Just Another Day...

I have been sitting down for about ten minutes. I just had the realization that this is the longest that I have sat down (other than brunch and dinner) all day. My back is killing me!

However, the pain is worth it...because I feel super duper accomplished!

This morning, the kids let us sleep in a bit, which was nice (and much needed for such a long day), then we went out to brunch, followed by shopping at Meijer and Walmart. We restocked our laundry room with laundry detergent, bought a few months worth of ketchup and more cereal, stocked up on some hygiene products for the kids, and got some cleaning products (oh, how ironic!). Then, Walmart to buy some food for dinner tonight, some decor for the upstairs bathroom (a new shower curtain and a bath rug mainly), and some other random items.

These are not our actual bags from shopping, but ya know, bags are bags, eh?

The arrival home led to some cleaning. Jose made dinner to put into the crockpots while Isa and I cleaned the living, dining room, and basement. Teo napped (he doesn't feel well...boo!). After Jose finished food, Teo continued to sleep and we cleaned the upstairs hallway, some of Isa's room, the bathroom (and added the new decor), and cleaned through the books. I got a bag of books for the yard sale from it.

This is not our bookshelf, but pretty much resembles how it looks most of the time. We do have the Olivia book though!

We threw the dirty clothes down the stairs, then to the laundry room. I began to fold the laundry that filled the pool table. Jose's sister and her kids arrived for dinner, so we began to set the table, get food together, etc. Then, I sat down for dinner (and seconds!). After filling my gut with yummi-licious food, I cleared the table, did dishes, cleaned up the leftovers, wiped down the kitchen, and returned to the basement to finish folding laundry. I did the whole pool table, and now, the clothes are all folded waiting for the hubs to put them away. I ended up with about six bags of clothes to get rid of that have made it to the pile growing in the kitchen.

Got this from a google search, but it pretty much sums up how we deal with laundry...

I came upstairs to say goodbye to the family and cleaned up really quick what was left out, before finally sitting down to watch a movie with the hubby man. Now, the only thing I am making myself do for the rest of the night is match socks. There are three shopping bags worth to sort through....have I mentioned that I hate sorting socks? At least I get to sit down!

I gotta put the laptop down, refill my coffee, and get at it! Lazy Saturdays are the best! Hahaha!

My Hypocondriac Husband

After being very exposed to the contagious MRSA, Jose began to panic at every bump, cut, and marker markings that he saw on our children.

Then, last week, on Thursday, he texted me to tell me that he needed to go to the doctor. "Why?" I asked. He said that he googled the symptoms of MRSA (fever, muscle ache, headache, lightheaded, sore throat, etc.) and he thought he had it. I asked if he had any open and infected wounds, to which he replied no. I told him that he was being dramatic, but to go ahead and go to the doctor (since he hasn't gone in years).

So, he went. And she confirmed that he was indeed being paranoid. The verdict: a cold.

Since then, he has acted like he was dying. I took the kids to a friend's house Thursday night, then we all lazied around Friday night. On Saturday, we stayed pretty lazy too (but there's a whole 'nother story there on Saturday) and then we went out for his birthday Saturday night while my mom babysat. And today still. He would be awful to deal with if he had something serious.

Hopefully, his immune system (the same one that has only allowed him to get sick about three times in the last ten years) kicks in soon because I'm tired of babying him. Hehehe!

Empty Your Baggage.

I have come full circle with the Father Fiction book.

I have read the entire book once through. I have blogged the entire book once through. I will now, after completing this post, tuck the book on it's shelf and leave it there, until I feel the need to pick it up again. The "God nudge" to look at it, read a specific thought or chapter, just when I need it. I feel certain that it will not be on my shelf, gathering dust, for long.

In coming full circle, I have blogged through most of the book, chapter through chapter, highlighting lines, paragraphs, thoughts that have struck me and my life. I strongly encourage you to get the book, either from amazon (linked above), another online site, a local bookstore, or even the library (but then you can't write all in it like I did!). And in coming full circle, I have now reached the last chapter. The chapter that hit me the hardest when reading it. The chapter that fueled this post on January 6th.

"When you forgive, you bear the burden that somebody else has given you without holding them accountable."

With forgiveness: "There was still pain, we still might be paying the price for the wrong that was done to us. It's just that we weren't going to make the other person pay for what they'd done; we'd forgiven them."

It strikes me that I can see such growth in so few months. There were things that I had forgiven for two months ago, but there were things that I still held deep inside. It's odd, but the other post was written right when I began counselling, right when I began to learn how to forge healthy boundaries. And forgiveness is very closely entertwined with boundaries, at least for me.

Am I perfect at forgiveness? Not even close. Do I complain about someone doing me wrong? Unfortunately. Do I forgive immediately? Ha. Do I eventually try and try and try to let it go and forgive? Yep. But the key word is eventually.

Does forgiveness mean forgetting? Do you allow someone to come back into your life after they hurt you, time and time and time again, because you forgive them? Every single situation is different. I cannot tell you how to forgive or how to work your way through your situation, because it is yours.

Did I forgive my husband for his affair? Yea. And we have worked our way through it, day by day, sometimes minute by minute, until he has earned my trust and my heart back. And I have to continually forgive him every time that hurt rises back up inside of me.

Do I forgive my dad for being an alcoholic? Yea. But, I have made the decision to not allow him back into our lives at this point until he is sober and reliable. And I feel secure in that decision. For years, I have allowed him to come right back in without no accoutability or even discussion about his drinking problem. Now, it is unstable for my kids and I have put my foot down. Does not having him in my life mean that I have not forgiven him? No. I love him. I forgive him fully. But I will not subject myself and my children to be hurt by his habits.

Do you have an abusive relationship? Is your significant other cheating? Gambling? Addicted to something? Do you have a friend who drains the life out of you? Do you have a long time grudge against someone? Think through the people in your life. Work to forgive them, and pray to know if that means moving forward with them or without them.

I have been freed by learning how to forgive. It wasn't about giving them pardon. Half the time, the other people in my life do not even KNOW that I have forgiven them for something that hurt me. But, over time, forgiveness gives you this weightlessness that you cannot even imagine if you haven't felt it before. Your heart is light and you are not burdened by these emotions and pains of wrongdoings. You may still have the consequences, but the drag of holding onto it is gone.

The what if's go away when you forgive...

What if my husband didn't have sex with her? What if he just stayed here with me? What if I didn't find her on that social networking site bringing her back into our lives? What if I was a better wife? What if I had loved him more?

What if my dad never drank? What if my dad moved back to Colombia when I was a kid? What if he had loved me enough to quit when I was born? What if he had loved my mom more? What if he wasn't such a slut? What if he was born here instead of South America? What if I was a better daughter? What if he had gotten custody of me?

They disappear. Because what if's are a waste of time. And forgiveness shows that to you. It shows you that it's okay how it is. That you can't change the past, that you've forgiven the past, and now, you look forward, towards the future.

God Made Me A Wounded Healer

As I am finishing up Father Fiction by Donald Miller, there is a concept that I have never heard or thought much about, until reading this book. And the more I have thought of it, the more intriguing it is.

Wounded Healer.
Wounded Healer.
Wounded Healer.
WOUNDED HEALER.

What is a wounded healer?

In an online article, it's defined as this:

"One important way of understanding illness, darkness and suffering is to see these states as processes by which an individual becomes a healer. Called the "wounded healer" paradigm, it is for many a process of initiation and of connection to a more expanded way of life. Of course, not everyone who enters difficult times becomes awakened by them. But for some who do, it is a process of metamorphosis. You may have your own personal history with this. You go through something very difficult. Perhaps it is a great physical or psychological illness, such as cancer or depression. Perhaps it is alcoholism or another addiction. It may be a great loss of an important relationship. You may even be called to the brink of death. And then something happens. You may hear voices speaking to you, telling you of the possibility of moving into another level of your life-or you may have another way of being "called." Something moves you into another stage of yourself, and your life changes. Your personality and interests change. You may be led to work with others to help uplift and heal them. You cannot go back to the life you once led. You are operating on an entirely new level."

And while I may not agree with other elements of the article or the posting website, the concept is there. And it's in the Father Fiction book, referring to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, which was a group being brought together to listen to cases and attempt to reconcile the country. When asked who should serve on the commission, Bishop Desmond Tutu replied that it should consist of victims, people whose lives had been "ripped open by the horrors of oppression." But, he added, "Not arrogant victims, not people looking for vengeance, instead people who have the authority of awful experiences, experiences that educated them toward empathy, and yet have within themselves hearts willing to forgive." These people would be wounded healers.
Donald Miller wrote, "It makes you wonder, doesn't it, whether or not God calls specific people who have specific pain into the authority of empathy? Experience is, after all, the best education. We are the ones who will wrestle with security, who will overcome our fear of intimacy, who will learn the hard task of staying with a woman and our children, who will mentor others through the difficult journey of life, perhaps rescuing them from what we have been rescued." The entire concept is what has driven the book, which I am also reading and will be blogging through, called The Gutter.

I fully believe in this possibility, and more likely, the success that this can bring. I started my job at Anchor by teaching fatherhood classes. It's not that I'm not educated enough to teach them or that the concept was beyond my capabilities, but no matter how much I tried, I could not relate to the fathers on the level that is most necessary because I, despite every effort I may make, do not understand being a father from a first hand experience.

However, with my Community Connections position at the church, people come in seeking help and as they unwrap their life to me, I can relate to many of their situations. I know what it's like to grow up in a divorced home. I know what it's like to struggle with addiction firsthand and through my interactions with my dad. I know what it feels like to lose touch with my faith. To struggle through a marriage and give up. To survive an affair. To have a complicated family through remarriages. To have to eat peanut butter sandwiches and potpies for months. To live in a dangerous neighborhood. To cut my skin. To want to end it all. To be threatened. To be scared. To love someone who is hurting. To feel sexually violated. And I have been broken hearted as I help people I love deal with their lives. Suicide. Cancer. Heart defects. Death of a baby. Miscarriage. Unplanned pregnancy. Unwanted children. Child Abuse. Domestic Violence. Begging for food. Murder. Drug use. Drug sale. Prison. Losing custody. Emotional abuse. Learning disabilities. Mental illness. Problems with school. Dropping out. Foster homes. Adoption. Stealing. Juvenile Hall. Being shot at. Rape. Molestation. And the list goes on and on. I can connect to them in a very different way because I have a connection to what they are going through.

And, that's the value of overcoming the Gutter...you can go back and help other people out too. So, I am thankful that God has given me a large range of trials and hurts and pains to overcome. And I am so very grateful that he has brought me through those things, stronger, with a love for Him, and a passion to serve others who are going through it.

So, what a great segway into the next batch of blog posts about my reading...stay tuned!

We Are Nothing More Than Fish On The Shore

One of the very last chapters in Father Fiction is about empathy, but the part that speaks to me the most is about spiritulity. And I love this line:

"What really led me to spirituality was the desire to believe I was human and that being human mattered."

Isn't that what a lot of us are struggling for? That belief that we are WORTH something. That we matter. I know that it's a common thought in my mind. The whole belief that I am just one more person on this overpopulated planet. I don't matter. I mean nothing. If I die today, who will care in ten years? My kids? My husband? But the world won't stop spinning. Books won't be written about me. Everyone will continue on with their lives. And I want them to, but I also would like to think that I meant enough, that I was worth enough that I won't just disappear into dust. But, that's the part of me that is not grasping the infinite life that really matters. When I die here, I won't live on in the minds of others forever. The world will not shake upon my death. Time will not stop. I am nothing more than human. But, the other part of me must remember that my life here is temporary and is not the important element. It's my death that will bring my eternal life, that when I die, what happens on earth isn't important. It's what happens in my afterlife. There will be great celebrations and parties and joy in heaven. That's what matters.

"Sometimes a human life can seem no more meaningful than a fish flopping on a shore. Writhing. Out of its elements. And I would love to tell you that the real problem in life is we believe we are writhing when we aren't, but that's not true. My spirituality, that is Christian spirituality, doesn't tell me to close my eyes and pretend life is beautiful and there are no problems to confront. I'm told, instead, I am out of the water, and if I want't to find water again, I must go in search of a different kind of water. All of us have been washed on the shore. We all have issues, we are all broken. The brokenness we experience, the brokenness that mingles in our DNA, is a kind of fallout from the fall of man. Men and women are made to be in a relationship with God, but because of the fall of man, we aren't."

Purpose of life, the MAIN purpose of life, is not to become famous, or a great political leader, or to write a hundred books, or gain a million friends, or to touch the life of everyone you come in contact with. (Although some people are called to do that and that is what God planned for their life. There's nothing wrong with it. It's just not everyone's calling. And it is not the main purpose.) The main purpose of life is to rebuild that relationship with God, and the death and resurrection of Christ made that possible. It does not matter what you do or do not accomplish in humanly terms; but what matters is your relationship with the Creator.

And, because of various situations, that relationship is easier for some and tougher for others. And trials and temptations shake the foundation and you sometimes question Him, you curse Him, you scream out "WHY?! How could you do this to me? How could you allow this to happen?!" and that's okay. But, remaining strong and focused on building that relationship is what really matters.

"I think we are all looking for this quick fix, but relationships don't work that way. We step into them in faith, and they grow stronger, they change us."

A relationship with God is no exception. It's a leap of faith, but over time, over trials and their resolution, over questions and tears, it becomes a stronger relationship. And, through it, we change for the better.

Keep Sharpening Up

Many people know that 99.9% of the time, I will say that I am NEVER going back to school. Ever. The other .01% of the time, I am barely considering it. And that is only because I have brief moments of wondering if I should pursue professional therapy. Then, I tuck the idea back away until the other 999 times of saying, "Never ever" pass.

I have a Bachelor's Degree. A BA in Psych with a minor in Soc. Many people "ooh" and "ahh" when I say that I graduated from college when I was 20; that I did a four-year degree at a liberal arts college in three years. But, in going through my life, I didn't learn most of what I know in college. I have learned more in the last two years than I did in all three years of earning my BA.

In a chapter on education in Father Fiction, Donald Miller refers to a teacher of his who stated that if we are coasting, we are moving downhill. I can see that. In college and a couple years afterwards, I went on autopilot mode, I began to coast. And then, when I realized what was going on, it was too late. I had already crashed, rock bottom. Now, I make an effort to continually think, write, analyze, read, etc. in effort to minimize that coasting.

In the book, Donald writes this and I believe it may be worthy of a wall hanging as well:

"If we aren't learning, we are forgetting; if we aren't getting smart, we are becoming dull."

It's like a knife, as you use it, you wear it down. Then, at some point, it becomes so dull that you can barely function with it. You need to continually sharpen it in order to keep it functional.

Life is a process of learning. You never quit. But if you don't actively choose to continue learning, not necessarily through formal education, but just learning, growing, developing, moving forward....if you don't actively choose to do that, you will wear down. You will become dull and start to coast, go on autopilot, hit a standstill. And, like I mentioned here, that's not a good thing.

I No Longer Want Normal and Boring.

About three weeks ago, I cried out and begged to be boring, to have a boring life. To be mundane and normal. After bad weather and sickness and a kidney infection and a whole list of things that were unplanned and disrupted my idea of what needed to happen, I was frustrated and just needed normalacy and for life to be calm and quiet.

Then, I got some texts and calls that showed me that life was not going to be "normal" soon.  I had a week between the three kids where I was unable to do much work hours at all. I became frustrated and grumpy. All I wanted was calm and quiet, not more and more insanity. The icing on the cake was that we were throwing my sons birthday party this past weekend. I didn't even want to celebrate. I grew so bitter and angry. Why me? And despite the posts that I had written about self-pity, I felt some of it deep inside me.

We got swept into a life of crazyness, and none of it was our own doing. We didn't create the situation bringing my nephew into our house. We didn't make the kids get sick or make the snow/ice cover the streets, cancelling school. We didn't infect our babysitter. And all of this happened right after I cried out for God to make our life peaceful. We got arguements, grumpiness, sadness, tears, temper tantrums, mean and angry texts and phone calls, screaming matches with my husband, etc.

But, I have been posting about how these things, these times of struggle, bring us closer to God. And then, I just read this:

"The Franciscan priest Richard Rohr points out that Native Americans have a tradition of leaving a blemish in one corner of the rug they are weaving because they believe that's where the spirit enters. I can relate to the rugs. I want desparately for things to go 'how they're supposed to.' Which is another way of saying 'how I want them to,' which is another way of saying 'according to my plan.' And that, as we all know, isn't how it works. But it's in that disappointment, in that confusion, in that pain - the pain that comes from things not going how I wanted them to - that I find the same thing happening, again and again. I come to the end of myself, to the end of my power, the end of my strength, the end of my understanding, only to find in that place of powerlessness a strength and peace that weren't there before. I keep discovering that it's in the blemish that the Spirit enters." [an excerpt from the book Drops Like Stars by Rob Bell]

Ok, so crap. Seriously, in the margin, I wrote, "Holy crap. This is me. This is my life."

I desparately want boring, but I cannot grow with boredom like I can through struggling. It's like that muscle analogy that I posted about earlier this week with the Father Fiction book. (See, it really is surrounding me.) I need to have those places in my life where I am weak, where I am imperfect, where the Holy Spirit can enter into me and my life.

Otherwise, we return to that place where we are bored. Where we were before the affair when we become so "comfortable" that we no longer try, that we give up, that we do not struggle and turn to God and fight our battles, but where we are so numb that we don't move forward.

"If we aren't careful, our success and security and abundance can lead to a certain sort of boredom, a numbing predictability, a paralyzing indifference that comes from being too comfortable...Death by wallpaper and flooring." [Also an excerpt from Drops Like Stars.]

So, I may need to change my prayers and my plea and my cry for my life. I don't want to be boring and dull and comfortable. But, if God feels like He can ease my load a little, I'm okay with that...hehe. But, I need to continually remember to chose to to look at my trials and struggles as opportunity, not punishment.

Sometimes, Believing is Full of Lies.

More posting on Father Fiction by Donald Miller...

"A person who believes he is stupid is worse than a person who is stupid."

Oh...geesh.

The key word is believe.

When you believe that you are stupid, you behave stupidly. When you believe that you are bad, you behave badly. When you never have anyone telling you as a child that you are worthy, you believe that you are unworthy.

I was raised by a mom who was firm in her methods of parenting and one thing that I took from her that I have encorporated into our parenting is this: You never ever tell a child that they are bad, or stupid, or ugly, or anything negative. Their actions may be bad and their attitude may be ugly, but those things can be changed. But when you tell a kid, "You are stupid. You are a bad kid. You are ugly." they internalize those things and use them as defining factors for who they are.

I have told Isa, when she's misbehaving, that her attitude is ugly and needs changed. And, then she changes it. We have told her that she is behaving badly, but then she changes her behavior. After each misbehavior, we talk and confirm that we love her, even when she's being naughty or ornery or anything, we will always love her. You also never ever tell a child that your love is dependent on their behavior.

But, what happens when parenting like this doesn't occur? What happens to the kids who are told that they are bad or ugly or stupid? Or to the kids that assume that because their parents are not around or who do not want them or who just do not parent? The kids often struggle more to find their place as a productive member of society. They believe these things, these negative things about themselves and their lives, and they their actions reflect that. Just look at statistics of dropouts and incarcerated young adults...and look at their home lives.

What beliefs about yourself do you need to change?

Birthday Party Procrastination

Generally, I'm on top of the game. I have birthday parties scheduled a month in advance with an awesome list of to do's and games and even a menu planned way ahead of party day. Then, I spend the week or two before the party preparing the games, buying all the necessary trinkets and candies and food items, packing gift bags, etc.

This time, not so much. I'm feeling similar to a chicken with it's head chopped off.

It started when I refused to pick a date for the party. I knew that it had to be somewhere around his birthday, but was more than willing to wait until mid-March if I had to. I am beginning to strongly dislike chaos. But, Jose pushed me to pick a day, so finally, I called the church and asked if tomorrow today was available to use the fellowship hall (we have a large family...and when you add in friends, there is no way everyone would fit in our house. Isa's last birthday had over 50 attendees. Seriously...).

The same day that I reserved the hall, I put up a facebook invite and sent out messages to the invited. Then, I did nothing.

On Wednesday, Teo's actual birthday, Jose struck up the conversation in the car on the way home and asked what the plan was..."What plan?" was my reply. I asked if we could just have people come, eat lunch with us, do the cake and ice cream, open gifts and leave. He told me that I was being lazy.

What games do 2-year-olds play? I don't remember adding games into Isa's parties until at least three. So, in his darling attempt to help, he suggested musical chairs. I retorted that Teo couldn't even get INTO the chairs...so, we agreed to disagree for the time being.

Last night, Jose took Teo to the store and bought the food we needed and didn't already have stocked. Chili dogs, hot dogs, chili, PB&Js, chips, and soda.

Tonight, I finally gave in and agreed to go to the party store, only to find out that their hours Monday - Friday are 9 AM to 5 PM. Seriously? Urg. So, we ended up shopping in a nearby plaza and getting the things for gift bags. And after dropping the kids off to my mom and enjoying a nice dinner just the two of us, we returned home to watch a stupid movie and pack treat bags. Fifty treat bags. Then, when the movie ended, Jose took his place in the kitchen (hehe) and I began to be artsy fartsy. I made a mask for crafts and used my printer to make copies (something that I was extremely grateful for because for Isa's 4th birthday, I hand-drew about 30 monster masks), then painted the board for a game of Pin The Tail.

The craft and the game are on the table, waiting to be taken to the church tomorrow later today after we sleep. Jose has made the PB&Js and is finishing up the cake (photos will come after the party). When we wake up, he will make the rest of the lunch and I am going to beg to run to get a quick haircut. We also need to run somewhere to buy our son his birthday gift (which I have no idea what to buy) and then, we will go to the church and set up everything and just wait for the party to begin.

But for now, I need to write my list of things to do tomorrow, in detail, or else I am sure I will forget:

• Call mom to get hole punch
• Take scissors
• Take crayon box
• Grab yarn
• Take goodie bags, board, tails, mask copies
• Buy gift
• Get haircut (I hope)
• Take all the food
• Grab camera and extra batteries
• Buy forks (everywhere we go, they are sold out of disposable forks...weird!)
• Grab scotch tape
• Buy candles (where do these things go after each birthday?!)
• Pack Isa's stuff (she's going to a slumber party straight from the birthday party)
• Go to church
• Blow up balloons
• Set up games and craft table
• Wait
• Eat
• Have fun
• Spoil my son
• Play games
• Cake
• Open gifts
• Go home and nap

Later ya'll. I need to crash!

My Life Sucks

Seriously. There is so much going on in my every day life that I am entitled to self-pity, right?

Welp, there's a chapter in Father Fiction that focuses entirely on that: Self-Pity.

In it, author Donald Miller speaks to Josh Shipp about his life (he grew up in 20+ foster homes, never knowing his biological family) and asked him how he has been able to become so successful. He replied, "You either get bitter or you get better."

Donald Miller adds, "It's that simple. You either take what has been dealt to you and allow it to make you a better person, or you allow it to tear you down. The choice does not belong to fate; it belongs to you."

I'm not going to state anything profound here: Life sucks. My life has it's craters. Your life has it's volcanoes. His life has tornadoes and her life is full of tsunamis. It's kinda like this video that Pastor Tim shared on Facebook:

Every single one of us has "stuff" in our lives. But what matters is what you do with it.

Donald Miller has a profound, yet simple outlook on self-pity and it's oh, so true. He says, "The reason you sometimes feel sorry for yourself is because it feels so good. I know that sounds odd, but if you think about it, it really does. When I feel sorry for myself, what I'm really saying is that I deserved better, that I am a better person than what the situation has dealt me. And if you think about it, that's kind of an arrogent thing to say...The trouble comes when something hard happens and we chose to stop and milk it for attention. There's no progress in that and it isn't going to get us anywhere."

I get that way. When I dwell, I start to focus on the unfairness. The "oh, poor poor me. My life sucks. I am a good person. I don't deserve this. My husband cheated on me. Some of my friends have hurt me. My family has turned on me. I have an alcoholic dad. My life sucks. I have tried to be kind and loving. I don't hurt people and yet, all this bad stuff rains down on me! Why? It's so unfair. My life is horrible. My life is falling apart. Pay attention to me because I'm complaining. If I can't have a perfect life, at least I can have your attention. I deserve that, at the very least!

But what good does that do? What is accomplished by that?

There is a time to grieve. Grieve for broken marriages. Grieve for death and loss. Grieve for ended friendships and relationships. Grieve for family members and poor decisions and things that hurt you. But grief needs to remain as grief and when it becomes self-pity, you need to have warning flags flying high and them move forward.

I often tell people, when they say sorry for things in my life, that I don't want them to be sorry. I'm not sorry. Seriously, I'm not. It is what it is. When I speak about things, like the affair or my dad or various situations that I'm in, I speak so that I can be a witness to God's glory and grace. God has lifted me up and allowed me to blossom through those messes and He will do that to anyone who asks Him to. I commented to a fellow blogger and said that I was sorry and that I pray that God continues to heal her through her strife and she replied that she wouldn't be who she was had she not endured what she did. It's so true.

Will God change you overnight? No. Will you probably encounter more hurt in order to heal? Yes. But the way I see it is this: Growth is a lifelong process. If I die tomorrow, I want people to say that through all that I endured, I was working to be a strong Christian woman. I don't want them to reflect on how much I whined.

So, does my life suck? Maybe. But it depends on the lens you look at it through. I choose to recognize that I'm human with human interactions and human shortcomings. As a human who falls short, I also have relationships with other humans, who also fall short, and sometimes that hurts me. But it doesn't have to paralyze me. I can (and will) make the best of it.

Will you?

Work: Do It For The Right Reasons

In Father Fiction, the chapter on work ethic has a couple of excellent points that are worth remembering. And, since I'm severely struggling with work this week (with my hours and scheduling: Monday there was a sick Isa, Tuesday was a snow day, I worked Tuesday night and Wednesday, and today, my sitter has pink eye so I have Teo home with me.) So, here ya we go...in a nice bulleted fashion.

• "It isn't about what you don't get done; it about what you do get done."

Ahhh, so my to do list of incomplete items is okay? That the world won't end when I am required to be a mom first? That I can continue next week without feeling like I have failed this week?

Maybe this isn't just about work, but applies to life as a whole. When I die (or when you die) will the memorial and the pastor talk endlessly about my life shortcomings. Could you imagine the memorial service: "We are here to mourn the death, and the life, of Carla Sue. She didn't ever sky dive or bungee jump or white water raft, well, she did white water raft when she was like 12 years old, but not after that. She never climbed Mt. Everest, or any other mountain for that matter. She traveled the nation as a kid, but after becoming an adult and paying her own bills, she became fairy localized." And so forth and so on.

This one point, says so much to me and is something that I need to remain focused on.

• "Work isn't punishment; it's reward."

Ooooohhhh. I grew up listening to my mom and dad and stepdad complain about their jobs. They all worked in jobs that they had to "settle" for due to their circumstances, but when push came to shove, they were content and happy to have jobs, to be able to work, to have the strength and the health. And now, that I'm an adult, I have had to learned similar lessons. However, I have been extra blessed to be able to attend college and obtain a degree to allow me to work in an area that I love, and I have been fortunate enough to land in a job (now) that I am in love with.

But, it's so much more than that. Working is so much more than being able to do it, being capable and healthy. And it leads into the next point:

• "Work exists for a lot of reasons. God worked. he created the earth and the cosmos. We work to participate in the God life, to imitate God. That's also why we take a Sabbath. Work is one of the ways we engage in life, one of the ways we participate. It's important. The Bible says that whatever we do, whatever work we do, we do it unto the Lord, to please Him."

Anything I do, if I do it for selfish reasons,will be wrong. I must work to be selfless. Didja get that? If you work to get recognition or praise, you will be unhappy. The only way to work and be truely happy, is to work for God.

• "It taught me to take great pride in what I do, to offer people more than what they expect, to do work as unto the Lord."

So, is it better to do 50 million things and do them, pardon my language, half-assed, or to do 50 things and do them to the best of your ability and beyond, to go the extra mile to take care of the people you work with and work for. If you are cutting grass and they ask you to just cut the grass, but you notice that a bush really needs trimming and is over running the sidewalk, take a few moments to cut it. Or if you are waiting tables, and the people you are serving are cranky and all you want to do is snap on them, take a few deep breaths and instead yelling, go and be the best damn waiter that you can be. Or, if you are a banker or a lawyer or a warehouse worker or a seamstress or a cashier or a public servant, be sure to smile and do your job the best you can for the people that you encounter. No matter what you do, do it 200% and do it as if you are working for God, not for mankind.

• "Work is worship."

Period. How can you argue against that?

[Side note: If you need to go through and re-read it, go ahead. But, there is not one mention in this entire post about money. Yes, this is a blog post about work and there is nothing about money. You can figure out the importance of that yourself.]

Two Years Ago

On February 23rd, 2009, around 5:55 PM, I was blessed to bring my one and only son into the world. Happy birthday, Mateo Jose.

I love you.

There Are Two Sides To Every Story.

If you listen to one person and assume that they are telling you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth...and you believe them with every ounce of your being, you are naive. Not because you're stupid or because people are not trustworthy (which is an entirely different post), but because quite simply, each and every one of us is biased simply by existing.

I can only tell you one side of the story: my side. And you can only tell me one side of the story: your side.

In a marriage, there are two sides to the story.

In a family dispute, there are multiple sides of the story.

In any circumstance in life, there are hundreds of potential sides of the story (if not more).

No matter what the situation is, it is always important to remember that no one person can tell you the entire story. Only God fully knows. And it is in your best interest to remain objective. No good comes from blindly believing.

Now, more often than not, it's not really important to know the entire story.

If my friend calls me to complain about an arguement with her husband, it's not necessary that I know the full truth. I am being asked to support and listen, not determine the facts.

But, there are some serious situations where it is important to know as many facts as possible. And to know that, even with all those facts, there will be missing information. When it is necessary, do your research. And be prepared for curveballs. They always come flying at you when you least expect it.

I hate feeling so confused sometimes...

My Husband Forgets Things

A few years ago, he began this bad habit of forgetting his cell phone at home when he went to work, causing me to have no way to contact him. This was occurring about two or three times a week. Finally, I told one of his co-workers (and one of my friends) to let him know that the next time that he left his cell phone at home, I was going to shove it so far up his a** that when I called him, his tonsils would vibrate. Needless to say, he seemed to gain the ability to remember his cell phone much better after that.

Then, we began to battle about him leaving diapers on the floor after he changes Teo. When he changes him before bed or first thing in the morning, he would just leave the diaper laying on the rug in Teo's bedroom. I began to threaten that each diaper left would find it's way into his car. He's not great at it, but it's gotten better.

When he takes leftovers to work for lunch, he has this habit of leaving the containers in a plastic bag in his car for a week or so (no matter whether is it 80 degrees outside or not) and then, when he cleans out his car, he leaves the entire bag, with the plastic container and the nasty food inside, on the counter for me to wash when I do the other dishes. After I started gagging after opening one, I have began to threaten that those containers would be placed in his pillowcase, open, if he didn't take care of them. He doesn't wash them, (I think he throws them away) but at least I don't have to either.

Our newest battle is the late night snacks and drinks. He will get a snack and/or something to drink around 9 PM. Then, he fails to put his dishes in the sink when he goes to bed, no matter how many times I remind him. I'm getting tired of telling him to clean up after himself, but don't even have enough creativity to give him a threat. Last night, there was a coffee cup on the table from the coffee that I made him this evening and a open bottle of A&W Root Beer, half full still, tucked carefully between piles of laundry. Both of which I kindly asked him to take care of before he went to bed. I think I need a threat. Any ideas?

And although I didn't think of a creative threat to reinforce his cleaning up after himself, I did make sure to lay out his workshirt for today...with the coffee cup, the open bottle of root beer, and his empty bowl of cereal (which I found next to the chair) sitting on top of it...

Flood.

When it rains, it pours. When it pours, it floods. That's basically where my life has gone....flooded.

I can't even put things together enough to write a coherant blog post...there is so much going on in my mind...so, to spare you all, I'm not even going to try.

Here's just an idea of what I will be explaining in detail at some point of time in the future:

• My dad called, but I didn't accept the call. I need to write him a letter.
• My sister-in-law called and we are going to help her out. We need to re-arrange some things in the house.
• Isa woke up this morning with a 102.7 fever and then threw up. She will be home with me tomorrow.
• Our sleep patterns have been shot to hell this weekend. Friday night, we went to sleep at 2 AM. I got woken up at 5 AM by a phone call requiring me to leave. I returned home and went back to sleep around 11 AM and I slept until about 2 PM. Last night, we didn't fall asleep until 4 AM and woke up around 8 AM, but went back to sleep until about 10 AM when Isa finally woke up. We returned to take a nap around 1 PM and slept until about 5 PM. Now, it's 11 PM and I know I need to go to bed. But my brain seems to think differently.
• My son broke a wine glass that I painted for heARTworks, now, I need to redo it. It pretty much rocked too.
• My home needs some loving attention. The dust on my mantel is high enough that you cannot see the original wood color (mostly thanks to all the sanding that Jose did to the house in January). The laundry pile that needs folded is large enough that an elephant would be scared. The craft room's mess could hide small vehicle. Ugh. I need a maid.

I'm pretty sure that I jinxed myself last week when I stated that I really want a boring life. When I can think straight, I'll fill in some missing pieces...if you pray, please just shoot out some little prayers for our little family. Thank you.

In Father Fiction, there is a chapter on integrity. A very short, yet powerful chapter.

Donald Miller "took advantage" of a salesman's mistake and got a free phone and his father figure mentor, John pointed out that it was wrong. John tells Donald, "The Bible talks about having a calloused heart. That's when sin, after a period of time, has so deceived us we no longer care whether our thoughts and actions are right or wrong. And we have to guard against that."

In college, I was intrigued by the concept of justification. Seriously, before that lesson in my psych class, I'd never heard of it. I had never thought of it. But, of course, I immediately understood what it was all about.

My life has been an interesting mess for quite some time. And I took advantage of the mess when I could. Tell my mom a small white lie so that I could spend an extra half hour at a friends' house instead of returning home, tell another small lie to get a few extra bucks from her to buy cigarettes. Then, they grew a little larger and a little larger. But I justified it. My mom was over protective, and I wasn't hurting anyone. So, soon, I was having boys over to friends houses with no parents, or was walking around town while at my dad's when she thought I was somewhere else. Then, the sneaking to parties, sneaking to get alcohol, sneaking to smoke pot. Somewhere, I crossed the lines from something small and insignificant, to putting myself in some very potentially dangerous situations. And even then, I continued to make stupid choices. On more than one occassion, looking back, I could have been raped or even killed. But, because nothing bad happened, I continued to justify my actions to myself.

My heart grew calloused. It grew hard and I began to struggle to tell the difference between right and wrong, between the truth and lies. At one point, I was so deep in lies that I couldn't even remember what the truth was. In all honesty, I don't even know if my mom knows how I really met Jose (unless she's reading this now!). And when your heart begins to grow hard, you start to lose touch with your faith. You begin to push God away, because, as we all know, you can't lie to God. You can lie to anyone, including yourself, but God knows. God always knows.

Let's Talk Sex

More Father Fiction posting and reflection. This time, a fun topic. Sex.

For the past six weeks, our church has been having a sermon series focused on this very topic. Yes, you read that correctly. For the last six weeks, leading up to a seminar we will be having Saturday, we have been talking about SEX in church!

And, now, with my review of the book, it's a topic again.

Donald Miller writes:

"I think we can think nobody is affected by our actions, by our habits, but they are. We aren't independent creatures, we know. We are all connected. And in a family, in marriage, it's important that sex be something special, and as men, it's important we take the initiative in protecting it."

Sex is a form of communication and bonding between two individuals, ideally in a covenant marriage, and when that becomes tainted, it can affect the entire system to fail if you let it. I learned first hand the effects of this.

However, Donald Miller goes farther when closing the chapter by writing:

"The great arguement, then, is not whether sex is good or bad outside of a relational commitment, but whether sex is for anything other than the release of pleasure. There is no scientific evidence to suggest that sex is for bonding. Common sense tells us sex bonds people, but science can't go into the poetic. The tendency, when pleasure drives logic, is to reduce sex to a dry Darwinian definition, ignoring the poetry of our bodies. And this doesn't sound like much of a crime, until we remember the arguement about the value of a dollar. Poetry, then, matters. What we feel about something, what we agree about for the sake of health and progress, becomes critical. I think of sex this way, not only because this is the way God thinks about sex, but because logically, even apart from some sort of Christian morality, the poetic interpretation has to be upheld."

Anyone who knows any element of my life story knows that I did not wait to have sex until I was married. I was pregnant with Isa when I said "I do." I was fortunate though, because the man who took my virginity is the one that I ended up marrying. I have never had sex with anyone other than Jose.

However, he was not a virgin when we met. He was, in my eyes, an experienced man-skank (sorry honey!) because he had been with more women than I cared to know about and he had lost his virginity about five years earlier, and in many instances, they were girls that he wasn't even in a relationship with. Then, he had his affair to add another name to his list.

The thing is, the act of sex itself was not the part of the affair that bothered me the most, but it was that he chose to do this personal and intimate act with someone other than me, other than the person that he has pledged his life to. And to think that I had to share this "secret" part of our life with someone else is what tore me apart. To think of our sex life (okay, if the blog doesn't have a content warning on it, it will now) and what it was, as Donald Miller says, "poetry" and to think that he shared that with someone else is what hurt. It's vague and very abstract, but it's true.

That's what is so special about sex. It's not the physical actions or the medical definition; there's a *spark* of connection, bonding that cannot be experienced quite the same through other activities. And that is what needs to remain sacred.

I do think that sex is like any other fallen element of life, however, and I don't know that we speak about it much. But if you fail, if you are sinful and have sexual relationships outside of the context that God created sex to be, there is the path of asking for forgiveness, repenting, changing your behaviors. And, the consequences may not disappear, and physically, you will stay the same, but your heart can be changed. God can renew your heart to a place that you are able to use sex within marriage as a beautiful and poetic thing. And, that, is what is the best news possible when talking about sex. God wants us to have a pure and amazing reflection of sex. It does not need to be dirty or gross or emotionally painfully. It was created by Him for a purpose, and He wants us to enjoy it, within the proper contexts.

And so often, it's swept under the rug and locked up in a dark closet. So sex becomes taboo. But it doesn't need to be. It shouldn't be.

What Would You Do?

We don't recieve the newspaper. I have never ordered it because I know that I would not have time to read them, they would pile up and eventually, just be tossed out. However, this morning, as we headed to get the kids to the sitter and school, Isa was overjoyed by the bright orange bag containing the newspaper on our front step.

I just walked over it in my attempt to keep Mateo from jumping in large mud puddles.

But, when I returned home, a line on the front page caught my eye. "How Can People Be So Heartless?" so, I picked it up. I came inside, got comfy and opened it to the article, which I have linked for you here.

Has being a Samaritan fallen by the wayside? The Journal Gazette Fort Wayne, IN

It almost made me cry. Are we so busy that we cannot stop and help a person for a few moments get on their feet? What would I do?

Often, I am the "second guesser" in these situations. I see a car accident, and about a block later, think, "Man, I really should have stopped." But instead, I just call 911. I see a person who is struggling and a few moments later wonder, "Did they need help?" but assume that by the time I would circle around, they would be done, so I continue on.

Has that changed for me? Now that I have a more flexible schedule, would I take a moment to stop. Yes. Probably. I would like to think so, at least.

We like to watch certain shows on television, and one of them had a "What would you do?" type scenerio where there was a person in the park, on the ground sobbing. The biggest measure of if a person would stop or not wasn't their faith or their background, wasn't being male or female, old or young...the biggest measure was if they were on a time constraint. Wow. It is not worth being late for work or an appointment to stop and help another human being.

I am trying to make a stronger effort to be available (however, retain my boundaries that I am building) and to never hesitate to take a few moments of my time to give to someone who is truely in need. For me, that's a really fine line to walk, but I want to walk it.

What do you think of the article? Have you ever been faced with a similar situation? What did you do?

Confessions of a Real Life Mommy #14, 15, & 16

#14. I cannot wait until spring. Not because of the weather, but because Isa is outgrowing her pants and I need her to be able to wear flood pants capri pants without raising questions because I don't want to buy new jeans.

#15. Last Sunday, Jose and I slept in. Isa and Teo woke up and went downstairs to watch a movie. Isa made them cereal and they were quiet. When we began to get ready for church, we figured out why they were so well behaved. There was a trail of Hershey Kiss wrappers that stretched from the foyer (where a bag was located in Isa's backpack from her Valentine's Party at school) all the way through the living room, dining room and kitchen. I believe they ate at least half a bag. I secretly laughed a lot. And deep down, I was still very thankful for being able to sleep past 8 AM.

#16. Also on Sunday, less than an hour of finding out about the Hershey Kiss raid, we grabbed fast food for breakfast on the way to church. Not thinking, Jose ordered three diet sodas. Yes, after our kids ate half a bag of chocolate, we gave them soda. At least it was diet, right? [It was just a rough morning all the way around!]