More Thoughts...

I was thinking today about what I'm going to do next year when Halle goes to school. I have had this thought several times and the thoughts just sort of swirl around landing wherever. I think about what I'm interested in and if I'd want to do that all day, every day. I picked up my paint brushes for the first time in I don't even know how long. And I thought that maybe I should take a drawing class and practice really hard so that I don't have to go sit in a boring office making somebody's copies for them and answer their phone. And decided that I don't have to be the best painter in the world or be in a gallery or sell anything because, well, I just like painting sometimes. I like it when I have paint on my hands. And why does it have to be anything bigger than that? Yes, eventually I will run out of walls to put things on but that day is not today. And I realized that I don't want to do that. I don't want to be a chef and cook for people all day, every day. And I don't want to be a designer either. I don't really want to go to graduate school. And I thought that maybe there is nothing in this whole wide world that I can imagine doing for my whole life. And then I thought 'I want to be a minister of music'.

I should probably have my head examined. But I like leading worship and I like conducting choir rehearsal. But honestly, for the most part I don't really like church. What? I guess I should say that I don't like the church machine. The machine that makes you fit into the mold where you say the right thing (whether or not it's actually the truth) and you wear the right thing and God forbid, you say something that's truthful and challenging because if you do you're going to hear about it on Monday morning in the form of your pastor chewing you out. Because they don't like your hair or your clothes or your face and type A women freak people out. You couldn't possibly be intelligent or have anything meaningful to say so you get relegated to office duties and don't get to visit people in the hospital and pray for them or do anything to help anyone because the fact that you exist just really pisses people off. And instead of someone saying 'hey maybe we should drop our stones and give her a chance' they just keep throwing them. Because you couldn't possibly be human and they couldn't possibly be making your life a living hell. Because there are very few Christians mature enough to say 'You know what? It's not about me. I may not like her leadership style but God placed her here and I'm going to support that'. And the funny thing is that it always surprises me when it happens. And I'll just add that I made mistakes. Which I always say but I'll say it again- I didn't do everything right. But I really, really tried to.

Ministry to me has always been about helping people. Seeing God heal people emotionally, physically and spiritually. And leading worship is the way that God called me to do that. I can't imagine doing anything else and I can't imagine doing it either. My dad worked at the Post Office for his whole career. I don't think that was his calling. My husband works in the computer field but he's a teacher, really. And a song writer. Millions of people do what they have to do and never get the opportunity to fulfill what they're passionate about. I think that I just didn't know it was still there. And I never thought I'd have such disdain for the machine. I've been a follow the rules, that's just the way things are girl for such a long time that I don't even know what to make of it.

So there you have it. A rant whether you were ready for it or not. I guess I have more to sort out. I usually just stuff it down and don't think about it because I'm kind of tired of all that. But for today I will take care of my kids and maybe finish a painting and move on. Except it doesn't feel like I'm moving on, it feels like I'm sitting completely still. Stuck in some prison and for what? I have no idea. I'll get back to that painting though.

So Last Night...

...I sat on the couch watching The Biggest Loser while eating Cappuccino Fudge Blitz ice cream. The real stuff- with sugar- I almost felt bad about it. Almost. I know, I know, but I haven't really had *real* ice cream in months (OK, I had a little bit of vanilla ice cream at Tisra's birthday party). Anyway, it was really, really good. I saw my Dr. this morning as a check up to see how the medicine is doing and I'm doing pretty well, not really losing weight (I swear I hardly ever eat ice cream) but I'm not irritable or depressed, the brain fog is gone and I'm getting sick less often. Overall, it's been pretty successful as far as how I feel. But she upped my dosage to 3 times a day and said that I should really start losing weight. I want to be hopeful about that- really- but I'm just sort of burned out on the whole thing. I'm discouraged about working out because I'll get two really good weeks in before I get sick and stay sick for a month and then I have to start all over. I noticed yesterday that my hand and forearm were sore. I tried to remember what in the world I'd done- then I remembered. I cut up a sweet potato. Seriously? Am I in that bad of shape that cutting a sweet potato strains my muscles. I'm sure that I just need to start and I'll feel better. I'm not getting on the bathroom scale though. Every time I do I get frustrated so I'm not doing it. If my pants get so big that they start falling off I might, but not before then. Sorry, I didn't really mean for this to be a rant.

Speaking of sweet potatoes, I've decided that I love them in fry form. Baked fries of course. I love them best with olive oil and sea salt and that's it. We grilled pork chops for family night on Monday and I made sweet potato fries for me and roasted red potatoes for everybody else. Travis will eat them but the kids won't touch them- too bad, that's more for me! Oh, family night? We have it on Mondays and it involves us eating together, Chloe usually reads a story from her Bible and then we watch a movie or play a game. We've played Scene It, Disney edition the last several times and Chloe and I have won the last 6 games (we play as a team). I actually thought we were going to lose last time and I was happy, until we pulled it out as Travis was two spaces away from the end. But I can't let him win because he'd know and he wouldn't like it. I'm sure as the days get longer we'll take it outside to fly kites and go to the park and such.

I finished the aprons. It took less fixing than I originally thought and I'm pretty pleased with the results. The straps work pretty well and I don't think they'll slip out. They're pretty thick since the fabric is kind of a denim. They're stiff too since I starched them- it will probably help to wash them. I took pictures of the whole process but you guys that sew don't really need to know how to make a strap. I figured out how to do it by watching one of the gals at the last Girls in Stitches get together. That's usually how I figure things out. I should probably visit an art gallery soon to get some inspiration since I haven't been painting at all. Or maybe I'll just keep sewing for a while. I don't mind being a jack-of-all crafts, master of none. I doubt I'll stick with anything forever but it's all fun.

Drat!

We bought the girls bunk beds a few days ago in our very-first-ever-since-we've-been married- for-real-furniture-store-purchase. Wow, that was a mouth full. Since Halle turned four, she has started refusing to sleep in her toddler bed. And I can't say that I blame her since it's just her crib with one side taken off and replaced by a rail. She preferred the floor, saying that it was more comfortable. I'd looked at bunk beds all over figuring that eventually we'd have to buy a set. We settled on a wood set that met Trav's craftsmanship standards (he used to sell furniture) and our price requirements at American Signature Home. It's not the color I wanted (white) but it's a pretty espresso-ish that they call Merlot. That fact is important. Why? Well, because when Travis went to pick it up tonight along with two boxes marked blah, blah, blah Merlot, they put in a box that was marked blah, blah, blah, Sea Island Pine. How can you confuse the two? The Sea Island Pine box wasn't even a bunk bed item. They're bed rails. And I spent hours tearing the girls room apart and taking apart beds so that they could sleep in the new bunk bed tonight. It was going to be a late night anyway, but my parents are coming in town in the morning and things won't be as straightened as I want them to be. And the old beds are partly in the living room and partly in the girls room....my kingdom for a garage! All in all it's a bit frustrating and it puts a crimp in my day with my parents tomorrow. Oh, well, Que sera, sera, right?

Back From the Edge

I'm feeling better today. My emotions are less raw and I'm OK. My grandma passed away the Friday before Thanksgiving so we were able to go to Birmingham this past week. Her death hit me harder than I thought it would. And I'm going to refrain from doing my usual 'but that's OK because she's better off'... or something like that. Death sucks and I miss my grandma. I miss my grandpa too and my maternal grandma that died when I was 16. I've done a lot of soul searching lately and I've come to a few conclusions. During worship this past Sunday, while I was crying about my grandma again, it hit me- I don't have anything to prove. I don't have to be the bestest mom in the whole world (even though I want to be) or the best wife or the most amazing singer or a gourmet chef or anything else that I've taken up. I can just be Amy and do things the way I do them and just be.

The second conclusion came during my shower yesterday. About two months ago I was praying and during that prayer time I was asking the Lord about some things and not really liking the answer I was getting. Then I heard the Lord say very clearly "run it out, finish strong". I was talking to him about our circumstances and he was telling me to finish strong. I was very excited. But in finishing this, in running it out I've realized that I don't have the strength to do it. I'm a strong person, I don't think anyone that knows me would debate that. But what if finishing strong is admitting that you're weak? That you're too weak to keep running and you just can't do it? Yesterday I did admit that I just couldn't do it, that I'm not strong enough and then I saw a picture of Jesus taking me on his back and running the rest of the way for me. Maybe finishing strong is finally letting go and letting Christ be strength for me.

The third conclusion is that I need to rest. I don't mean sleep, I get plenty of that, I mean rest from trials. Will that happen? Yes. I know it will because God has promised a season of rest to my family and I believe Him. Until then I'm doing my best to rest in Him, Matt. 11:28-29 "Come to me, all you who are weary an dburdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." That's the rest I'm talking about and that's what my whole family needs. I can't change my circumstances but I can rest in Him and trust that he's taking care of everything and that every single thing that He's promised to us will come to pass.

The last thing is that I am so very thankful for the amazing people that God has placed in my life. After my first marriage debacle, I begged God to not let me screw up again. It meant 4 straight years of singleness (because some people just shouldn't date) but God gave me the most amazing, wonderful husband that I could ever hope to have. He is my calm head in the storm. He has talked me down from many a ledge and I would not be who I am without him. I have 3 beautiful, amazing, loving daughters. I never could have imagined the joy that they would bring to me or that I could have a wonderful relationship with 3 spunky, fiesty, passionate girls, but I do and I wouldn't trade for anything in this world. I have friends that have been there for me and for us for forever and when I completely lose my cool and need to take a step back they're there for me- even if I don't feel like talking. Yes, I'm talking about you guys. Even if I only know you in bloggy land, I'm still thankful. I'm thankful for my parents and long walks in the woods on Thanksgiving day and for my brother who drove 10 hours each way just to see me and the girls (he didn't say Trav but I'm sure he meant Trav too). Death has been a constant companion in the last year and a half for he and his family so he didn't want to deal with another funeral but he came to Birmingham to be there for us. I'm thankful for my family by marriage that love us so much. And I'm thankful to be in the spot that I am today, tears and all. I'm not the same person that I was when I came here and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

And now I'm going to go make some chocolate milk for my incredibly patient 3 year old. That is what my life is about today and I'm happy with that.

Taking a Step Back

I just wanted to let the people that read my blog know that I'm taking a step back for a while. I'm not going to go into all the reasons or the particulars of what's going on in my life because I'm just not. I find that if you spill your guts in general, people don't really understand unless they've walked in your shoes. It's not that they don't want to but they can't understand. I understand a lot more than I did when we moved here. I can see pain in peoples eyes and the worry behind their furrowed brow even when they're trying to smile and I feel it with them. I think that's a gift that I take away from these last 8 years. I'm not complaining or asking for advice or wanting someone to come up with some magical solution for a very vague thing I'm talking about. We're just in a spot that we won't get out of without divine intervention. I believe in divine intervention but I can't be brave today. I'm sick. Actually I'm possibly more sick than I thought I was. My Dr. thinks I have insulin resistance or diabetes. But I can't find out for sure because I can't take the blood test until I'm not sick and I'm sick for the 4th straight week. It's supposed to not be a big deal. And I was really OK until I read online that stress is one of the causes of insulin resistance. I'm not having a crisis of faith- I've had that already. Years ago when this whole trial by fire thing started, it caused me to question everything I believed. And I found out that what I believed is more of a wishful thinking theology than a Bible inspired one. A theology that says 'because we're Christians we're immune to all of the troubles that the rest of people face and God will work out everything perfectly every-single-time'. Where is the faith building in that? Yes, God did part the Red Sea- but he only did it once. OK, and the Jordan River that time but those were pretty important once in a lifetime type things. But I can't even let myself ask those questions today because I think I'm mad. I'm angry that I'm sick, I'm angry that I'm not stronger. I'm angry that I'm sitting my behind on the couch every-single-day watching life go by and I'm avoiding stress like the plague. My husband can't even talk to me about where we're at because I might get stressed and be sick for longer so he has to shoulder this alone. I can't even pray because it's going to be one of those mad crying prayers and I just can't deal with it. I don't know where I'm at or what the point is. And what I really, really don't want to hear is how I should look on the bright side. After all I have a beautiful family and a wonderful husband that worships the ground I walk on and it's not like my legs have fallen off or anything. Yes, I'm grateful that my legs haven't fallen off. But my biggest peeve when someone is struggling is for the bright side to be pointed out. Yes, there are aspects of my life that are absolutely wonderful. But if I'm not allowed to voice my pain about the aspects that aren't, then it trivializes the hard times that we have gone through and are going through now. I have a beautiful family that I am so incredibly thankful for. I have a husband that in a million years I never thought anyone could love me as much as he does. I didn't even believe in love or trust or happily ever after before I met him. I still don't believe in happily ever after-life is way too real for that. I think God just gives you the grace to walk through it together. Pastor Dale said this past Sunday that we shouldn't pray for an easy life, we should pray for great grace to get through it. I'm not there and I can't pray that today. I'm not being brave or noble or strong. I just need a break. I feel like I'm at the end of myself and I don't know which end is up or what to do. So I'm taking some time off. I'm not going to blog for a while- I don't know how long. Thinking of something witty or interesting or important or creative is just too much right now. If I post something theological and thought provoking it has to be because that's where I'm at. And if I post something creative and cute and home themed, it needs to be because that's where I'm at. I start to feel pressure to write something if I haven't for a few days and I'm letting it go. I still want to read your blogs and know what's happening in your lives I just want to unplug for a while. So, yeah, I guess I'm done.

Focus

I realize that Christy's last post was titled focus but this is a different kind of focus. I'm still sick this has been 3 weeks of the sickest I've been in recent memory. I know I get sick a lot but I had a good run of at least 6 sick free weeks this summer. I'm really over it. Or I want to be over it. The leaves are falling off the trees at an alarming rate and I'm missing it. I just want to walk downtown and get some great pictures of autumn before it's gone and we have 4 long months of no leaves on anything. I also want to make caramel covered apples with the girls. And finish up Kyleigh's presents so I can send them to her (painting is done- I'm the worst sewer on the planet, so blocks aren't done).

My birthday is Wednesday and my husband took the day off and wants to go to the zoo and I want to be able to walk around the zoo without passing out. So I'm focusing. I've been praying and God has been most insistent that I take an opportunity to rest. The last time he was this insistent about something we moved from Birmingham to Nashville in the span of a week- actually it might have been more like two days. Travis got a job and the girls and I left a couple of days later. Anyway, I don't want to have a heart attack or anything so I'm clearing my plate. I'm going to take care of my husband, our daughters and do choir and life group- and that's it. I'm not going to embroider stockings for the two new cats, or my husband or two daughters that I haven't made stockings for. Last year, it was because Halle and Sophie (cat) didn't have stockings and I was trying to save money. Everybody else has a stocking and even though they don't match and I don't like them anymore, they're staying. I'm not crafting any type of present thing for anybody this year. Last year, I worked up until about Dec. 20th trying to get everyone's present done. I didn't spend much time with the girls and missed a big chunk of Chloe's break. We didn't bake cookies until scarily close to Christmas and I didn't finish the presents and ended up buying something anyway.

I am going to (as soon as I'm not sick anymore) take Halle to the park. And we'll walk downtown and look at trees and shops and pick up a hot chocolate from Starbucks. I'm going to ask for help when I need it and quit trying to be super mom. I'm going to quit stressing about every tiny little detail of my life and stop worrying that if I screw up one little thing that God's plan for my life is completely ruined (that's actually a really, really big one. That says something about trust, doesn't it?). I'm going to enjoy this amazing season and not worry about what's around the corner. And I'm going to make this drink. We had a life group get together with our new life group this past Saturday and the hostess made this tea. She served it warm instead of iced and it was amazing. The girls and I will make cookies and I'm going to chill. And that's it.

Milk and Eggs Should be Easy

I've debated on this post for a while. Should I write about how incredibly emotional I am and near a breakdown? Will I regret having that in print? Can I actually get through the typing process without breaking down into sobs and scrapping it all together? I'm not sure. But if you end up reading this post you'll know what I decided.

After my divorce at the ripe old age of 19 (it was final 3 days before my 20th birthday) I decided to take the tough approach to everything. A pick yourself up by your bootstraps sort of thing. I would not be weak, I would not give in, I would do the hard thing, make the difficult decisions, be daring, take risks, grab life by the tail and make it work. And I did. I also became incredibly tough. I really had no sympathy for people that couldn't make things work. I had no use for quitters or people that were weak. Of course, people didn't see me have near breakdowns then either.

This isn't really about that though. I just think that as a result I *always* look for the hard thing to do. I mean, really, if I have two choices I seem to be inexplicably drawn to the one that's hardest. That's probably not completely true. A lot of the hard decisions I made were "God decisions". I knew I was supposed to go to Southeastern. Working my way (with a lot of help from student loans) through was just necessary. Moving away to PC was a calling- with horrifying results- but was part of the "sanding process". Moving to Hendersonville, Birmingham, Hendersonville, Franklin, staying home with the girls when I really "need" to work, all of that were things we felt were the right things to do. Oh, and buying a "fixer" that's two sizes too small for our very first house when we'd never done more than install a ceiling fan into an apartment, yeah that seemed like the right thing too...but in hindsight...maybe. And I don't want to whine, really. I used to whine- a lot- and God put some very patient people in my life to listen to me whine. I wouldn't have been as patient with me and I most certainly would have told me to shut up. But thankfully they didn't. And now I'm tired. Very, very tired. I see a purpose in all of it; I really do. But it feels like I'm nearly purposed into a breakdown. I don't think I should be on the verge of tears all the time.

I know the right answers, Christ is our strength, all things work together for good, be happy when you face trials because the testing of your faith works patience and proves your faith, He will lift us up on wings as eagles, we'll run and not grow weary walk and not faint- when you wait...etc. And I'm not making light of any of that. If I didn't have those promises I would take things into my own hands, get a job, shove the kids in daycare and whip my life into shape. It's what I do. Or did. I don't have permission to do that anymore. It's very difficult for a take charge person to sit back, let everything go and say "OK, God I'm trusting you to do this. I'm not going to try to fix it and you can do whatever you want to". Well, actually I had no trouble telling God that He could do whatever He wanted to because I *assumed* that whatever He did would be instantly wonderful. Then I learned that God isn't in a hurry. And it's been a *long* time. And it's much more difficult at times to say to God "I'm OK with what you're doing right now".

So since I can't change anything, can I at least simplify something? Anything? Please? Well, actually yes, I can. For the last year or more I've been part of a co-op that buys farm fresh milk, eggs, cream and butter. Once a week we all meet at someones house to pick the stuff up and it takes about an hour out of my day. We all take turns driving into the middle of nowhere and pick it up for everyone else and that takes me about 5 hours and a half tank of gas. Why would I do that? Well, because it's all fresh, organic, healthy stuff and I swear I've turned into a hippie. I even make my own kefir. But as I was boohooing to God this past Monday, I found myself saying, "God, I just need some things to be easy". Yes, this from the girl that makes everything difficult. Tthe next day I got an article in the mail (from my M-I-L) about the FDA cracking down on raw milk, with a bunch of unsubstantiated propaganda from the FDA and dairy council (but this isn't a post on debating raw vs pasteurized milk) and while I wasn't instantly converted to the pasteurized side of the fence, it did make me think about how much trouble I'm going through to get raw milk and cage free organic eggs. And I decided to drop it. I'm OK, with it. I hate quitting but I think my stubbornness could kill me. I feel a little less stressed. But I've decided some other things too, it's like a snowball of easyness rolling over me. The cottage cheese ceilings? They're staying and getting a coat of paint. The termite damage? It's getting a coat of drywall mud, then I'll sand and paint. Am I tearing out the wall between the kitchen and living room? It's not likely, unless I have themoney to hire somebody. Will we take out all of the trees and bushes growing in random spots with a hand saw? Nope, we're buying a chainsaw- a cheap chainsaw, but since we'll never need to take out a giant redwood I figure we'll be OK.

If I'd had my way when we first moved in, I'd have torn out everything down to the studs and started over. So I think in a big way it has been a good thing that we haven't had money to renovate right away. If Travis had never worked at Home Depot we would have spent *way* too much money on things we didn't need to(of course it's also meant that we've lived in a house that- to put it nicely is really gross). It hasn't helped my stress level but we've learned a lot of things. And I'd like to be noble and conservative and jump on the "less is more" bandwagon but 1025 sq. ft. is too small for 5 people. I don't really care if they did it in the old days or that families used to live in one room or that they do it in NY city. There's a reason that houses are the size of McMansions now. People were tired of being crammed into a small space with stuff falling on their heads, tripping over the stuff that they didn't have room to put away, and catching their shoulders on doorways when they walk through (I'm always doing that and it makes me really mad). That's also why there are open floor plans- and I'm a big fan of those. But first comes the completion of renovating. We have a few years of renovating ahead of us, unless God has another plan. And it's not nearly as much fun as they make it look on HGTV.

So, I've simplified what I can and I trust that God will accomplish whatever his plans are for us. I could talk about our lack of accomplishing anything significant or not realizing our dreams for ministry but that's another thing that I will most likely not rant about. I shouldn't be frustrated. I think if I could go to a batting cage and knock the heck out of some softballs I would feel much, much better. Milk and eggs should be easy.