Forty-Five

Forty-five years ago, in a small ceremony in my parents' backyard, I said "I do" because I couldn't bear to part with my unborn child. (So much is said of the woman who "trapped" the guy, but I was the one caught in a trap.) In 1981 "Christian" girls didn't birth and keep children born out of wedlock. They either quietly terminated a pregnancy, or disappeared for a few months and secretly released their child into the arms of complete strangers. I took what felt like the "easy path," although it was far from simple or painless. I gave up my childhood sweetheart, high school graduation, college, and my reputation. Maybe he felt trapped too, but he had been taken in a snare of his own making, one which he would bemoan on and off throughout the years. I was caught because there was little room for escape and only two choices, marry him or sacrifice my child. I don't say it to make anyone sorry. It is what it is, and I loved him deeply for many, many years. On the outside it looked as though we'd made it, and most days I sincerely believed it myself. I put every ounce of energy into making it so, but grasping the wind or holding water in one's hands is impossible...

Sometimes the broken cannot be repaired or reconciled no matter how much we wish it to be so. Sometimes a break is desperately needed. Even life saving surgeries do not come without pain. Open wounds heal with time. Broken bones mend. Scars, numb and tender all at once, remain. Divorce, even necessary ones, leave scars.

Today, instead of a wedding anniversary, my kids and I will celebrate, in our traditional manner, the birth of my fifth child. There will be love, laughter, and strawberry shortcake. (He turned 36 yesterday.) I have wiped away the tears, gently soothed the ache inside, and counted not the losses, but the blessings. He is just one of many.

What Are You Doing Here?

 "What are you doing here?" That's what they ask when they see me in the Penfield Dunkin instead of Webster. "Are you here all the time?" and I tell them I transferred because I wasn't getting enough hours at the other location. My hours had been slashed from 37 1/2 a week down to less than 20, and sometimes closer to 10. It wasn't sustainable. No matter how much I liked the customers and the location, I couldn't stay there. I smile every time one of my old customers comes in. It's nice to know I was making a difference.

Of course, there are cantankerous customers... Like my "not so" favorite one who never fails to tell my coworkers how bad I am at the job and shouldn't be working there. LOL! I'm not sure what her problem is, and although she causes my blood pressure to rise slightly so that I avoid her if at all possible, I still find her grouchy, grudge bearing, grumpiness somewhat amusing in a sad sort of way. 

And then there is Penfield Dunkin's own regular "no so easy to get along with" everyday customer. Today she returned to the counter and informed me she wanted "two shots." Her normal order is an easy extra large with cream, but she'd already taken that to her table. I hadn't a clue what she was talking about. "Two shots of espresso?" I asked her, and she rolled her eyes as if I was the stupidest thing on two legs, mumbled something almost incoherent, and turned to one of my coworkers. Ha ha! She wanted two creams in a separate cup, but it could have been "two shots" of anything. We certainly have plenty of choices.

Yesterday was my birthday. I went out to breakfast with my friend Ruth, and in the afternoon my kids threw me a fabulous party complete with Rueben sandwiches and cake. Such fun! I'm still counting down and had a wonderful cake to show it. Ha ha!

Crossing Over

It was an entirely emotional weekend. Unexpected tears flowed randomly throughout. Mostly I am sad, both for my friend and her family, and for the brokenness that always comes with the passing of someone dear. I've heard in the past that if our loved one is in heaven, then we are sad for ourselves, but I believe there is a deeper pain. As another preacher said, "We weren't created with a file folder for death." When our people die, a piece of us goes along with them; all our conversations, our memories together, our sense of connection... Tears are the healing balm.

As I sat in the funeral home waiting for the service to begin, I was touched on the shoulder. I turned to see a man standing next to me. "Hi, Lady," he said. I had to stand up to recognize the pastor of my previous church fellowship, the one I left when I moved off the farm and away from The Cabinetmaker. As neighbor of my friend, he had been asked to lead the service. The presence of both him and his wife, as well as our conversation following, opened a whole other torrent of emotion.

My ex husband and our separation came up in conversation. "Would you consider reconciliation? (with the Cabinetmaker)," they asked me, to which I answered, "What exactly does 'reconciliation' mean?" I have not been the one hiding these past two years. I have absolutely nothing from which to hide. There is no shame in my leaving, no shame in filing for a divorce. I have never sat down and talked with these people about our situation and it has been nearly 8 years since I moved. "I'm always available to talk," said the pastor's wife... except she's about 10 years too late. She'd have gotten a much reserved conversation years back. Today she'd get an earful and I'm not sure either one of us is ready for that.

I've learned a lot of things about church and organized religion these past ten years. I've also learned a lot about the love of God, His ability to care for me and my family, a lot about protecting women and children, and a lot about standing my ground and guarding my heart. I am sickened by the atrocities hidden behind church doors, the secrets kept, and the fingers pointed. I haven't lost my faith, instead it has deepened in a way I never thought possible. Gone are the trite sayings and flippant responses. Gone are judgement and condemnation (if I ever held that to start) and in their place is more love, more acceptance, and more room for those whose choices I don't understand.
  

Cindy. Cindy had a heart of gold. She was far from perfect, but she knew she was loved by her creator and trusted that her cancer and subsequent passing would glorify God. Her prayers were for her friends and family, myself included. Her prayers are being answered. I know that. God isn't finished with her at all. She may not be here in body, but she will remain in spirit for many years to come.

* Pictures from my walk at Webster Park last week.

"Choice"

In the course of my bookcase moving adventure, I came across two souvenirs, a pair of spoons I brought home from the daycare several years ago. (I traded them for two I bought at Walmart.) It's the little things like this that keep me believing in God and His uncanny ability to answer when I am totally clueless. It's happened more than once in my life. Some folks call these coincidences, others call them "God Winks." Most times I say I felt God smile. I'm not sure what was going on with coincidences and God-winks back in 2018, but I know He was answering the cries of my heart.

January 4, 2018- 
So... I've been looking for answers. I've prayed for answers, and sometimes God has given them, but I have a tendency to question His answers, which leaves me looking for answers all over again, and wondering why He doesn't answer...

... He (the therapist) asked what I needed again. I may or may not have said "answers" and the conversation turned to answers vs choices. Here I am, the ever indecisive, needing to make hard choices. 

...  if I want to move forward, there will be more choices. Some will be easy, and others will be hard. It is the hard choices that help us grow and make us strong.

I was looking for a word for this year. maybe it is "choices."

January 8, 2018- 
"Because of Calvary, I am free to choose." Max Lucado, Grace for the Moment. 

It not so much about getting answers as making choices, and so I will practice choosing. (And quite honestly, I think God really is answering, even if He isn't answering in quite the way I'd expected.) 

January 9, 2018-
Today we got two little boxes of new spoons. (at work)Twelve individually wrapped spoons in each box...

 ... Do you know that on the back of each spoon the word "CHOICE" is engraved? It doesn't say choice on the box, and when I found them online it said nothing about choice...

Today I no longer question the choice I made. I did the right thing, agonizing though it was. Sometimes I still long for someone to wrap me in his arms, but I am wrapped in a love I didn't know existed prior to all the hard choices. Today I am able to love myself in a new and healthier way. My family and I are worth the cost of all I chose to leave behind. 

 

Christmas 2023

We had a very nice Christmas this year. We gathered at Beth and Adam's house with outside weather that felt more like we were at Jim and Michele's place in Florida. It was 57 degrees Fahrenheit and downright balmy. Jillian was out running across the year in bare feet. (She takes after her mother. Ha ha!) 

Each and every one of my local kids and grandkids
made an appearance and I am thoroughly blessed. I brought a bin full of smallish Squishmallow friends and let the kids each pick one. Even the older boys had smiles on their faces while plucking a sleek, soft, stuffed creature from the collection. Hannah and I had picked out 23 just a week prior so that everyone got a chance to choose rather than be stuck with the leftovers of other's choices. I was confused when I counted the remainder and there were eleven instead of ten, but the mystery was solved when before I went home a small child said, "You didn't get me one." Oh, Henry! He was smiling too after picking a small, pillowy friend.

My friend Gail joined us for dinner this year which was very nice. We had way more turkey, macaroni and cheese, and desserts than we could finish in one day. It made me feel just slightly better about not having made any Christmas cookies this year.

I could take all my lovely decorations down and pack them away, but I've been enjoying them so much that I think I'll keep them around for a while longer.

Ugh, My Favorite Word

It's time to renew my health insurance through NY State... and I make $4,000 dollars too much a year to qualify for free coverage. In order to keep my health insurance I have two choices. I can pay slightly reduced amount for insurance, or I can reduce my taxable income by $4,058/year. It comes out to be about the same either way. I could never figure this out on my own so I am grateful to both Pat, who brokers the health insurance, and Nick who takes care of my IRA, which is where the nearly $80/week will go. I am now left with creating a budget to insure all my expenses are covered, and finding ways to pay my current debts and reduce spending as well. (Having raised seven children I am somewhat familiar with this game...)

One sure fire way to reduce spending and save wear and tear on my car is to change jobs locations. If I were to secure employment within summer walking distance, say a mile or two away, I could save $180.00/month on gasoline and probably hundreds more on car repairs. I'd also save money on a gym membership, if I had one. Ha ha! I am currently looking into this option. I filled out an application. Another daycare center about a mile from home. Wish me luck or say a prayer.

The bedroom tunnel is looking longer but not as dark. It may never get finished, but it's finished enough to put back in some semblance of order. We can now access the attic and I can find my clothes and belongings. My bed remains downstairs and I am (mostly) okay with that. We're cooking up a downstairs plan too. For now the upstairs room will be a place for doing physical therapy exercises, sorting belongings, and finding alone time if needed. It looks bright and inviting and that makes me smile.

In other news, which isn't at all new or shocking, I went to the lake. It's been very calm recently so it was fun to see it kicking and screaming this afternoon. I came home with a ton of pictures, two slightly wet feet and a wet backside. So exhilarating!!!

It's a Tought Job but Somebody's Gotta Do It.

Kitchen work was easier than being a baby teacher. I liked working in the kitchen. It wasn't so hard on my heart.

After spending the summer at home, today my little friend Hannah returned to the daycare. I saw her come in and hurried to say hello, but my time was cut short by a new baby coming in right behind her. Later, when I was given a chance to use the bathroom, I stopped to see how she was adjusting to the Waddler Room. We had just enough time and interaction for her memory to be stirred. Like her cousin Olivia last week, Hannah suddenly realized that I still loved and remembered her and she cried when I had to leave. Traitor is not too strong a word for what I feel. Ugh.

My Infant Room is filling up quickly. Today I had three, tomorrow I will be at capacity with four. The numbers will fluctuate depending on the day but four babies is the maximum for  one infant teacher. It was a day filled with snuggles and puke. On the babies, on the floor, and on me. I'm wearing it like a badge and wiping it off the best I can. Ha ha! These babies, at least so far, appear to be better sleepers than the former group. I'm taking the good along with the hard.

In other news, I'm still growing, learning, and letting go, although I'm not always entirely certain how to do all of that. It's the letting go/hanging on that cause me angst. I can do either one if I only know which one I'm supposed to be doing. Let's just say not all of my children and grandchildren appear to want a close relationship at this particular moment. They have their own lives and make their own choices, and that is okay. As much as it stings sometimes, I can give them that privilege. I can let go and entrust them to the One who knows all things. I am okay. They have returned before, they may return again...

Mother's Day

Many are the moments when I still find myself in disbelief at what has become of my family. Deep inside I know that it had been unraveling over the course of many years, I mean, I saw loose threads and frayed edges but I had no idea what was causing them. The fabric of our relationship had been damaged beyond repair, yet I kept trying to try the loose ends and patch holes. How was I to know the fabric itself was weak and rotted...

Another Mother's Day has come and gone. It was a beautiful day. Crisp and sunny. Cold and hot. I went out to breakfast with my friend Gail. The restaurant we intended to visit was overflowing, so we took a drive toward Williamson and each got a breakfast sandwich from a little donut shop on Route 104 before heading to her cottage on Lake Ontario. We spent the next few hours scouring the beach for bits of tumbled glass. We were not disappointed. It was a fabulous glass hunting day!

It was early afternoon when I headed back home. A few of my boys came over and we had a nice visit in the backyard before ordering a pizza. They packed a few pieces of furniture for one of them into the back of Ben's truck and headed out around 7 pm. I took Joe home to his apartment and returned home for a little bit of ice cream before heading upstairs. I had just climbed into bed when I heard a vehicle in the driveway and some voices. Soon I was being serenaded in song. "Happy Mother's Day to You..." It was Bethany and a few of my grands. So fun. I had a phone call from my faraway son in Florida. Only one of my children intentionally did not make contact. He's sending us a message. Or trying....

Forgiveness is a powerful tool and I used it many, many times. I used it when it was the right tool for the job, and I used it when I should have been using something much more powerful, but there was so much I didn't know... I can't go back and fix what was so very wrong. All I can do is make better choices today. One of those choices is to stand by the child who has decided to file a deposition against her dad. I stand firmly with her. Some thing are not okay and never will be okay. Today I have more information as to why we were disintegrating and I also have better information on how to respond. Forgiveness is still here, but it isn't the only tool in the box.

The Weekend

 It was a nice weekend. We celebrated Idris's birthday (which is really the 27th) with a party on Saturday afternoon. I made pizza for the guests and Hannah put together a fabulous cupcake shark. It was cold outside so we had a full house. I love that this child gets birthday songs in both English and Spanish. I also loved that he seemed to appreciate it more himself this year. (It was actually Bethany's birthday, but she was willing to share with her little nephew, and we sang the birthday song for both.)

Yesterday morning I met my friend Gail out in Sodus Point for one more walk along the shore. The sun was out and we collected a few bits of glass along the seaweed strewn sand and stones. When we got hungry, we drove down Lake Rd to Burnap's Farm Market for lunch. Theirs is a seasonal market and so they'll be closing down soon for the winter.

A bit farther down Lake Rd I turned off into the orchard and drove all the way through to Shepherd Rd where our farm sat like an old friend who looks mostly the same but has dyed her hair and wears an unrecognizable garment. I looked enough to see that Jon has cut down the apple trees on the property he owns and put up a fence. Kudos to him for facing down the farmer. Other than that I couldn't look much and found later that I hardly remembered the drive from there all the way back to Webster. It still aches but the memories of home are sweet.

I am okay. Both inside and outside. I can make healthy choices, like going off medication that causes terrible itching (I scratched all day Saturday) and breaking a date with an old friend (I was invited by the father of the groom to a wedding) when I see that his choices aren't healthy for me or my family. God is still here with me, fighting for me, leading me, gathering me close when I start to wander, and always, always loving me. I am forever blessed.

Bits and Pieces

* Life is weird, and September has been extremely stressful. Emotional relief came midweek, a little earlier than anticipated, when my heart and mind were suddenly noticeably relaxed. Perhaps it was Tuesday evening's pottery class... but more likely it was a settling of thoughts, as if several previously misaligned pieces suddenly shifted into place creating a totally different perspective.

* My kids are struggling and it pains this momma's heart. If I could make them little again, I would make sure their life "tool boxes" were better equipped, but the days of me packing for them are over. Today they are left with choices. Either find the tools themselves, ask for help finding them, or learn how to get along without. There are SO very many things I would do different, but all the "if only's" in the world won't change what is. We can only go on from here.

* My favorite firstborn turned 40 this past Friday. How he caught up to me so fast is a mystery. I was so disappointed to miss his birthday, and then I realized that he probably wasn't fretting over it like me. The realization took the sting away, (and I was just there a few week back). I am a silly mom sometimes.

* It was a great weekend to be down at the lake. I even got my feet in the water again. Summer is holding on with all it's might. The lake water is getting colder, but still very enjoyable. I'll be gone away this next weekend so Saturday might have been my last opportunity for lake walking this year. (That's my friend Gail looking for beach glass.)

Truth is Hard To Swallow

Forgive me a heavy post while I sort my thoughts...

My biggest regret in life is inadvertently teaching my children to tolerate and accept abuse. My greatest heartache is seeing the effects of my failure to teach them otherwise. I thought I was teaching them love and forgiveness. I somehow thought they would automatically and instinctively know what abuse looked like. I didn't realize they would come to view it as "normal." Instead of teaching them to choose healthy relationships, I modeled enabling, and I failed to protect them when they were abused. How often did I bite my tongue in order to avoid escalating a situation? How many times did I cover for him because of my own fear or embarrassment? How regularly did I tell myself "It isn't that bad" or "It could be worse"? Why didn't I realize how deep and long-lasting are the wounds of spiritual, emotional and mental abuse? How did I come to believe the lack of physical evidence equated the lack of actual abuse? How did I slip into focusing only on what was good in our family when in actuality so much was out of line?  The price is astronomical.

Today I have a divorce, but it took extenuating circumstances to get us here. I didn't arrive in this place without an incredible amount of inner conflict. It has been incredibly painful on every side. I have felt the crippling inability to respond, the suffocating agony of straddling disbelief and acceptance, and the fear of losing everything I loved including my relationship with my children. I have both kept silent and shared secrets, attempted to gloss over pain as well as expose it, and to be honest about our issues while not tearing down the other. It's an impossible balance and I fall multiple times on a daily basis. Sometimes I have a painfully difficult time getting up to try again.

When I walked away from my marriage, it was my desperate hope to set an better example for my children, but they were already grown. I finally saw a boundary that had to be enforced, even though there had been boundary crossings trampled long before. (Sometimes it takes my breath away when I realize the extent of what I have tolerated.) I am finally beginning to understand why outsiders are so furious with the "non offending" parent, even though I understand her place because I am her.

Where do I go from here? What can I do? It is impossible to travel back in time and do life over again, to make better past choices myself and set better past examples. I'm struggling to not make excuses for the younger me, while at the same time realizing that the younger Martha did the best she knew how to do. This is a painful process full of icky feeling emotions. My hands feel dirty but no matter how many times I wash them, I can't seem to get them entirely clean... And just when I feel utterly hopeless, God steps in to remind me that there is always hope with Him. I don't have to be an enabler. I can make better choices for the future. I can heal from codependence. I can be a better mom, grandmother, and friend.

What's Going On?

Is there a post within? I've asked myself this question several times while staring blankly at the computer screen or spinning off a post that ends up being nothing more than a draft in a file folder. The truth is, I want to write posts about funny children, family picnics, and grand adventures. You know, the kind of stuff I used to write about, but life is a little off track right now and when those things do happen, they get a little lost in the shuffle of thoughts.

I did sit and play dishes and pretend food with Idris after work one day last week. We were outside at the picnic table in the driveway and his daddy was mowing the front lawn. the game entertained the small child long enough for Sergio to take a shower while the little guy was busy. And then last night, we took a walk around the big block while Hannah and Sergio got ready to go out to a picnic. He likes to stop and poke sticks and leaves down into the storm sewer grates alone the way. When he runs I have to walk fast to keep up, but when he's looking down into the watery darkness of the storm sewer, I try to be patient and wait, because I remember looking down into them when I was about his size.

I had a rough morning at work. Just didn't feel like myself. Tired, achy, and irritated. (I was being much nicer than I felt...) On my lunch break I took a couple ibuprofen and tried to catch a short nap. I didn't sleep much, but I did find myself feeling better a little later. Not sure what has me off, the weather, allergies, or the abscess under my arm. I'll go see a doctor when my new health coverage kicks in this weekend. In the meantime, since I don't have a fever and it's not giving me too much grief, I'll stick to warm compresses and keeping my hands off it.

The 30 Day Cleanse is going good for me. Nine days in now and I don't feel starved. I'm making better choices and drinking a whole lot more water. Sometimes I miss my coffee, but not too much. I haven't even missed eating meat and that is kind of amazing. Had a great salad last night at Panera Bread. I customized a Modern Greek Salad. Erased the Feta cheese and replaced those two things with cucumbers and olive oil. (Hannah is a genius.)

It's a short work week due to the holiday yesterday, and another short one next week because I took Thursday and Friday off. Going on a women's retreat with a few friends. I'm feeling both excited and a little intimidated all at once. ha ha!

Expect the Unexpected, I Guess

I am tired of beginning the arduous task of unpacking the baggage only to get overwhelmed and throw it all back into the bags unsorted. I don't know how to do this alone, and I don't know who or how to ask for help. It's such an agonizingly slow process that I can't blame my friends and family for shying away, especially when each item in the bags holds such deep meaning for me. I don't mean to chase people away,... really, I don't... and I don't know how to heal. I've come so far and have so far to go. The problem is I don't know where I'm headed or what I might need in those bags.

In the Bible, the Children of Israel were led out of a life of slavery in Egypt, and into the wilderness where God promised to take care of them and lead them into the Promised Land. They started out bold and courageous, ready for the journey, but ended up grumbling, full of fear, and wanting to turn back. They knew what they had left behind, and it wasn't all good, but had little idea of what lay ahead. They longed for the leeks and cucumbers of Egypt, but had no clue about the milk and honey that waited for them in Canaan.

I keep looking backward... I keep seeing all I have left behind. I keep seeing the good and forgetting the pain. It's not that I can't forget, it's that I have a hard time remembering. I circled some words on the checklist of flaws and assets... apprehensive, afraid, avoidant, defensive, enabling, fearful, indecisive, timid... honest, cooperative, faithful, loyal, reliable, forgiving, loving, concerned for others, patient, willing to grow... Fear has crippled me. I am frightened of other peoples' opinions, of being alone, and of expressing my own ideas and opinions. I am afraid of making wrong choices, even when I have every reason in the world to make them. Why? Why is it that I am so afraid? Where in the luggage is that piece buried?

"Three to five years..." That's how long he told me it could take to work through these things. I'm three and a half years in and some days I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm working through anymore. I know I need to change my focus... I need to work on Martha... but I don't even know most of the time what that means.

I've been asked to drop out of my step study. I don't have my inventory written and often haven't finished my homework... I didn't see it coming. I thought I still had time.

This was unexpected. This is painful. I don't know where to go from here.

Into the Unknown...

I don't know exactly where I'm headed, but I know Who lights the path. It's not possible to see all the way down the road today because there are curves, hills, and obstacles blocking the view. I know that is intentional. Trusting God is about not being able to see too far ahead... and following anyway. It means following even when I know others will not understand, and even when I know they will misjudge me and my intentions. It means going where He leads even when it is hard and uncomfortable. It means I may not fully understand either.

When all is said and done, I pray my kids and grandkids will be able to trust my heart and the choices I am making. I pray they will know there are boundaries and consequences in life, and that upholding boundaries is often just as hard for the one upholding them. I pray we all remember that each of us reaps what we have sown. I pray they will know there is forgiveness, and deep and abiding love, even in the midst of pain and brokenness. I pray we will continue to heal as a family, because we are broken in so very many ways... And I pray the grace of God and his abiding love will shine through even in what feels like the darkest of days. I pray I do not let go of His Hand or wander from the path, and that He continues to carry me though times when I can't go on myself.

Life is fraught with pain, but there is also joy. I am thankful for those who have prayed, and continue to pray for each and every one of us. I am thankful for my new church and those who are loving and encouraging me, and I am thankful for our old church and those who surround the Cabinet Maker with love and prayers. I am thankful for my parents and their investment in our life, for the example they were, and the prayers they lifted heavenward for each of us. I am blessed and thankful that God loves me, James, and our children more than either of us ever could, and that He is with them, hearing our prayers and working on their behalf. I could wallow in regret over the past, but today I choose to be grateful for all the good in our lives rather than to focus on the ugly. I choose to let Jesus redeem what is broken in His time and His way, because His ways are better. Thank you to each and every one of you who is praying for us. We need those prayers more than you can imagine.

Moments

There are moments when I know what needs to be done and feel confident in moving forward... and there are times when every option leaves me feeling broken and fearful.

I want answers shouted from heaven. I want to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the choices I make will be right. But there are no thundering voices calling from heaven, and more often than not the shadows are frightening.

I fear taking scripture out of context. I fear misunderstanding answers. I fear growing old alone. And I fear ... I fear causing more pain than is being relieved. I fear hesitating and I fear running ahead. Scripture says, "Perfect love casts out fear," but I don't know how to make that happen. Fear is all around. It doesn't always consume my thoughts, but sometimes it's roaring leaves me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I'm tired. I'm torn. I am broken. It's time to pick up the pieces. I'm praying that old and broken shards can be still beautiful.

Choose Wisely

I found Sunday morning's message intriguing, like God got together with Pastor Rob and told him all the things I've been thinking the few days previous... It was almost like he was talking about Martha. Well, he was. He was talking about Mary and Martha. There were many things he said that resonated with me, some of them simply words I'd been thinking on.

I posted this quote on Facebook and got a little backlash. "The life that you have is the life you have chosen."  One person sternly disagreed, another said it was how rumors got started, because I'd posted without context. I'd also mentioned I was still "chewing" on it. Recall that several months ago I wrote a series of blogs on choices...

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has made the right choice, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:41-42)

I'm still wrestling with choices.

Pick a Card

Make a choice and go with it. I've made two choices recently...

First of all, I've decided to drastically cut back on my coffee consumption. It was a week of chasing headaches away with Excedrin, but I made it through. I did have two small cups last weekend, but for the most part I've been drinking tea. Caffeinated in the morning, herbal thereafter. The coffee craving has waned dramatically and nature is calling in a more reasonable voice these days.

Second, I'm playing the gluten-free game again. I've done this before and found many of the daily aches and pains slowly disappeared. My joints and muscles were less achy, and I felt better overall. Then I would start eating it again and those symptoms would gradually reappear. Being gluten-free is a hassle but I'm climbing back on the wagon. It'll be two weeks tomorrow. Thankfully there is a vast array of good gluten-free foods out there.

This afternoon I decided to make soup. I perused the store in search of ingredients. I wanted something a bit different from the tomato based soup I made a few weeks ago, something gluten-free for me, and vegan for my sweet girl. I came up with this. My first post on this blog in four years. Who knows, maybe I'll resurrect it.

Learning to Fly

I am tired and emotionally fragile tonight. Part of the healing process is the pendulum of thoughts and emotions...

Working full time is a full time job. It's a good thing. It keeps me busy, gives me purpose, and provides an income. I couldn't have picked a better way to spend my days and I've settled in rather nicely. I snuggle the little ones, mostly the babies, but every once in a while I get a chance to love on the toddlers or preschoolers. You might say I'm a little attached, and I am blessed to be loved back, but I desperately miss my own kids and grandchildren.

Life is fluid. It flows from one stage to another to another, and we hardly realize until most of it is already behind us. I do not spend my days moping. I don't have time for that. I am choosing to love what is left of my life, to love those in it, and soak in all of God's blessings, which are many. In the midst of it all are times of tears. They well up unexpectedly, often triggered by songs or memories, and roll down my cheeks, smudging my mascara, leaving my eyes puffy, and my head a little achy.

I'm getting better, but it's a slow process. I've been working on my tendency toward indecisiveness, I'm trying to practice putting on my own oxygen mask before attempting to help others, and I have a plan to learn how to make and implement the best choices. God has not abandoned me, even if I sometimes feel alone, and somewhere he has a bottle where he keeps my tears. (Psalm 56:8)

Life is Weird

Spoons get scarce at work, especially when the afternoon snack is yogurt. Just imagine passing out snacks to 65 children and you'll be able to understand. Today we got two little boxes of new spoons. Twelve individually wrapped spoons in each box. I decided maybe they should go through the dishwasher before I pass them out for breakfast tomorrow. Do you know that on the back of each spoon the word "CHOICE" is engraved? It doesn't say choice on the box, and when I found them online it says nothing about choice...

I decided to try out a new support group at church tonight. One of the books they recommend reading is "Life's Healing Choices" by John Baker. ... Choices. I know I've kind of made myself super aware of the word, but this still feels a little uncanny.

Free to Chose

"Because of Calvary, I am free to choose." Max Lucado, Grace for the Moment

Well, Wanda, I had some time to kill before my CoDA meeting tonight, so I stopped in Barnes and Noble to look for a book. I chose the expensive one with a soft leather-like cover, and  "easy-to-read comfort-size print." And when the cashier mentioned something about a free cookie in the cafe, I decided to buy a small coffee and inquire on the offer. ("Buy one get one free," the barista said, and so I chose 2 oatmeal raisin cookies.)

It not so much about getting answers as making choices, and so I will practice choosing. (And quite honestly, I think God really is answering, even if He isn't answering in quite the way I'd expected.)