
I totally blew my meatless Friday without meaning to. And didn't even realize it until hours later. God's grace is bigger than that. :)
Life is quieter. I don't know if it's the absence of television or the pointed resolve to remove distractions and focus. Television was just one of those distractions.
Moments seem bigger. Movements are more recognizable. The quiet is full. My heart is learning to be still.
God has blessed me with such strong women in my life. A village of them. I don't pay enough attention to their movement in my daily life. I want to live in that village every day - not just visit it from week to week.
One of those glorious women shared the most private moment with me yesterday. She was so vulnerable. We trust deep. We cried together. And laughed through the tears and the snot. Life is so big. God is so much bigger. And she is so brave in the face of something so beyond understanding. Honored. Moved. Changed. We love.
My daughter woos my heart. Brilliant. Strong. Sassy. Hilarious. She's growing up in a place that is safe for her to be exactly who she is. She knows she is loved. She can give words to every thought and worry. We receive and love and speak life. She will never have to worry. We will always be there. Her heart grows up full, knowing this.
I learned so much from my mother-in-law. Vulnerable. Sweet. Loving. Honest. My sister-in-law and I reminisced about her the second day of Lent. It's less bitter and just sweet after so many years of missing her. We talked about the cards she sent us every week, even though we saw her every weekend. The trinkets she would give us from shopping trips as she thought about what would make us happy. The way she loved her man. Her desire to be with family always. She would have loved our girl with such wild abandon. My heart aches over the thought of what a gift that would have been for her.
Dottie loved in the moment. She WAS the moment. She never left. No matter what happened. Even through hurt feelings, she still came back. Her ability to love and keep her family together lives on. Her son, her precious boy. He loves this way. It's not something he has to try to do. He just knows this is how life should be. He keeps short lists of offenses. Their family embraces everything and still loves. Still connects. I'm so thankful to have been raise up by these people. Twenty-one years with them. My heart is blessed.
God is so good. This article made me think of my mom-in-law. Missing you, Dottie!
Friday, February 24, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 3
Life without television is quiet. I don't think I actually watch tons of television - it just becomes the background noise of the house.
This morning when I woke up, I rolled over and immediately started for the remote. I'm a news junkie.
Lent is a spiritual training ground. Preparation for Easter - the sacrifice that makes life possible. Thoughts are still fresh and emotions swirling as I work to settle down. Move into a season without distractions. Looking for the small voice that sometimes can't be heard through noise.
Coming to Lent after a year filled with life-changing events (some good, some so difficult), I'm looking forward to what the next 37 days will bring.
A favorite line from this morning's blog reading:
"It doesn't matter what you get done if you've undone a heart--there are no real accomplishments apart from relationship."
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 2: Falling Away
"Let the things of this world fall away so the soul can fall in love with God. God only comes to fill the empty places and kenosis is necessary – to empty the soul to know the filling of God." Anne Voskamp
I've never observed Lent other than recognizing the 40 days prior to Easter as something that exists. I used to harken from "big church" in a primarily evangelical world and that's how we handled it. Nothing wrong with that. It just was.
In the wee Lutheran church we've been attending for about six months, Lent is more than a topic, it's a practice. A focus on the liturgical calendar has been interesting. Heart-warming. And instead of talking about Lent, I'm participating in it.
I gave up something that I knew would free up some time, put my focus on something other than my own time and something that I would miss after I made it through the week.
Goodbye, television. I made it through Day 1, but I missed it. The winding down of it. The noise of it in the background after my people are asleep. Falling asleep to it. I replaced it with reading, and study and prayer.
Heading into Day 2. Loving this devotional on Lent from one of my favorites. Ann Voskamp.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Lenten Thoughts - Day 1
Forgiveness as translated in the New Testament = aphiemi, meaning to send forth or away, let go from oneself. Forgiveness is our determined and deliberate willingness to let something go.
God is not asking us to let "it" go back into the black hole of nonexistence. Forgiveness means letting it go TO God. Letting it go from our power to His.
Lord, Your Word tells me that when I stand praying, if I hold anything against anyone, I am to forgive him or her, so that You, my Father in heaven, may forgive me my sins. (Mark 11:25).
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
she rested in circles
She thought the sky was always dark. Ominous. Brooding.
One day she realized this wasn't true. The blue just hides. Often.
Brightness, she found, beckoned her.
Hues of periwinkle and silver and incandescent pearl. Sun streams of golden orange danced on her skin. Bounced off of the crumpling asphalt.
She felt the world breathe her in. The embrace of it constrained her fight, yet gave her strength. That day, she felt as if she could do anything.
She felt like she could fly.
And there she was. Soaring. High above the world she knew. The omnious layer of black far below her. The sun beating on her new glow. She was light. Lifted. Loved. She knew the feeling wouldn't last, but for now - it was everything.
Eventually the landing came. Like a piercing thud that threatened to tear her very marrow. Ripped in two. Words and shrieks and oppression. Squeezing the life out of who she was. Or who she knew she could become.
She wouldn't think of that for now.
So she soared. Alone--but embraced. Spun in silver and gossimer. Clouds of cashmere called her name. So softly. Not quite a whisper.
Anything was possible. She nearly believed it up there.
And then she heard.
Words beckoning.
Life calling.
The heaviness of the day.
Familiarity.
The mundane.
As she landed, she thought she might die. She stopped breathing -- just for a few minutes.
Holding her breath helped the impact. Helped her survive what she hated.
And there was her life. Waiting.
She tried to remember how she felt five minutes before.
Impossible. But she remembered warm colors.
She tried to rest. But she kept running in circles. Over and over and over again.
She felt something in her pocket. A piece of cashmere.
Glimmering like only hope could.
A treasure.
They told her there would be a next time.
She didn't remember why. She just simply believed it was true.
One day she realized this wasn't true. The blue just hides. Often.
Brightness, she found, beckoned her.
Hues of periwinkle and silver and incandescent pearl. Sun streams of golden orange danced on her skin. Bounced off of the crumpling asphalt.
She felt the world breathe her in. The embrace of it constrained her fight, yet gave her strength. That day, she felt as if she could do anything.
She felt like she could fly.
And there she was. Soaring. High above the world she knew. The omnious layer of black far below her. The sun beating on her new glow. She was light. Lifted. Loved. She knew the feeling wouldn't last, but for now - it was everything.
Eventually the landing came. Like a piercing thud that threatened to tear her very marrow. Ripped in two. Words and shrieks and oppression. Squeezing the life out of who she was. Or who she knew she could become.
She wouldn't think of that for now.
So she soared. Alone--but embraced. Spun in silver and gossimer. Clouds of cashmere called her name. So softly. Not quite a whisper.
Anything was possible. She nearly believed it up there.
And then she heard.
Words beckoning.
Life calling.
The heaviness of the day.
Familiarity.
The mundane.
As she landed, she thought she might die. She stopped breathing -- just for a few minutes.
Holding her breath helped the impact. Helped her survive what she hated.
And there was her life. Waiting.
She tried to remember how she felt five minutes before.
Impossible. But she remembered warm colors.
She tried to rest. But she kept running in circles. Over and over and over again.
She felt something in her pocket. A piece of cashmere.
Glimmering like only hope could.
A treasure.
They told her there would be a next time.
She didn't remember why. She just simply believed it was true.
Monday, November 1, 2010
tragic things
After a long week of traveling to and from Chicago for work last week, I found myself jetlagged and asleep by 8 pm on Friday night - and subsequently, up at 6 am the next morning.
Nothing says "6 am" like a trip down the hill for coffee. And so I went.
Parked outside the mini-mart was an old Ford pickup - idling with no one inside. I had a "knock you down, bowl you over I miss my Dad" moment - right there in the parking lot. I burst into tears and didn't really know how to stop.
I collected myself and ventured into the mart. The owner of the pickup was about my Dad's age and was at the front counter purchasing cheetos and pepperoni sticks. Seriously? Two of my Dad's favorite things.
I miss my Dad. I miss my sisters. I miss my family. I could normally chalk this up to the pre-holiday chill in the air, but this year, it's something more. My Dad was in the hospital just a few weeks ago. It was very jarring to me. His health isn't great and it was truly an eye-opening moment for me.
Last week, while I was in Chicago, my Dad - who rarely calls - called. His sister has breast cancer. I haven't been able to get that one out of my brain. Results from her MRI will arrive tomorrow. My Aunt's daughter died 7 years ago from breast cancer. She was just 6 years older than me. I can't imagine what must be going through her head.
After arriving home from Chicago, my newly pregnant sister emailed us. She miscarried at 11 weeks.
Not one of these things is really about me, but it's affected me deeply. Life is so short. Too short. Health is a gift - a rare one. Family is not just important - they are life and breath wrapped up in one DNA-laden treasure. And my sisters are God's greatest gift to me. We laugh when we want to cry. We cry when we don't know what else to do. And we hold the key to a past that no one else will ever understand.
Live each breath as if it were your last and love as if your life depended on it.
Nothing says "6 am" like a trip down the hill for coffee. And so I went.
Parked outside the mini-mart was an old Ford pickup - idling with no one inside. I had a "knock you down, bowl you over I miss my Dad" moment - right there in the parking lot. I burst into tears and didn't really know how to stop.
I collected myself and ventured into the mart. The owner of the pickup was about my Dad's age and was at the front counter purchasing cheetos and pepperoni sticks. Seriously? Two of my Dad's favorite things.
I miss my Dad. I miss my sisters. I miss my family. I could normally chalk this up to the pre-holiday chill in the air, but this year, it's something more. My Dad was in the hospital just a few weeks ago. It was very jarring to me. His health isn't great and it was truly an eye-opening moment for me.
Last week, while I was in Chicago, my Dad - who rarely calls - called. His sister has breast cancer. I haven't been able to get that one out of my brain. Results from her MRI will arrive tomorrow. My Aunt's daughter died 7 years ago from breast cancer. She was just 6 years older than me. I can't imagine what must be going through her head.
After arriving home from Chicago, my newly pregnant sister emailed us. She miscarried at 11 weeks.
Not one of these things is really about me, but it's affected me deeply. Life is so short. Too short. Health is a gift - a rare one. Family is not just important - they are life and breath wrapped up in one DNA-laden treasure. And my sisters are God's greatest gift to me. We laugh when we want to cry. We cry when we don't know what else to do. And we hold the key to a past that no one else will ever understand.
Live each breath as if it were your last and love as if your life depended on it.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
she thought about things
She wasn't a fan of pain. Not really, anyhow. But she migrated to it every once in a while. Like a carribean vacation. Only without the sun.
She didn't love the past. It hurt with it's knots and twists. She left it miles and miles away.
The tangled mess didn't undo itself. The knots got tighter. Cords frayed.
So she went back. With dark glasses. She thought she could unravel the largest knot.
When she first arrived, she heard deep, cavernous sounds. Echos of nothing. Birds and trees didn't live here. Just darkness. And her jagged breath with sharp edges.
She tripped. And didn't get up. She could have. But she didn't. Being crazy made her tired.
The hours stopped, so did the years. There she lay in her past. Sometimes she heard footprints. And then nothing. She was used to the sounds of nothing.
Her skin had grown thick. The sharp edges only felt like pricks.
One day, she caught a glimmer of light through the bramble. Her memory was buried. It hurt too much to look. Did she even have eyes anymore?
She heard sounds. She thought of other things.
She felt the edges begin to prick. Just a bit. She'd felt worse.
She felt warmth. Then realized that she had begun to bleed. She wasn't squeamish anymore.
Still, the choice. Remain in the darkness and bleed a long slow death. Or stand up. And live.
Her head was pounding. Her stomach lurched. She hadn't eaten in years. Sharp edges had become her sustenance. Her comfort.
Little hands. A small voice.
The bleeding stopped. She didn't want to, but she got up. Sharp edges were everywhere. Something propelled her past them.
A young life. A new future. She had to look. Had to live. Had to heal.
People stared. Her scars were deep and painful. And visible to everyone. Shame followed her. Everywhere. She felt hideous.
No one understood. Not even her family. That was the knife wound.
Still, the young life. The blonde voice. Please, just stop.
The scars hurt. She healed slowly. And badly. She bled often. But not enough to make her lie down.
She had to live. Even when her past found her. It tried to kick her down. With images. And wickedness. Songs of remembrance. It was too much.
But still, her memories came with a soft voice. Please, just stop.
Instead, she stopped. Opened her hands. Pursed her lips. And pulled it all down. Every betrayal. Every untruth. Every misunderstanding. All of it.
Voices of love. Voices of young hearts.
Survival.
Masochism.
Rejection.
Abuse.
Abandonment.
She looked it square in the face. She remembered. All of it. She couldn't love it. But she didn't make it leave. Instead, it became small.
It couldn't stand to be stared at.
Was that the trick the entire time? In the land of sharp edges.
Some didn't believe her. Or her past. She didn't care. They were her tattered pages to tear up. It was her truth.
Sometimes she involved others. And sometimes, she regretted.
Sometimes, it was the best thing she ever did.
A boy with drums brought healing once. And truth. And some new pain.
But it was necessary.
She had to look at betrayal. With her sharp teeth and malicious lies and hatred.
Yet, she came from betrayal. She had to embrace her with boundaries.
The young life. The small voice. A new smile.
New thoughts. Possibilities. Flowers instead of sharp edges.
Pain? Yes. Devastating and life-altering? No.
She needed to pay attention to the young life. She had shoulders now that could carry her. And give the small voice a microphone with big feet.
She would love it and give it something she never had.
Hope. For a future. And the promise of different days than she had known.
She still has dark glasses. The little voice doesn't like them. So she only wears them once in a while.
The little voice often shrieks at the top of her lungs. And no one yells. Her young life stares wide-eyed at everything. And knows nothing of dark things.
The young life saved her. Hugged her. Delivered her. Softened sharp edges.
And somewhere in her world, this all makes sense.
Because her past is beautiful.
She didn't love the past. It hurt with it's knots and twists. She left it miles and miles away.
The tangled mess didn't undo itself. The knots got tighter. Cords frayed.
So she went back. With dark glasses. She thought she could unravel the largest knot.
When she first arrived, she heard deep, cavernous sounds. Echos of nothing. Birds and trees didn't live here. Just darkness. And her jagged breath with sharp edges.
She tripped. And didn't get up. She could have. But she didn't. Being crazy made her tired.
The hours stopped, so did the years. There she lay in her past. Sometimes she heard footprints. And then nothing. She was used to the sounds of nothing.
Her skin had grown thick. The sharp edges only felt like pricks.
One day, she caught a glimmer of light through the bramble. Her memory was buried. It hurt too much to look. Did she even have eyes anymore?
She heard sounds. She thought of other things.
She felt the edges begin to prick. Just a bit. She'd felt worse.
She felt warmth. Then realized that she had begun to bleed. She wasn't squeamish anymore.
Still, the choice. Remain in the darkness and bleed a long slow death. Or stand up. And live.
Her head was pounding. Her stomach lurched. She hadn't eaten in years. Sharp edges had become her sustenance. Her comfort.
Little hands. A small voice.
The bleeding stopped. She didn't want to, but she got up. Sharp edges were everywhere. Something propelled her past them.
A young life. A new future. She had to look. Had to live. Had to heal.
People stared. Her scars were deep and painful. And visible to everyone. Shame followed her. Everywhere. She felt hideous.
No one understood. Not even her family. That was the knife wound.
Still, the young life. The blonde voice. Please, just stop.
The scars hurt. She healed slowly. And badly. She bled often. But not enough to make her lie down.
She had to live. Even when her past found her. It tried to kick her down. With images. And wickedness. Songs of remembrance. It was too much.
But still, her memories came with a soft voice. Please, just stop.
Instead, she stopped. Opened her hands. Pursed her lips. And pulled it all down. Every betrayal. Every untruth. Every misunderstanding. All of it.
Voices of love. Voices of young hearts.
Survival.
Masochism.
Rejection.
Abuse.
Abandonment.
She looked it square in the face. She remembered. All of it. She couldn't love it. But she didn't make it leave. Instead, it became small.
It couldn't stand to be stared at.
Was that the trick the entire time? In the land of sharp edges.
Some didn't believe her. Or her past. She didn't care. They were her tattered pages to tear up. It was her truth.
Sometimes she involved others. And sometimes, she regretted.
Sometimes, it was the best thing she ever did.
A boy with drums brought healing once. And truth. And some new pain.
But it was necessary.
She had to look at betrayal. With her sharp teeth and malicious lies and hatred.
Yet, she came from betrayal. She had to embrace her with boundaries.
The young life. The small voice. A new smile.
New thoughts. Possibilities. Flowers instead of sharp edges.
Pain? Yes. Devastating and life-altering? No.
She needed to pay attention to the young life. She had shoulders now that could carry her. And give the small voice a microphone with big feet.
She would love it and give it something she never had.
Hope. For a future. And the promise of different days than she had known.
She still has dark glasses. The little voice doesn't like them. So she only wears them once in a while.
The little voice often shrieks at the top of her lungs. And no one yells. Her young life stares wide-eyed at everything. And knows nothing of dark things.
The young life saved her. Hugged her. Delivered her. Softened sharp edges.
And somewhere in her world, this all makes sense.
Because her past is beautiful.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A Grief Observed
I just read the most beautiful piece. The story of a mom-to-be. Ripe with anticipation, love, birth songs and bursting hearts. The reality of delivering a baby with Down Syndrome wasn't part of their script. Traveling her journey of words made my heart full. Happy. Hopeful. Thoughtful.
The last 30 days have been the strangest of my life. While I didn't prepare for the birth of a baby or have Down Syndrome slice through my life, I have watched life break in half. I caught a very small, broken heart and did my best to stitch it back together. I shared tales of my own losses. My husband shared the same while his own heart ripped in two. I nursed bruises that weren't visible and wiped tears that wouldn't stop pouring. I made promises that things would get better. and that the human heart really couldn't break in half physically, even if it felt like it. I did my very best to weave something beautiful, believable and precious out of a situation that was none of those things.
Above all of that, I sought the Lord. Something I haven't done that fervently in a very long time. I didn't want to at first. I was so sad. Furious. Desperate. Annoyed.
The thing about God? He's there. Whether we acknowledge Him or not.
Almost one month has passed and I've realized a few things.
THE heart of a ten-year-old is resilient.
THREE are better than one
"PAT ANSWERS" don't work when death is imminent. Honesty is important
Our memorial to Ladybug - balloons with messages that we let loose to the heavens to meet Ladybug there.
LOSING someone to cancer sucks today just as much as it did 12 years ago.
THE loss of a loved one is tragic-whether human or animal.
"PAT ANSWERS" don't work when death is imminent. Honesty is important
THE LORD is faithful - even when I am not.
FRIENDSHIP is an investment. I've never been more thankful for mine.
Life is fickle. Whether you're ready for it to move on or not, it simply does.
"He is my constant source of stability." Isaiah 33:6
Ladybug, we miss you, sweet kitty. Hope opened up her DSi today and was faced with reminder after reminder of your many photo sessions and how much she loved you. I don't know another cat who was so loyal - or who could rock a pink snow cap the way you did. Thank you for investing in our lives - and for allowing us to be your family. RIP, Ladybuggies. RIP.
10/96 - 2/27/10
Hope saying goodbye to her trusted companion and most loyal friend.
Our memorial to Ladybug - balloons with messages that we let loose to the heavens to meet Ladybug there. Monday, February 15, 2010
For the love of blogging...
Where has the time gone? We're 2-1/2 months into 2010 and so far, the new year has been good to our family. Highlights so far?
1. Ira Glass live at the Pantageous. If you don't catch his show on NPR/WBEZ (chicago), the podcast is worth the subscription (ie it's free!). www.thisamericanlife.com. I was inspired and moved by Ira's love for his craft - telling poignant stories. He is what good radio is all about.
2. Hope turned 10. I still can't believe it. But she did. I love that kid.
3. Elton John and Billy Joel. Three and a half hours of the biggest blast from the past. Amazing. Dinner at Ruth's Chris beforehand was amazing as well.
4. Avatar in Imax 3D. I am seriously NOT an action/adventure girl. I'm all about a chick flick, a nice latte and a foofy drink. My husband surprised our daughter and I with tickets to see Avatar on Valentine's Day. It was...amazing. Creative genius. GO. SEE. IT.
5. Surprise!!! Lee's (fill in the number) birthday is the day before Valentine's Day. I managed to pull off a small surprise party for him with a little trip to Muckleshoot for the adults. It was a fun night and I think, he enjoyed himself as well! :-)
Hipster Ira Glass plays show snippets, shares the elements of a good story and the craft to making people want to listen.
Lee and I on his birthday. February 13th. This is the...19th birthday I have celebrated with this man. Typing that number freaks me out a bit. We've been together a very long time!
One of my most favorite people. Ever. Shannon. I adore her.
Lee and Danny (shannon's hubby) posing as we wait for our car at Muckleshoot.
1. Ira Glass live at the Pantageous. If you don't catch his show on NPR/WBEZ (chicago), the podcast is worth the subscription (ie it's free!). www.thisamericanlife.com. I was inspired and moved by Ira's love for his craft - telling poignant stories. He is what good radio is all about.
2. Hope turned 10. I still can't believe it. But she did. I love that kid.
3. Elton John and Billy Joel. Three and a half hours of the biggest blast from the past. Amazing. Dinner at Ruth's Chris beforehand was amazing as well.
4. Avatar in Imax 3D. I am seriously NOT an action/adventure girl. I'm all about a chick flick, a nice latte and a foofy drink. My husband surprised our daughter and I with tickets to see Avatar on Valentine's Day. It was...amazing. Creative genius. GO. SEE. IT.
5. Surprise!!! Lee's (fill in the number) birthday is the day before Valentine's Day. I managed to pull off a small surprise party for him with a little trip to Muckleshoot for the adults. It was a fun night and I think, he enjoyed himself as well! :-)
6. Climbing Mt. Peak. Wendy has been hauling my tuckus up that steep mountain. Ten pounds are gone so far - here's to more mountain climbing!!!
Hipster Ira Glass plays show snippets, shares the elements of a good story and the craft to making people want to listen.Lee and I on his birthday. February 13th. This is the...19th birthday I have celebrated with this man. Typing that number freaks me out a bit. We've been together a very long time!One of my most favorite people. Ever. Shannon. I adore her.Lee and Danny (shannon's hubby) posing as we wait for our car at Muckleshoot.Lee's birthday cake a'la Wendy. A 1970 Chevelle. His dream car. :)
Wendy and I after my first 2010 venture up Mt. Peak. I did a little dance and everything.
Happy February, interenets.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
a year in the life
I haven't felt real 'bloggy' of late. Oh, there are some goals for 2010 floating around and I'm even wrestling to "heal a wound" right now. But I don't feel like writing about it. Not yet, anyhow. So here's a trip through our 2009...through what pics are on my computer, anyhow. Happy New Year, everyone!
We fought our way through the pickters and went to the greatest show on earth. It really, really was. Awesomeness.
Backyard fun begins when the pool goes up. I spent my fair share of time here as well.
Lyssie, Hope and Lee - jumping at Ocean Shores. Cracks. Me. Up.
One of the best meals - and experiences I've had in a long time. Amazing organization.
It was "Take Your Child to Work" day. So I did.
We celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary in July. I think this photo might be 16 years ago - BUT, it's what I have. Hello tight shorts. What was he thinking?
BAHAHAHHAHAH! To say my husband would die if he knew this were here is the understatement of the year. But he doesn't read my blog and I love this shot. Priceless.
Former neighbors visited right after Christmas. The orignal "ladies of the hood."
Ocean Shores - August 2009. FREEZING. 
My sister Katie took a train trip to Cali with our pop. We aren't slummin' it. This is at the train station. Love. Her. MUCH!!!
And this is my Dad. At the train station. Showing us his ticket. He was, in a word, "EXCITED!"
Hope was a scary white faced girl for Halloween. My pick, not hers. Not sure what else to say about that. :)
One of our favorite people: Miss Danielle. And Hope, of course!
Probably my favorite person on the face of this planet: my baby sister, Katie. She likes to be called Ishmail V. Toenail, but keep that one here.
Two of the most important women in our lives pose with Hope: Auntie Karen and Auntie Sandra. Girls weekend. T'was FUN!
Silliness with my Dad and sister. Love them much. :)
Hope in the back of an Arizona police car. Transport to the airport. Long story. :)
Not sure what mile this was - but on the rock and roll half marathon trail in seattle.
Before the race began. We all look very optimistic. And were not hobbling at this point. :)
Hope (right) and her BFF, Hannah at their school's spring fair. Cool face painting, yes?
I cheated. This isn't from 2009. But I love this photo. Hope is brave. 
Mom and Hope. Before a Girl Scout event of some sort. Or a birthday party. Or both.
Black Friday shopping. Our tradition stop for breakfast after shopping from 4 to 7 am.
Hope took up skating this year. She loves it. She's fast.
Hope's traditional "Holiday Cookie Decorating Party." Madness and frosting all in one.
Pure ridiculousness.
Hope (left) and her BFF Hannah AT the Miley Cyrus concert. Party in the USA, y'all.
We fought our way through the pickters and went to the greatest show on earth. It really, really was. Awesomeness.
Backyard fun begins when the pool goes up. I spent my fair share of time here as well.
Lyssie, Hope and Lee - jumping at Ocean Shores. Cracks. Me. Up.
One of the best meals - and experiences I've had in a long time. Amazing organization.
It was "Take Your Child to Work" day. So I did.
We celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary in July. I think this photo might be 16 years ago - BUT, it's what I have. Hello tight shorts. What was he thinking?
BAHAHAHHAHAH! To say my husband would die if he knew this were here is the understatement of the year. But he doesn't read my blog and I love this shot. Priceless.
Former neighbors visited right after Christmas. The orignal "ladies of the hood."
Ocean Shores - August 2009. FREEZING. 
My sister Katie took a train trip to Cali with our pop. We aren't slummin' it. This is at the train station. Love. Her. MUCH!!!
And this is my Dad. At the train station. Showing us his ticket. He was, in a word, "EXCITED!"
Hope was a scary white faced girl for Halloween. My pick, not hers. Not sure what else to say about that. :)
One of our favorite people: Miss Danielle. And Hope, of course!
Probably my favorite person on the face of this planet: my baby sister, Katie. She likes to be called Ishmail V. Toenail, but keep that one here.
Two of the most important women in our lives pose with Hope: Auntie Karen and Auntie Sandra. Girls weekend. T'was FUN!
Silliness with my Dad and sister. Love them much. :)
Hope in the back of an Arizona police car. Transport to the airport. Long story. :)
Not sure what mile this was - but on the rock and roll half marathon trail in seattle. 
Before the race began. We all look very optimistic. And were not hobbling at this point. :)That's what I've got, folks. Happy 2010!!! :) Be well and prosper. :) Spock, out.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
all things are possible
Christmas is my favorite holiday. Hands-down. Candy canes and Christmas lights may as well be my middle name.
Seriously.
December 2009 finds me wondering how Christmas can possibly be 3 days away and where my Christmas spirit is. Is it even possible to find my 'ho-ho-ho' with so few days left? I'm not sure.
Today was my last day at work for - wait for it, wait for it - 12 days. That's right. I'm not sure I've ever been in more need of a break. Or if a break was ever more deserved. Sounds slightly puffed up, I know - but I have worked really, really hard over the past few months. At a speed that I truthfully don't want to try to keep up with.
Back to Christmas and those 3 days. I haven't gotten Christmas cards out. I tossed something together this week that I'm absolutely not sending. It's not my best graphic work, that's for sure - but we also have not one decent photo in our catalog, so to speak. The camera phone is dandy, but it's become our "go to" for photos and a good family photo it does not take.
The truth of today is this: I've spent a good portion of it feeling weepy and well, crying. It's so stupid really. There's this 8-year-old girl living within me who experienced Christmas at its heights and depths. Once upon a time, I belonged to a family who was knitted to one another. Two sets of grandparents, two parents, two sisters, a gaggle of cousins and some of the best food around. We gathered for all the holidays. No questions asked.
I'm thankful for my husband's family who close to 18 years ago, took this raggamuffin in and made me one of their own. Christmas celebrations at Lee's mama's were something to behold. God, I miss her so much.
The death of our family matriarch (lee's mama) has left such a void over the years. The lack of Jesus in the family doesn't help. But we've limped through the years and I think are finally experiencing a small version of what Christmas used to be.
I don't know why this day has left me so sad. I started out by saying that December has been rough. But what I really think is this:
Life is shorter than we can imagine. It's too short for lies and grudges and wounds. It's not long enough for grandparents to not know their grandkids. The mom of twins in Hope's class passed away in her sleep a few weeks ago at age 37. Sometimes, we don't have tomorrow to make that thing right. Or change a way, send a card or remember a birthday.
Sometimes, we just have to celebrate what we have. Happiness takes courage. At least it does for me. And I'm determined to bring some joy into the most important holiday of the year.
The birth of Jesus.
Seriously.
December 2009 finds me wondering how Christmas can possibly be 3 days away and where my Christmas spirit is. Is it even possible to find my 'ho-ho-ho' with so few days left? I'm not sure.
Today was my last day at work for - wait for it, wait for it - 12 days. That's right. I'm not sure I've ever been in more need of a break. Or if a break was ever more deserved. Sounds slightly puffed up, I know - but I have worked really, really hard over the past few months. At a speed that I truthfully don't want to try to keep up with.
Back to Christmas and those 3 days. I haven't gotten Christmas cards out. I tossed something together this week that I'm absolutely not sending. It's not my best graphic work, that's for sure - but we also have not one decent photo in our catalog, so to speak. The camera phone is dandy, but it's become our "go to" for photos and a good family photo it does not take.
The truth of today is this: I've spent a good portion of it feeling weepy and well, crying. It's so stupid really. There's this 8-year-old girl living within me who experienced Christmas at its heights and depths. Once upon a time, I belonged to a family who was knitted to one another. Two sets of grandparents, two parents, two sisters, a gaggle of cousins and some of the best food around. We gathered for all the holidays. No questions asked.
I'm thankful for my husband's family who close to 18 years ago, took this raggamuffin in and made me one of their own. Christmas celebrations at Lee's mama's were something to behold. God, I miss her so much.
The death of our family matriarch (lee's mama) has left such a void over the years. The lack of Jesus in the family doesn't help. But we've limped through the years and I think are finally experiencing a small version of what Christmas used to be.
I don't know why this day has left me so sad. I started out by saying that December has been rough. But what I really think is this:
Life is shorter than we can imagine. It's too short for lies and grudges and wounds. It's not long enough for grandparents to not know their grandkids. The mom of twins in Hope's class passed away in her sleep a few weeks ago at age 37. Sometimes, we don't have tomorrow to make that thing right. Or change a way, send a card or remember a birthday.
Sometimes, we just have to celebrate what we have. Happiness takes courage. At least it does for me. And I'm determined to bring some joy into the most important holiday of the year.
The birth of Jesus.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
I tend to put on a few pounds during the winter months. Lack of exercise, abundance of holiday treats, and the illusion of control that exists in my mind.
This year, I entered October, determined that this wouldn't happen. I felt like things were going okay. True, exercise hasn't been happening much, but I've been watching what goes into la hatch and THINKING about exercising a lot. My brain hurts from the process, even.
Black Friday found me in Lane Bryant, looking for a dress. Those who know me well, know that shopping is one of my least favorite things. Especially for clothes. A holiday party was around the corner and jeans and my Uggs (okay, fake Uggs) weren't going to cut it. Hope was with me and we both laid eyes on the same dress, at the same time.
"Mom, that is SO cute. You should get it." So I did. My size wasn't on the rack, so the store ordered for me and had it delivered 3 days later. Just a few days before the party. I felt good about the purchase. My jeans were fitting. And like I said, I've been watching what goes into "la hatch."
You can probably already guess how this ends.
The dress arrived. It didn't fit. I was shocked. Granted, it wasn't a very forgiving material - but the reality is, it didn't fit.
To back up 20 steps, going to a "dress up" party is not my thing at all. In fact, it's the opposite of my thing. While I did purchase a ticket to this ladies night out at the Murano, it was to help a friend who really wanted to go. This kind of night, is truly her kind of night.
The ill-fitting (okay, non-fitting) dress sent me to a bad place. I went to Lane Bryant the next day. Numerous phone calls unearthed the fact that my dress wasn't available in larger sizes.
Super.
I pulled five dresses into the fitting room with me. Gross. Too small. Horrible. Too tight. Too low. A last ditch effort found me with a black number that didn't look awful. Lane Bryant thankfully exchanged it at the "black friday price" and off I went. Two sizes greater than I normally wear.
Two. Sizes.
The evening came and went. My friend, whom we all rallied around, came down with a horrific case of the flu and couldn't go. She asked that we all go without her. I wish I had listened to my gut and bagged it. Not so much because of the dress fiasco, but because the only reason I agreed to go, was for her. And she tends to be the glue in those types of situations. The night wasn't horrible and some laughs were had.
Me and the dress? Not pretty. I don't think I have ever felt so uncomfortable in all of my days. One of the girls managed to grab 3 photos of us that evening. To say I didn't want to pose for pics is the understatement of the year. But I did it. They are floating around on facebook right now and I am horrified. Refusing to tag myself.
So what am I going to do about it? Very privately continuing to try. Yesterday, I bonded with my treadmill. I won't lie. Eighteen minutes of jogging was all I could muster. I'm about to bond with it again momentarily. If you've read any of my blogposts, the question is likely looming for you too, "How long will she stick with it this time?"
I don't have the answer to that. But I am so sick of myself I could spit.
One of my dearests friends and most favorite people comes to World Vision every Monday. I'm never there, so I rarely see her. Except for last week. I was there. So was she. She's very tall - 6'1, I think. And has gained a lot of weight over the past few years. Two babies and life struggles can do that to a girl.
I was thrilled to see my girl and SHOCKED to see how thin she was. She did the growth hormone program. And to quote her: "It was the worst 40 days of hell I have ever seen." She's on the "resting" phase. And not sure if she'll pick it up again for the next 40 days stint. What's the trick? The ads say the growth hormone, but she said it's the 500 calorie/day diet. Even with the hormone, she was starving. Crying into the night because she was SO freaking hungry.
The bigger thing it showed her is how enmeshed she is with food - and how broken she was without it.
I'm not sure what all of this means. I know that I have an addictive non-hunger-driven habit of eating what I want and overeating. And a pension to lethargy. These things combined have brought me to larger than life proportions that will not go away without exercise and diet control.
I'm so over this - but that's nothing new. I'm tired of the multiple personalities I seem to exhibit when it comes to diet and exercise. I'm all in or all out. Nothing in between.
For now, only the blogwaves will know my journey and struggle. I'm so sick of talking about exercising - why I do, why I don't, why I eat, why I overeat. For now, I'm just focusing on today. Aiming to make one good choice after another.
Last night, after a very good day, I found myself taking shots of whipped cream before bed. Disgusting, I know. It crossed my mind not to, but I did it anyhow. And THAT is the habit that needs to be broken. Last night, whipped cream. Another night, 2,000 calories of something more disruptive.
Here's to focusing on today. And asking God for help.
This year, I entered October, determined that this wouldn't happen. I felt like things were going okay. True, exercise hasn't been happening much, but I've been watching what goes into la hatch and THINKING about exercising a lot. My brain hurts from the process, even.
Black Friday found me in Lane Bryant, looking for a dress. Those who know me well, know that shopping is one of my least favorite things. Especially for clothes. A holiday party was around the corner and jeans and my Uggs (okay, fake Uggs) weren't going to cut it. Hope was with me and we both laid eyes on the same dress, at the same time.
"Mom, that is SO cute. You should get it." So I did. My size wasn't on the rack, so the store ordered for me and had it delivered 3 days later. Just a few days before the party. I felt good about the purchase. My jeans were fitting. And like I said, I've been watching what goes into "la hatch."
You can probably already guess how this ends.
The dress arrived. It didn't fit. I was shocked. Granted, it wasn't a very forgiving material - but the reality is, it didn't fit.
To back up 20 steps, going to a "dress up" party is not my thing at all. In fact, it's the opposite of my thing. While I did purchase a ticket to this ladies night out at the Murano, it was to help a friend who really wanted to go. This kind of night, is truly her kind of night.
The ill-fitting (okay, non-fitting) dress sent me to a bad place. I went to Lane Bryant the next day. Numerous phone calls unearthed the fact that my dress wasn't available in larger sizes.
Super.
I pulled five dresses into the fitting room with me. Gross. Too small. Horrible. Too tight. Too low. A last ditch effort found me with a black number that didn't look awful. Lane Bryant thankfully exchanged it at the "black friday price" and off I went. Two sizes greater than I normally wear.
Two. Sizes.
The evening came and went. My friend, whom we all rallied around, came down with a horrific case of the flu and couldn't go. She asked that we all go without her. I wish I had listened to my gut and bagged it. Not so much because of the dress fiasco, but because the only reason I agreed to go, was for her. And she tends to be the glue in those types of situations. The night wasn't horrible and some laughs were had.
Me and the dress? Not pretty. I don't think I have ever felt so uncomfortable in all of my days. One of the girls managed to grab 3 photos of us that evening. To say I didn't want to pose for pics is the understatement of the year. But I did it. They are floating around on facebook right now and I am horrified. Refusing to tag myself.
So what am I going to do about it? Very privately continuing to try. Yesterday, I bonded with my treadmill. I won't lie. Eighteen minutes of jogging was all I could muster. I'm about to bond with it again momentarily. If you've read any of my blogposts, the question is likely looming for you too, "How long will she stick with it this time?"
I don't have the answer to that. But I am so sick of myself I could spit.
One of my dearests friends and most favorite people comes to World Vision every Monday. I'm never there, so I rarely see her. Except for last week. I was there. So was she. She's very tall - 6'1, I think. And has gained a lot of weight over the past few years. Two babies and life struggles can do that to a girl.
I was thrilled to see my girl and SHOCKED to see how thin she was. She did the growth hormone program. And to quote her: "It was the worst 40 days of hell I have ever seen." She's on the "resting" phase. And not sure if she'll pick it up again for the next 40 days stint. What's the trick? The ads say the growth hormone, but she said it's the 500 calorie/day diet. Even with the hormone, she was starving. Crying into the night because she was SO freaking hungry.
The bigger thing it showed her is how enmeshed she is with food - and how broken she was without it.
I'm not sure what all of this means. I know that I have an addictive non-hunger-driven habit of eating what I want and overeating. And a pension to lethargy. These things combined have brought me to larger than life proportions that will not go away without exercise and diet control.
I'm so over this - but that's nothing new. I'm tired of the multiple personalities I seem to exhibit when it comes to diet and exercise. I'm all in or all out. Nothing in between.
For now, only the blogwaves will know my journey and struggle. I'm so sick of talking about exercising - why I do, why I don't, why I eat, why I overeat. For now, I'm just focusing on today. Aiming to make one good choice after another.
Last night, after a very good day, I found myself taking shots of whipped cream before bed. Disgusting, I know. It crossed my mind not to, but I did it anyhow. And THAT is the habit that needs to be broken. Last night, whipped cream. Another night, 2,000 calories of something more disruptive.
Here's to focusing on today. And asking God for help.
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