And The Stockings Were Hung

Yesterday was super busy. With Little Miss' imminent arrival, we've been trying to get some last minute things done.  So I laid out the drawers for her dresser and finished giving them their second coat.  We opened the mattress and put it in the crib.  The bags for the hospital got packed the night before and placed next to the door, ready for go time.

And then we tackled the biggie...the sitting room.  After cutting the rug pad, measuring everything 10 times to make sure the rug was placed perfectly even on both sides of the fireplace, and laying down the rug (with at one point me lying across one end while he straightened), it was time for furniture.  We live in a row home, with long, narrow levels.  So while our living room is actually quite large and spacious (since it's been modernized...originally it probably would have been a quite small parlor), it's hard to figure out furniture configurations.  What we had originally planned did not work (no way to get to actual sitting space when we tried putting the tree by the window), so in the end we moved the sofa and love seat 3 times.  Oh yes...with G getting a bit testy about me helping though he knew well enough that he couldn't move the sofa without me at least guiding it. 

So the sofas were placed and the tree came downstairs to go up and this monstrosity of amazingness was in place.  I jumped up on the love seat to hang the stockings from the windowsill.  We turned the electric fireplace on for some coziness and it was done.  We headed to bed, tucked under the duvet we brought out for the first time in forever (last year was too warm, surprisingly)....with Max positively pissed when we moved it from being double layered under him (he's a spoiled kitty). 

We put the tree up a bit early (though not October like G wanted) because it takes so much energy...energy we knew we might not have later on.  The garland is still boxed up to be put on the bannister.  Most of the ornaments are still nestled away...though I couldn't help myself this morning and put several of the new ones I've picked up on.  But the room is set for the coffee table to arrive today, and then the insane decorating and baking season will commence.  We're not doing much in the way of gifts for ourselves this year, choosing instead to purchase things for our home we want (how very grown-up of us, we know).  But for our daughter's first Christmas we want her to see the magic of the room lit by a tree with 1400 little lights, casting a glow that says "She's here because He came." 

So for my 21st day of November I am thankful for a God who gave me this little Christmas time miracle, a baby that a year ago I was beginning to accept might not be in the cards for me.  And as she's not even here yet and I cannot imagine losing her, I am thankful for a God who gave us His son as a representation of His love. 

Sanctuary

Last night I attended a service that was similar to Matins, with Psalms being sung by our men's choir.  It was beautiful, with a candle on each side of the altar being extinguished after each section until it was only the Paschal candle left, glowing in the center.  A loud bang, signifying the closing of the tomb.  Silence in the dark.

Tonight I attended Holy Thursday services.  As I carried the oil of the sick to the altar it hit me that this was going to be a long night.....there was incense aplenty.  I think I might possibly be allergic.  I can't even handle much incense in a home environment, but in church it makes me feel like I can't breathe and I spent much of the mass with a handkerchief up that I was breathing through.  Still, it was a beautiful service, with adoration at the convent afterward.

Tomorrow morning I have prayer and then in the afternoon it's Good Friday.  I have a nail, and apparently a role to play.  Wednesday night part of our response included the words "Jesus wept" and it hit me very hard.  The idea of a man who wept, knowing what was to be.  I cannot imagine knowing your whole life that you are to be a sacrifice for people who usually prove unworthy.  But as "God so loved the world" it would be.

Not all was serious though.  I was chastised for not wearing a coat (I feel like I have a dozen grandmothers at church), saying I would catch a cold.  I explained that colds are viral and that I'm a fairly healthy person, but she just shook her head and said, "But you're so pale."  I had to keep myself from laughing....I am pale....it's just the color I came in!  However she is one of my favorites and told me that she can teach me to crochet, so I'm excited.  I signed up for my knitting classes, but they're not til the end of May.

I love this week.  It's such a good time for a last bit of reflection.

Holy Ground

There have been a few times in my life where something has struck me so hard that it has stayed with me.  Where chills have run up and down my body and I feel what I call God speaking to me.  Once was at a worship gathering in college when a guy was speaking and he said something about earning this life we're given.  And it hit me so hard I wanted to go out immediately and tattoo "Earn This" on the inside of my wrist (I'm still considering it....it would be done small enough to be hidden by a bracelet watch for formal events).  And even now when I need the reminder I repeat in my head "Earn this life."

So it's nearly 2:30 a.m. and I can't sleep because I'm on a crazy schedule that seems to be working.  And I'm reading blogs and then I'm reading Katie's blog and I swear if you don't know this blog, you need to because it's a powerful one.  I've read it off an on for nearly 2 years. She's a young woman, no more than 21 living in Uganda doing good works.  She's adopted 14 young girls who she is raising while helping others.  Parts of her story will break you heart.  But I was back reading and she talks about a woman who looks nearly 100 years old who has had much strife in her life, even recently, and that this woman's prayer request was "Whatever he wants." as she chuckled.  She laughed even though there is much adversity.  And Katie says:

"I look at the joy that is spilling out of her wrinkled face and I repeat the words that she has spoken in my head and that doesn't make sense.  She is hurt and she is suffering and she is laughing about it and sparkling with beauty and radiating Joy.  That doesn't make sense.  Not to me.  Not yet.  But she already knows what I am just learning.  That even this, it is from Him.  Even this, it is Holy ground.  This thing that I label suffering, it is really Joy."

And the thing is, I don't have much suffering.  I'm a glass half full sort of girl who tends to forget her worries.  I choose happiness, even when it's difficult.  Not all the time.  Sometimes that is a struggle.  But it's what has kept me going even when it gets rough.  So that didn't hit hard, though I thought it was an excellent point.

It was that suddenly the words Holy Ground stood out to me.  And I got chills.  And before I could stop it the words "My home is Holy ground" popped into my head.  Suddenly it hit me that taking care of my home really is taking care of holy ground.  It's providing a warm and clean and organized place for myself and my husband.  It's creating a place of rest and respite and joy.  It's in taking care of my home that I display that which is most dear to me, my family.  This is what I want to teach our children someday.  That home is sacred.  Home is holy ground.  That God is here. 

So I'm going to paint a piece for our home that says, "This is Holy ground."  Because I need the reminder sometimes.

Preparing for Lent

I've given some thought to what I should give up for Lent.  It needs to be something that is a bit difficult, that perhaps plays too much in your life and distracts you from things.  So, this year I am giving up buying coffee out.  Sure, with my Starbucks card I can get free refills of brewed coffee.  But I have to first spend $1.50 to get that first cup.  And while it may not have seemed like much to me.... it adds up!  We would normally go 3-5 times a week, with two people that was $9-15 a week!

Beside the waste of money, too often we would go to avoid having to work around the house, or because we were bored.  I think when G comes home we'll have a once a week coffee date (because really $3 a week isn't bad, and we are always able to chat better when we don't feel like there are dishes we should do, etc.).  But for this Lenten season I'm saying no to the avoidance and money down the gullet and making my coffee at home.  Even my organic fair trade breakfast blend coffee from Trader Joe's is only about $6 for 14 oz. of beans.  So, since it's just me and I'm less likely to go to coffee by myself I'm estimating I would have only been going about 3 times a week.  So $4 a week is being put into the rice bowl (it's collected and goes to help world hunger.)

I am also trying to cut back on my use of the f-word and will be cutting that out of my frequent vocabulary.  I do not find that there should be a stigma about this word, after all words only have as much power as we give them (and honestly my goal is to cut back so that when I do use it, it has emphasis).  But when we're talking about beginning a family in the next year or two, I certainly don't want my 5 year dropping the f-bomb in Sunday school.  For every time I use it and catch myself (and I know there will be moments I won't), $1 is getting put into the rice bowl.

Obviously during Lent I won't be eating meat on Fridays.  If I manage to pull this off faithfully, it will be the first time ever.  I kinda suck at remembering.  I'm hoping the menu plan helps.  If by chance I forget while, say, out for dinner then I am pledging to pay the cost of the meal into the rice bowl.  Hopefully that will keep me remembering that I can give up my bounty for one night.

I did already forget that on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday I am supposed to fast, with one normal sized meal and if needed two smaller meals (but they shouldn't equal one whole meal).  So, I'm adjusting my planned menu for Wednesday.  Breakfast will be tea and piece of fruit, lunch will be a salad the size of a side salad, and then dinner will be a slice of the goat cheese tart with a small salad.  It's a good reflection for being able to survive off of less.  For me personally it will be nice to focus a little less on food.  

I also want to use this time by doing some things that remind me to focus on the important things in life: God, family, friends, charity.  One thing I plan to do is spend time in prayer each morning, something I too often neglect.  I also plan to make a candle set for the Stations of The Cross.  That way I can focus on why we celebrate Lent, why the church is solemn.  I cannot speak for all Christians because I've not attended every denomination, but for Catholics Easter is a bigger deal to us than Christmas.  We read the Passion of The Christ aloud in church, we darken our church, reminding us of the sacrifice of Jesus, and on Easter we light candles and we celebrate the fact that He rose, not for himself, but to show us that He could, that God sacrificed him for our sake.  That there is a reason. 

Final Thoughts

I am not always sure of my beliefs when it comes to why we're here or my own purpose.  And while I believe heaven sounds like a beautiful place, I still have questions.  But I will say that I do believe in God, firmly.  I find that when I pray in an honest manner (not fancified) it feels like an electric current shuddering through me.  And that my worst moments in life are when I'm so stubborn as to think I can handle everything on my own.  My maman raised me to believe in prayer, but it's only recently that I really have. 

So while I do worry about G, worry about how we'll re-assimilate once he's home (we've heard it can be an adjustment), I have faith that God put us together long before we even realized who the other was.  He grew seeds of love in our hearts.  My trials and tribulations with the men I associated with before I decided to date G affirmed in my mind that though neither of us is perfect, we suit each other perfectly.  I had doubts about marrying a man who so firmly disbelieved in the God who I had trusted when I asked him out (I had many hesitations).  I had friends speak to me about yoking myself with a non-believer.  But I think that because I had my own questions, my own scientific doubts I felt I couldn't judge him for his.  We both promised compromise.  And then while engaged, unbeknown to me, G would get on his knees and pray during the hard moments.  And because he felt a peace, he slowly came of his own accord to believe in God even more firmly than I did. 

So yesterday I placed a family medal over his neck and as we left the house last night I grabbed the bottle of Holy water and I poured some into my left hand.  With my right I made the sign of the cross on him, on his forehead, on his heart.  The rest I sprinkled on him and his bags.  As we drove down the dark highway to an uncertain future I reminded him that if he finds he cannot stand, to simply hit his knees.  And he led us in a prayer at the airport, surrounded by people who do not share our beliefs. 

So I believe that whatever happens has been written long before I ever was created.  And that has brought me so much peace in these uncertain times.  I have the ability to stay positive because I know that no matter what it is not in my hands.  Faith is believing without reason, something I have struggled with my whole life, but something I aim for. 

Falling

I am about to share a painful reality of my life.  I have put off talking about it to anyone for so many reasons, and just recently felt perhaps it was time to face it.  I spoke a bit to my best friend T about it when she was here, but still was in the "It's okay" mode.  But then I went to this amazing conference and it just hit me.  God met me there this weekend and hit me with it hard.  But the beauty is that in the end I felt relief as I collapsed in His arms.  

The reason that G and I do not have children is not that we do not want them.  We do.  Desperately.  No matter how many times I tell you that we are wanting to put them off, don't believe it.  The reality is that we are unsure if we will be able to have them without adoption.  The reality is that what I was wanting to put off was having to truly find out if I am incapable of it.  I thank God every day that since I was very little I have always known I would adopt.  It was a desire given to me from a young age, and it is the one light in the dark tunnel that I face any time I even think about starting a family. 

We have tried.  We didn't do anything to prevent it for a year.  There were normal months when it was clear it hadn't happened, and in the midst of an international move we were able to make excuses.  But then there were the couple times when I was exhausted.  When certain foods just looked wrong to me.  And then I'd be late.  And within a week or so I'd end up with excruciating cramps and (sorry, TMI) bleeding far worse than was normal, enough that once G actually got scared.  I was afraid to call it a miscarriage.  I felt unworthy of getting to use such a big word for something that at the time seemed such a small thing.  We never got the positive, the announcing it with excitement.  We got hope, and then got to watch as the hope slowly slid right through our fingers.  I had always joked that this baby thing would be a piece of cake, that I had "baby making hips." And yet suddenly I felt like a failure of a woman.  

In these dark hours I was unable to really talk to my husband.  And I got angry that he didn't bring it up.  I got angry that I felt I couldn't talk about it.  And I got angry, because I didn't even know what on earth I would say.  "I'm sorry"?  So instead we made excuses.  We were busy.  I'd been stressed.  And then as we began to socialize more we tried to convince ourselves that now simply wasn't a good time, and that we'd put it off longer.  That we were enjoying our freedom, and with big smiles would go out, socialize, snap photos of what a wonderful life we were leading.  Never mind that I often find my eyes trailing after a toddler as they walk or laughing at something a nearby child did. 

We often speak about adoption.  We even went to the introductory class for the foster to adopt program this summer.  Turns out we don't really know enough people in this area well enough that I would have them be a referral for me.  It hit me hard, I was so prepared to welcome a child into our home, and instead I got to welcome in sadness.  We've contacted a couple international adoption agencies.  With G deploying it's all basically inquiries for now, but next year we plan to begin stashing away cash in our Love and Grace account (the name we use for God's money....tithing, and also for the cost of an adoption, something we feel called to).  But we still did not speak about that big pink elephant in the room.

Well Friday I broke down.  I spoke about it briefly to a few people, something that normally would have been incredibly hard suddenly came like a river.  I attended a MOB (Mothers of Boys) meeting with my roomie just to listen to stories.  I explained to one of the leaders that I didn't have any yet, but that our hope is that within the next 2 years we want to adopt a little boy from Africa.  She told me, "Then you're already a mother of a boy".... I cried.  And when I won a coffee cozy, yes, my eyes got wide like a deer in the headlights, I felt guilty for winning, and eventually had to leave.  

I went back to my room, called my husband and let it flow out of me.  I cried hard enough that night that my eyes were swollen the next day (something I can't remember having happened for a decade).  I told him that it wasn't okay.  That I wasn't okay.  That I wanted a little boy who looked just like him, who told long exaggerated stories just like him.  And that not having that was not okay.  I told him I was tired of making excuses and saying that it was okay.  And he agreed.  We spoke like we hadn't been able to for over a year.  I had been trying to be strong, to never cry about it.  God was in that hotel room with me, allowing me to fall apart because it was what I needed. 

So what now?  Now we talk.  Now we make an appointment with a doctor to check me out.  Now we pray.  I didn't want to talk about it, because I know worse stories and I felt unworthy of my own heartache.  I felt it was so small compared to the troubles I know others have and  I didn't want pity.  But I will take prayers.  Not just that it will be possible, but for strength if it is not. 

Not What I Expected

The Relevant Conference can be broken down into three parts for myself.  

First, joy.  I immediately met many amazing women.  I heard words of encouragement.  I even won something from DaySpring.  I was filled with joy as I waited for what the rest of the weekend would bring.

Second came tears.  Something hit me early on Friday and I spent most of the day crying off and on.  I will share some of it in a later post.  However I can tell you that I had been pretending I didn't mind that G is deploying next year (I had, after all, encouraged him to go).  But I already missed him, missed talking to him, missed sharing all the wonderful things going on with him.....and we had been apart less than a day.  Six months?  No way.  And the fact that it isn't a choice made it even more difficult as I came to terms with how hard it is going to be.  There is no asking him not to go.  The day just kept getting better and better (please note the sarcasm).  The conference did get better and better, but my day kept going down hill as one thing after another left my eyes red.  Nothing bad, just things I really tend to avoid thinking about--- a difficult task when God is so present and telling you it's time to face them.  

And then came hope.  Hope that I can make this blog what I want.  Hope that my marriage is going to be fine as we learn to communicate better.  Hope that I was going to be okay no matter what storm came.  We ended the conference in celebration, long talks late into the night, and hope for the future.

I needed this.  I so, so needed this.  I needed a weekend away.  But more than anything I needed to really connect with women who see the world so similarly.  Women who can be kinda crunchy.  Women who love being women.  Women who struggle.  Women who daily try to remember to lay those struggles at the feet of God and stop being so hard on ourselves.  The last night we listened to a phenomenal speaker, Ann Voskamp, and when she mentioned her husband saying something to her about a nasty case of perfectionism I knew what it meant.  I, too, struggle with trying to have everything together and mentally beating myself up because of my life's mess.  I needed to hear the words from these amazing women.  I needed time in a place filled with God. 

I wrote this post in my head after hearing Ann that last night.  I had fought a headache as I tried to stay through her talk.  After I went back and took a scalding hot shower, something I rarely do.  I remember thinking, "This is bad for my skin, but good for my soul."  That hot shower was the physical manifestation of my weekend.  Something painful that led to goodness.  I got out of that shower, went and sang, went and spoke to others who like me needed this. 

I am so glad I went.  I learned less about blogging that I thought I would (due partially to my missing a couple sessions to connect with other women) but more about my life.  Hopefully there will be a Relevant11.  I think a yearly break to focus less on life, more inwardly is a great thing.  And the coming home made me even more glad as I greeted G with a smile, grabbed his hand and felt His hand in my hope. 

Mass

Garret and I attended mass at a new church yesterday.  It's a church that we saw every time we attended the old one, and kept saying we should try it out.  So, though G nearly decided to head to Artscape instead of mass I chose mass (which surprised him). 

Things I loved: 

* The stained glass allowed a lot of streaming light in.  The faces all looked mad, but eh, the light was pretty.

* The woman in front of me near the end rubbed some lotion into her hands.  It had the double C's.  I thought it was a nice nudge from God.  (this lady and her husband were older, well dressed, and incredibly nice)

* The assistant priest has an island accent that is melodious.

* The woman singing sang beautifully.  This is a rarity indeed.

Things I need to remember:

* The benches have an angle that had my tailbone in agony for the rest of the day.  

* Money!  Seriously, I'm embarrassed to say that we completely forgot our tithing.  We'll put it in with next week's.  Sometimes I forget that God doesn't ask, "debit or credit?"

The best part about this church was the eucharist (communion).  G and I have gone to 4 different Catholic churches since moving here.  At nary a single mass did we receive full communion with both the body and blood.  None of them had wine!  At our favorite church we expect it is due to lack of funds, but at the other 2 we went to before yesterday, they both documented huge amounts of income.  At one we asked and the priest very snottily told us they didn't have enough eucharistic ministers so they only served it at the 10:30 mass.  Mind you, this was the church that had 5 English masses and 1 Spanish one each weekend.  They had so many people that no matter what mass we attended it was packed.  So perhaps the priest should remember that part of his job is to get his parishioners involved.  

But anyway, yesterday I noticed a golden chalice and two pewter looking ones with it.  I kept my fingers crossed and success!  We had wine!  I know it is hard to understand if you are not Catholic.  In fact, since all of my Christian friends are protestant (including my family) even they don't seem to understand.  But for me and G, having the full communion is important.  I know by church doctrine it's recommended, but not required.  Technically you can count it as communion even if there is no wine.  However, for me it always feels incomplete, as if something is missing.  I prayed hard yesterday when first arriving at the church for God to show us where we should be.  The full Eucharist really made us feel that this church is a good choice.  It also has a school attached, which will come in handy later. 

So we're both praying that this church continues to feel right.  It's been a long time since we felt that a church had everything we were looking for. 

Musings On Islam

I was watching something on the middle east earlier today when it struck me that the idea of a call to prayer really is pretty smart.  I know that I myself struggle to set aside time to pray regularly outside of meals.  G and I were discussing over dinner how time in the morning, midmorning, midday, later afternoon and night would be great times to set aside just to pray for help with something, to praise good things that had happened thus far, and to have a bit of calm.  There are days when I pray randomly throughout the day, and I don't believe that prayer necessarily needs to be a formal thing.  I think quiet reflection works best for me.  And it can be as casual as, "Thank you God for the beautiful sky we had today, it had me in awe."  (a common thought of mine....I love clouds)

I'm looking forward to trying this out.  Five times a day may end up being too much, and a simple morning time and night time session might be perfect.  As I continue to work on me, and G and I continue to work on us, I think this will only help!

Thought Provoking

Sarah Mae just posted today (technically yesterday) about being imperfect.  It was a simple, to the point and beautiful post.  I highly recommend it, and wanted to talk about it a bit.  

"He loves me through the failure, because He already knew about my dark, selfish soul when He died for it."

I commented and then thought, I need to share here.  I am imperfect by far.  I struggle in being tolerant, of having patience, of being a good friend and wife. (and the list goes on)  Every day.  It's something I tried so long to hide, because that was how I felt things were done.  I didn't want to be a martyr.  I didn't want to fail.  I wanted it to look like my life was so together.  


But it wasn't.  


It still isn't.  


I have days where I yell and then apologize.  I have days where I don't get anything done I needed done.  I have days lately that find me on my knees crying out for some relief.  


My faith took a huge hit with my marital problems.  But the time things changed?  Last week I literally hit my knees sobbing and praying.  And suddenly there was a turn around.  As if a miracle had occurred within a day or so my heart was perfectly calm and my husband was aiming to do better as a husband, as a friend.


We were saved.  And though there will be rough patches, my knees will be hitting the ground through them.  Because when I try to be perfect, when I try to fix things, I fail.  Every time.


But He never does. 

Blessed!

Today I am super blessed.  And yes, I've reverted to hyper valley girl speech.  Whatever.  (teehee!)


I have a husband who is making real efforts with me and our marriage, which in turn is making me a very happy loving wife.  Win win!


I have a maman who is super excited to see me this week, even though she is crazy busy.  I'm flying home for 1 week, which will probably seem to fly by.  I haven't seen these great people in months, how on earth did I do years of not seeing them? 


I have friends back home who rock and I am thrilled to get to hang out with them and just relax a bit. 


I have some pretty great friends here too who remind me that I don't have to be anyone but who I am.  


It's Mexi-monday and I'm thinking of trying to convince G to skip it and just grab some soup and coffee with me.  Then pick up things tomorrow for a Mexican dinner tomorrow night at home.  That way we can drink tequila and he'll have leftovers for a couple days of food he loves!


I have a niece who is almost walking who I will be coaching this weekend.  Hopefully we'll get her up and running!  (she walks on her toes like me) 


I am at peace.  Calm.  Even G has noticed and commented that in general (not just with him) I'm suddenly calmer.  I don't know why.  I woke up one morning recently and my heart just felt at peace with life.  And for that I am praising God, to whom I have been praying about all of this for so long.

Reconciliation

On Wednesday night, G and I headed to happy hour at Chili's.  We still had a little left on a gift card from Christmas (did I mention my 18 year old brother gave us each a $25 gift card to Chili's?  He rocks, but I'll save that for another post soon when I'm blubbering that he's graduating high school).  So off we headed and I ended up having 3 margaritas, to G's 2.  It was quite funny since I hadn't eaten more than an apple that day, the first one hit me like I was a lightweight, but after we ate some chips and salsa (of which I was horribly disappointed, now having made The Pioneer Woman's version, this doesn't seem as good), and hot wings I couldn't feel the alcohol so much.  I used to hate hot wings, the messiness of them, I would absolutely refuse to eat them.  Now, I daintily pick them apart with my fingers and a fork, because I'm still not into the attack like a savage beast with my teeth part.  Eh.


Did I mention we were drinking margaritas before going to confession?  Oh, I didn't?  Dang.

So we arrive at church.  G was confirmed a year ago, but with the move from England, the move here and trying to find a church that works for us, he hadn't gone to his first confession.  He was a bit nervous, but the Monsignor that he went to said he gave a "beautiful first confession."  He was told (ha!) that he needed to remember to make me the most important thing in his life, except for of course God (but something about how God flows into me and vice versa).  Overall, I think he's much calmer about reconciliation now.

I, on the other hand, had not been in 7 years since my first confession.  I kid you not, the first time scarred me so badly I haven't been back.  (My first time was with a priest who looked like Santa Claus, had the most piercing blue eyes and it was a face to face confession.  This was before I had had sex, so it wasn't a big deal, but it terrified me.)  But I walked in, shaking like a leaf.  I mean, 7 years of sinning, some I haven't even been brave enough to discuss on here, but we're talking doozies!  So I say out loud a few big ones, expecting holy water to be thrown on me at any minute.  Then I sit back, and there is nothing but silence.  Great.  I gave the guy a heart attack.  After 30 seconds (which seemed like 10 minutes) of silence he asks me if that's all.  Um, thanks?  (what?  I mean, sure it's been 7 years Father, but I figured I'd save you time and just confess the big ones that could have me spending eons in purgatory to repent!)  He welcomed me back to the sacrament, then said some words, gave me penance and I recited a prayer.  Let's just say I had a wee bit more penance than G, but even after confessing my lack of submission and that I take out my frustration by yelling at my husband, I didn't have anything mentioned about it.  (I like to think it's because I rock, but in reality, he was a younger priest, maybe he didn't understand what to say to a wife, having none himself.  Who knows?)


So, all in all, not too bad.  We are planning on going again soon, if I stay here.  If I end up leaving for a bit, I'm hoping G continues to go, I think he found some peace in it.  I apparently need to come up with more to confess (but don't worry, both of us forgot about gossip)!


*take a look at the labels, the two combined made me giggle!*

Praying

Lately I've been putting a lot of trust in God, and giving things up to Him.  I've learned the hard way that my way doesn't work.  That the plans I made can crumble easily.  That the things I wanted turned out not the be the things I needed.  I don't want this to turn into a sanctimonious blog, since that isn't me and it wouldn't be authentic.  I am a Christian, but this blog is not a religious blog.  However occasionally I will be sharing things I (and G) have been praying about, and for those of you who pray, please feel free to add these to your list!


The beautiful Bobbi of When Did I Go From a Kid To A Grown Up  is dealing with the loss of her 2nd child at 13 weeks.  I am praying that she finds peace in the way she is handling it, and for when it is God's time that she will conceive again and give the adorable Ian a younger sibling.


My oldest brother who acting like a fool right now.  I love him, but really don't like him right now, and I am praying that within time he will see what a mess he has made and work hard to turn his life around.


For my Grandmama who is hopefully getting better as they try and find the right medications for her Parkinson's.  I have spent many hours on my knees this past year praying that we will all be okay, no matter what outcome there is.  


For my marriage, that Garret and I become stronger with our faith and beliefs.  We are both working hard to make our marriage the marriage it was always supposed to be.


I am also praying hard about the Relevant Conference.  My biggest fear is that I will stick out like a sore thumb and feel awkward.  I also am worried what will happen if my marriage fails, to sign up for something in the fall is taking a leap of faith that I am struggling with.  


That if (when) I sign up for the conference that I am able to find a few other women to room with to help with the cost of the hotel.  


I am also praising Him for the beautiful weather we have been having lately, the signs of Spring, the good friends and family I have.


Today we also did something I think might seem odd, but we prayed for those over in the Middle East.  Not our men, but the men we are fighting.  That they would quit fighting and return to the families that love them.  That they would find peace in their hearts.  It's something I urge other military wives (or anyone) to do, since a problem needs to be healed from both sides. 

My Life Is Madness

So last night was Ash Wednesday.  Our priest gave a beautiful sermon about the prayers in our hearts.  That perhaps we're thinking "I'm tired" or "I'm mad because of this."  That those are prayers, and that God is listening.  And it hit home.  Because last night I was tired.  I was mad.  I was just utterly exhausted, and it just got worse as the evening progressed.


After mass G and I made our way to the diner (yes, it's a long drive from our church, but it's become our place).  We enjoyed dinner (an egg sandwich for G and a salad for moi.....with a big ol' piece of coconut cake and coffee!).  We were just sitting there drinking coffee and talking.  A couple walked in from the bar next door, and she was plastered.  I mean, literally fall over drunk.  In the end she threw up in their booth and then as they were trying to get her to leave things went really, really wrong.  She turned to pull herself up from the booth (they were behind us) and instead decided to grab handfuls of my hair with both hands!  She began screaming and yanking on my hair (my scalp hurt for hours afterwards), the women pulled her off of me, and thank goodness, because G had already jumped up and was going to smack her if she didn't let go.  I sat there for a few seconds, gathering my thoughts and then looked at G and said I need to go for a sec and walked off to the bathroom.  I was shaking so badly, not from fear but anger.  So I took myself away from the situation.  It's probably a good thing I didn't look at her when I walked back.....apparently she stuck her tongue out at G, and had I seen that I would have hit her.  


You see, I have a temper.  One that has flared up more lately.  It used to be I screamed, then I moved onto throwing things.  And I knew in that moment that if I allowed myself to hit her I would have landed her in the hospital.  Because it would have escalated, she was beyond trashed and petite, and I would have beat her senseless.  And while I seriously think she might need a beating (she was yelling things at me as she left, with her boyfriend continually apologizing) I don't want to kill someone.  And my rage would have come close.  My brother when I texted him said, "You didn't slap the bitch?  Epic fail."  But I made the decision to be lenient and let it go.  She was trashed, and I am going to assume this was not ordinary behavior for her.  It was shocking to me because I've always been the type who was cool and collected enough that people didn't screw with me.  I have a look I give and that tends to stop people in their track.  But I also know when someone is outta their mind drunk they sometimes don't even know why they did something.  And I am too pretty for prison.  


However, she's dating the bartenders nephew, so I might need to tell her that if I see the girl again and she makes any move towards me I will end her.  My patience is only good one time.  

Here I was, just drinking my coffee.  I was checking blogs, and something slammed into me like a ton of bricks.  No more rambling, I am suddenly insanely focused on the screen in front of me.  Lovelyn just returned from Uganda.  Her beautiful family is in the process of adopting from there.  And while they feel called to adopt 2, so far they have found one little boy, Clayton, who they are hoping to bring home in November.  We are praying for their family that he comes home so soon.  What a thing to be grateful for this Thanksgiving.

I have always known I was meant to adopt.  I have been playing at it since I was 4.  To me, a family is not just you give birth to, but those you choose, or who choose you.  I have never kept this from G, and in fact he's always been supportive.  But this past year, he's been as eager about it as I am.  We've gotten some weird looks when we talk about it, and generally nosiness about whether or not we can have our own.  As if adopting a child isn't the same.  As if they aren't "your own".  Well, we've never really tried, but as far as we know, yes the parts work, thanks for asking.  We're uncertain of when the time will be right for us.  There are so many ways to go about it, and we are deciding whether to adopt before trying for a pregnancy.  But it's there, and lately I have come across more and more reminders, little nudges on my heart.  And I'm listening God, I am.  With every little child out there who has no family of their own I see Your face, I hear what You have called upon me for.  Feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and love all those you meet.  

My heart goes out to this family.  They have 4 beautiful girls, and they are adding in a wonderful little boy who has cheeks that just induce the ache to pinch!  Seriously, go watch the video.  I love that she talks about how she was led to this boy, that her heart knows him.  I truly believe that God placed this boy on her heart long before she met him.  And her family will be so blessed by him.  

So, deep moment.  Now I will resume my too much coffee, lack of sleep rambling.  But please, do go watch the video, read about their journey.