I'll never be the same

If someone would have told me 5 years ago that I would be hanging out with these people, I would have looked them in the eye and told them they were crazy. There was no way I would be be friends with them. Never. 5 years ago, I had an almost 5 year old and and a 3 year old. This group was so far from my comfort zone, there was no possible way that I would have anything in common with them. And if I were to be honest, they scared the crap out of me. I was so intimidated by them it was almost ridiculous.

God had other plans, and it seems as though those 4 words are the theme of my life. God always has other plans than the ones I have for myself. You would think by now I would just realize that. Anything that I may have planned is pretty much going to go out the window.

Anyway, back to these people. So, I started to hang out with this group, although I was so incredibly nervous. Would they like me? Would they care if I was even there? Do I really belong? Even though it went against everything that I knew of myself, I felt as though this was where I belonged. It was almost like I was going home. It was weird.

So, the last 4 years of my life, I have been consumed with hanging with these people. And you know what? They have taught me so much. Here, I was thinking that I would have something to teach them. I would tell them about life. I would be the one giving. Boy, was I was wrong.

Let me tell you about these people. They are fun. They are crazy. They are some of my best friends. They are the most loving, caring, humorous, life loving, life giving people I have ever met. This group of individuals genuinely love each other and build each other up. They genuinely love me and continually build me up as well. They are all individuals. They all offer different things to the group. They all have different gifts and different interests... but somehow, they all mesh together making one family. I can be honest with them and know that they won't walk out on me. I can be completely myself, insane and goofy, and I know that they won't judge. They'd probably join in.

I think about these people all the time. And I truly mean all of the time. If there is an hour that goes by without thinking of at least one them, I'd be surprise. These kids have changed my life. They've changed what I think. They've challenged me and they've accepted me into their family. They accept my imperfections.

I love these people. And knowing them has made me a better person. It has made me a better mother. It has made me a better friend. And because of these people, I will never be the same.

Loving You.

Disappointment has been a visitor in my life recently, and although I hate to succumb to disappointment, I did. While I was being angry and hurt at the people who let me down, I started to think about my life and how I impact others. I wondered why was I so disappointed? Why was I hurt that these people didn't live up to my expectations? Did they know what standard they were being held to? Am I any better than them?

I began to wonder how many times I was the one who disappointed. How many people have I hurt because I failed them?

I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

As I pondered what kind of impact I have in other lives, I began to think about what impact I want to have. I want everyone who I come in contact with to know love. I want them to know what it feels to be loved and to know that it is an honest love. I want to love like Jesus loves... uninhibited, unfailing, unabashed love.

If I tell you that I love you, I mean it. I mean it with all of my heart. I may make mistakes and I will let you down. I don't do this on purpose, but I will do it because I am imperfect... and human. But know that I truly love you.

I don't know if this is a cohesive thought. Probably not. I'm good at thinking things through and being completely unable to put it into words. I'm not eloquent. I can't write.

But I can love you.

Red Lipstick

I'm missing my Gram today.

I grew up in a suburban town in New Jersey. My house wasn't anything special to an outsider, but to me, it was my world. In this little house lived my mom, my dad, my little brother, whatever animal we had and my maternal grandmother. My Gram was my world. Many of my childhood memories involve my grandmother. I spent a lot of time with her. We would go on walks together. While we were on these walks she'd sing to me about "reading and writing and 'rithmetic. She would tell me about the plants around us and how she used them to play when she was a child. She would walk up to the 7-Eleven on a Saturday and pick up some Drake's Coffee Cakes and chocolate milk for breakfast and it would be there when I woke up. On a Sunday after church, I would "drive" her home. I would sit in the front seat and pretend to drive as she drove our way home through the countryside. She would always have Juicy Fruit gum in her "pocketbook".

My Gram smelled of Chantilly. She wore red lipstick and rouge.

She wore clothes that were way out of style, but she didn't care... she was who she was and made no apologies. She was ecentric. She was a potter, a seamstress, a painter, a beautician, a masseuse, a dreamer. She would massage my feet with Pond's Cold Cream and tell me to wear socks so it didn't get on the carpet.

I loved my Gram very much.

Sometimes my mom tells me "You're just like your grandmother."

I smile.

I love when she says that.

silence is... weird.

It's been a really long time since I sat here and wrote. I don't know why it's been so long... I guess i didn't have anything to say.

Ok, stop laughing and pick yourself up off the floor. Yes, i realize that it's a rarity that I have nothing to say, but I truly think I didn't have anything to say. I still don't, but I'm writing to let the world know that I am still kicking.

The last note I wrote saw me in some troublesome times. I am happy to report that things are not so dire right now. They're still not great, but they are better, and for that I am thankful.

Life is about to get crazy around here. Outage season is upon us and Mike is starting is dumb hours tomorrow. I am trying to stay optimistic, but this time of the year always sends me into a bad place. So, even though I don't have anything to say today, I guarantee that I will have plenty to say in the coming weeks. Luck you. :)

Mission Impossible... Joy in Everything

Blessed be your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be your name.

These are the words that I sang yesterday morning in church. These are the words that I've sung a hundred times without thinking twice. Except yesterday. Yesterday was different.

At Harvey Cedars this summer, we were told to have joy in everything. Really? Do I have to? Joy... in everything. That's a hard pill to swallow.

Joy in everything....

Things are rough in our house. We are going through a major trial which has definitely rocked our world. It's something so huge, that I really have a hard time wrapping my head around. I just cry instead. I cry and want to vomit. I have been so sick over this whole situation. Mike and I have recently said that if we were some ordinary couple and didn't have the love that we do, we would definitely be a divorce statistic. BUT, we do love each other and we have chosen a life together... rocky roads and all. I am so thankful for my husband. I am so thankful for his love. I am so thankful to our God for placing us together. No one could be a better match for me.

Have joy in everything.

Anyway, how do I have joy in the biggest trial? How do I have joy when I feel like our world is crashing down around us? How do I have joy when I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop? How do I have joy when I'm not sure if I have any joy left?

I'm struggling with having joy... and praising my God with all my heart, my soul, my mind and my strength. But yet, I seem to have a smidgen of joy. It definitely is not with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength... but it's there. It's a twinkle of joy. But I'm taking it and running. I have to. I have to take what little joy I can find and rely upon my Lord that He will take care of us. He will provide for us.

Deep down, I know this. Trying to live it is another thing. Trying to live joy in the midst of a trial is hard. Really hard.

But we have to do it. We have no choice. We will have joy. We will rejoice in the Lord... knowing that He knows what we need and will not give us more than we can handle.

He must have a lot of faith in us.

LOST

If you happen to stumble over the 10 POUNDS that I have now lost, please pick it up, set it on fire, and punt it across the country, never to be seen again.

Thank you.

YAY me!

Thank you, Capt. Obvious

It's no big secret that I have issues with my weight. It's no big secret that I'm not a size 0. Or 2. or 4. Or 6, for that matter. I never have been. Even at my smallest, I have always been a bigger size and weighed more because of the way my body is built. I have no hope of being a frail tiny little girl. I'm built like a linebacker. I'm not delicate. I'm a log... with boobs. And for the most part, I have accepted that I am not ever going to be a runway model. I like that I have an athletic build. I just wish it was more toned... less flabby.

I'm blessed to be surrounded by friends who love me the way I am and who choose to be my friend even if I don't fit into a size 4. I love my friends because they struggle with similar issues or they're own body image issues and we can talk about big butts and big thighs. We can talk about the fact that I can't see my torso right above my stomach without looking into a mirror because my boobs are too big and I can't see past the shelf. I surround myself with these girls because they make me feel beautiful (when, in fact, I know that I am not... most days. It's amazing what I can do with make-up though).

So, even though I have these girls and I am not frail on the outside, I'm still frail on the inside. I'm trying to be stronger, and was doing fairly well, until this afternoon. And honestly, I thought I was ok, until my husband came in and looked at me. He knew that I wasn't going to be ok after what happened. He knew that those few seconds of a conversation had rocked my world and had broken every little piece of self respect and what little positive self image I had. He knows me so well... sometimes better than I know myself.

I'm sure it was an innocent comment. But it stung. It stung and burned right to my very core. It took every bit of pride that I had gained after losing my 7 pounds and buried it. And it makes me mad that someone's inconsiderate comment can do that to me.

This afternoon, we were revamping our life insurance. We were adjusting our coverage to better fit our needs. It was so simple. A click here. A check mark there. A question here. A question there. And it was those questions that got the ball rolling. The question posed to me was "How much do you weigh?".

Really?

I looked at him. He looked back. And I answered. "A lot." He laughed, and said that it won't accept "a lot". So I told him my weight (minus 2 pounds... I had to give him a nice round number).

He looked at me and said "Come on, that's not what you weigh. Are you serious?"

Um, yeah. If I was going to make up a number, don't you think it would be a more flattering number?????

He continued to look at me and said "You don't look that big".

Seriously? I don't look that big?

Oh, why thank you! Thank you for telling me that I don't look as fat as one would think of someone who tipped the scales at what I do. Thank you for not making me feel like a gigantic whale. Thank you for not making me feel as though I should be thankful that I don't break chairs when I sit in them. Thank you for not making me self conscious of what I'm making for dinner tonight. Can't put on any extra pounds, now.

I hate that this person said these things and doesn't know how much this hurt. I hate that a comment like that can make me feel like it does. I hate that I have to see this person every week. I hate that I'm not a number on the scale that is more realistic to expectations. I hate that I weigh what an average adult male would weigh. I hate that I'm not a size 4. And I hate the fact that I hate that I'm not a size 4.