Pray. Then Press On.

Once upon a time I went through a very difficult (for me) period in my life. I felt alone, in spite of good friends/family who offered moral support.

They'd tell me, "You're such a strong person."  I'd think, "Well, I don't feel strong," crying all night, many consecutive nights, for the better part of the year.

I often wondered, "How will get I through this?" All I had to hang on to was hope. So I prayed a ton and pressed on.

That dark period started just over 6 years ago. Since that time I endured divorce, going back to school while working and raising 3 kids on my own, and numerous sleepless nights - tossing & turning, worrying how I would pay a certain bill or how I would afford to fix problems in my little dumpy house which was always falling apart, or how I was going to make the last $5 in my checking account feed my family for the next two weeks.  I questioned if I'd ever fall in love again, if someone could love me "for who I am, even if I am never any better, prettier, thinner, or less-flawed than I am right now, at this very moment."

I wondered, "Is God hearing me?" Admittedly, I even thought (like the brother of the prodigal son), "I was the GOOD one.  Why me, Lord? Why me?"

But He was listening, and He did hear me. He allowed others to serve on my behalf.  A gallon of milk would appear on my door step. A neighbor would bring over a hot dinner for no apparent reason other than she wanted to. An envelope of $200 would arrive in my mailbox the week before Christmas. The man around the corner would bring me an "extra" holiday ham because they had "one too many." A crate of Thanksgiving dinner would show up on my front porch. My yard was magically mowed, my driveway mysteriously shoveled. A $20 bill would fall from a jacket whilst retrieved from the clothes dryer. I would get an "inspired" idea for a completely made-up recipe using the last sleeve of saltines and the last small can of tuna (loaves & fishes?) from the pantry and it was plenty to feed my family, and better yet-- they liked it.  And what were the chances I'd live across the street from the best auto mechanic around with mad skills that my older vehicle always seemed to need? How lucky was I to live among loving, Christ-like neighbors who always knew when I needed talk-therapy and tears, and maybe even some warm muffins or brownies, even if it was 2 in the morning?

For these tender mercies I was always grateful. But at the same time I hated it too. I wanted to be the giver! I wanted to be the one to serve!

Years ago I received a personal promise from the Lord, that if I lived my life paying a full tithe, I would not only have sufficient for my family, but I would "be able to share with those that are in need."  Well, I paid my tithes.  What about His part of the deal?

But apparently, my "blessing" wasn't on the instant gratification fast path.  It came to me in His own time, in His own way(s).  And in the grand scheme of things, looking back, my period of 6 dark years is in reality a small drop.  After all, my life's not over yet.

As of a year and a half ago, I am happily remarried.  My wonderful, kind, and patient husband listens, comforts, and often tells me the things I most need to hear. He is a hard worker and highly intelligent, and I've been blessed in a way that I no longer worry about finances or trying to juggle work and school. He is my biggest fan and is always encouraging me to pursue my career goals.  We are walking Christ's path together and words cannot express how much joy this brings. Since marrying him I have physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually felt my burdens lift.

By the world's standards we are not rich. But our lives are richly blessed and I am finding I am able to serve others in ways which are meaningful to me (and hopefully them).  Giving to others fills something inside of me that I cannot fully explicate, except to say it's my balm of Gilead.

Looking back and seeing the Lord's helping hand, guiding me, aiding me in the midst of my trials and seeing my own personal and spiritual progression, I have a personal testimony that I am loved and that, yes, I am strong!

There is no getting around, ducking under, or jumping over our trials.  There is only going through. And only when we emerge the victor and no longer the victim of our trials, do we begin to realize our own fortitude.

I can do hard things. So can you. I am strong. So are you. With God, everything is possible. Don't give up. Instead, pray. Then press on.

Stumps

So, last week we had a horrible wind storm.  The 70 mph winds they predicted actually came in between 80-112 mph last Thursday.   Category 2 Hurricane-like winds.  Not everyone in the valley got hit hard, but Davis County did, and especially South Davis County, where I live.

We were without power and heat, and unlike some of my neighbors who went without for 55 hours, I was only out of power from 6:30 am Thursday morning until 10:30 pm Thursday night. And while I was "lucky" that a tree didn't fall on my house (sadly, like many other neighbors), a lot of branches came down and I lost several shingles off my already needing-replaced roof.  (Now, if I could just get the landlord to call me back!)

The superintendent of the school district didn't see a particular reason to cancel school (he's a "stump").  Even though driving conditions were dangerous (flying debris, heavy winds) and that meant tons of inexperienced teenage drivers were on the road.  It also mean that students were sitting in dark, cold classrooms, with already wet hair because they couldn't blow dry it that morning. Finally, a neighboring city in South Davis declared a state of emergency and THEY made the executive decision to shut down all of their schools in that city.  Finally, the schools in my town decided to follow suite.  I heard one mother say that up at her daughter's school, the fire alarm went off and the kids had to stand outside in the freezing, harsh winds (with wet hair, mind you) for 45 minutes until a fire truck could be pulled from other tragedies (like downed power lines, overturned gas trucks on the freeway, etc.) to come and clear the school.  Finally THAT principal decided, enough was enough and he was shutting his school down.  In the meantime, the school district switchboard was lit up with steaming mad parents demanding the district close.  Nevertheless, the emergency weather line continued to play with the same message, "Today is December 1st. At this time there are no weather-related issues.  Davis School District is open and all schools are in session."  I think it must boil down to politics and money?  Who knows?  I certainly didn't understand.  The district got so many complaints, they proactively closed school for Friday, which was good, because there were still several schools without power/heat and many also had broken glass to contend with.

So -- after my kids were retrieved from their schools (after their principals decided to override the district's decision), I farmed them out to warm places and I drove up to another office to work because my clients still expected their money and their home sales to close on time.  :)    During my dangerous and extremely slow drive (took me 90 minutes to drive 15 miles) I saw down power lines, over-turned semi after over-turned semi, a twisted up trampoline flying through the air and landing in a field of cows, a mobile home sliced in half by the chain link fence it landed on, lawn chairs and trash bins rolling with ease like they were merely tumbleweeds and the trash from inside tossed all over the place.  Lights were out at nearly every intersection and I witnessed some very impatient drivers taking risks causing fender-benders all over town.

Needless to say, the kidlets stayed farmed out for the night to be sure to have something to eat and to sleep in warm beds and I found a place for myself.  I am not kidding when I say a long hot bath never felt so good.

The next three days in our town was spent cleaning up the after-math, especially because there were threats of another imminent wind storm.   I was cold and sore and tired, but soooo grateful for the help from the local scouts and their leaders who came and lent a hand Saturday afternoon.  Just as they left some more friends showed up to help me get the back tree mess manageable.

In all of the chaos, I felt gratitude and joy in how the community came together to help each other out.  Churches were canceled on Sunday and many others conducted abbreviated services so that the community could work together to clean up before the next possible storm (fear was that the lying branches and debris would damage more homes, posing more health threats).  The National Guard was deployed to help with the clean up as well and I still saw several of their trucks and soldiers around town this morning.

Sunday, a boy from church - who was also one of the local scouts that was assisting in the clean-up made a comment.  He said (paraphrasing):

We went to help [a neighbor] remove a fallen pine tree from her back yard.  But it was so big, we had to cut it down into chunks small enough to roll between the gate out to the front of the house, so it could then be hauled away.  As my leader and I were rolling one of the big stumps he said to me something I will never forget.  He said, "You can't stop rolling.  Even if you hit a rough patch or a bump, you have to roll on through.  Because once you stop, it is much harder to get it started again."  I have thought about that all night and thought how that applies in life too.  When we hit rough patches or bumps in our lives, we have to just keep on going.  Because if we stop, it will be harder to pick ourselves up again and get going.

Smart kid, huh?  Not only did his message bring tears to my eyes because such profound words from such a young man touched my heart, but because I realized that these boys are learning more than service and hard work; they are learning life lessons -- they are building character.  These boys will never forget the after math of that storm, nor will they ever forget the service they rendered and they are better for it.

Moral:  Just keep on rolling along!

Some teenagers in my neighborhood went around town during and after the storm capturing footage...

Xanax, Prayer, and A Hundred-Grand Piano

Have I mentioned I have anxiety? I think I may have mentioned it once, or twice, or... a million times! haha!

About 4 weeks ago I went to my private piano lesson with my college instructor. After I do my warm-up scales she says, "Oh, I think I forgot to tell you that you will need to play a piece in front of a piano jury."

I'm all, "What? A JURY? What the heck's a JURY?"

She tells me that the jury consists of the head of the music department and the piano instructors. "Basically, it's a panel," she explains. Well, why don't they just call it a PANEL then, right? Seriously.

So, she tells me I can just perform the Sonatina I've been working on, and that the Jury is right before the recital. And just to be clear, I wasn't thrilled about having to perform in a recital either. But I knew the drill. I knew it was expected.

My instructor is awesome actually. Not only is she a rock star on the piano, she is also hilari-oso and approximately my age. So, going to see her for my weekly lessons was a lot like going to chill with a friend. We laugh-- a lot. Mostly, she'd laughed at me and my idiosyncrasies. But, it's all good. I'm a big girl, I can laugh at myself too.

So, throughout that week I worked a little harder on the Sonatina in addition to my recital piece, since now I learned I'd have to play them both. I go to my lesson three weeks ago and she says, "I think we are going to put you in the advanced recital group." I freaked. No way did I want to play in the advanced recital. My stomach churned. I asked if I could just play in the intermediate group. In my mind I was envisioning the advanced group to contain all of these virtuoso child prodigies. Li'l Beethovens or Tchaikovskys or something. But she assured me it would be fine.

Then three weeks ago she tells me, "Oh -- did I tell you you'd have to play scales for the jury too? How are your scales? Oh and your Sonatina needs to be memorized."

Well, I can play my scales, but I prefer to play them in the order of what's known as the "Circle of Fifths". Because I can just add 1 sharp each time and avoid the whole panic moment of "E Major? Crap! How many accidentals is that?!?!" But, the instructor says, "Well, they will just announce which ones they want you to play." Then I look at her and then ask, "Memorized? I don't really memorize. I mean, is there an app for that or something?" I rolled my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. The instructor laughs. Then she tells me to go ahead and run through my scales first.

Then, two weeks ago I gave my instructor a sneak-preview to How Emma Has A Meltdown. Normally I am not nervous during my lesson, but there were two guys in the room. They both had headphones on, plugged into electronic keyboards practicing. But how could I be so sure they were REALLY plugged in and that they weren't instead LISTENING to me!?!? I made several mistakes. My palms were sweaty and my breaths shallow. I finally stopped and said, "Sorry. Those guys are making me nervous." At that, the instructor got up and walked over to the 2 guys and tapped them on the shoulders. I thought how nice it was of her to ask them to leave. But -- that isn't what she did. Nope, she asked them if they wouldn't mind pulling up a chair right next to my piano so I could practice in front of an audience! Yes -- she did!

My mouth dropped. I let out a nervous chuckle. My instructor laughed and said to the guys, "This one? Yeah -- she's all about the drama." Ha! Can you believe that? I soooo started laughing. If I didn't love her I'd have been furious. But we became good enough friends that it was okay coming from her. Problem was, while I started the Sonatina in front of them all I could think of were things like, "What are these guys thinking? I wonder if they are better than me. They are probably better than me and are irritated that they have to use their practice time to sit and listen to me while I have an anxiety attack at the piano." And of course, I'd mess up and mutter something. The instructor called out, "Ah! No talking. If you stop or talk you have to start over." Well, needless to say I had to start over 3 times. After that experience she says to me, "Um. I am just going to tell the panel that I forgot to tell you to have your piece memorized. Bring your music and instead of working on memorization, work on the musicality. I just don't want you to freak out if you lose your place."

Good thinking.

So -- one week ago, give or take a few days -- was THE day. I had the Piano Jury @ 3pm but my recital wasn't until 6pm. While other students were going ahead of me for their juries, I paced outside in the hallway wishing I had a chance to practice on that specific piano beforehand. See, the jury and recital were not at the school. They were held in a performance room at a local piano store. And pianos are all different from each other. Some keys are sensitive while others are hard to play. So, practicing on the one you'll actually be performing on is always a good idea.

I think I said about a million prayers that day. I even took a half day off of work just so I could breathe a little easier. About 20 minutes before my "jury duty" I took about 1/4 Xanax. I knew a whole one would put me to sleep and I didn't know if a 1/2 one would make me too groggy to play. So, I took a 1/4. Then I said about a million more prayers.

It was my turn and I walked into the room and my instructor introduces me to the jury members and I ask, "Ok, what do you want me to do first?" She replies with, "Well, how far did we get on your scales?" I said, "Um, I think we got through all of the sharps." She then turns to the panel and says, "I totally forgot to tell her until the last minute she'd have to do scales." Then she looks at me and says, "Why don't you go ahead and play your piece first." So I announced I'd be playing the 3rd movement to Clementi's Sonatina, Opus 36, Number 5. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might leap through my chest. I sat down, took a deep breath and looked at the music. I tried to "hear" the first few measures in my head and then I went for it. At first I was a little nervous, but once I started playing, I realized it sounded really, really good. This was an awesome piano! At the end they told me it was flawless and great and the head of the department said that I "executed nice clean, crisp finger runs." I smiled and I said "I think this is a magical piano." Then they said that was all and dismissed me. They didn't even ask me to play scales. I could hear through the door that the students both before and after me had to play scales. How did I get off so easy?

Whew, one down. One to go. It wasn't worth it driving home and back in between as I lived about 30 minutes away and I didn't want to risk it with rush hour traffic. By 4pm I realized I was starving and was so nervous I had forgotten to eat lunch. I knew that if I didn't eat something I'd feel like passing out before the 6pm recital. I drove down the street and when I spotted the Cheesecake Factory, I figured I'd go and get a little sumthin-sumthin. After all, no kids! w00t! I sat at the bar and ordered my diet cherry coke, with real maraschino cherries and cherry grenadine flavoring. Yumm-O! I stared blankly at the golf tournament on the Flat Screen at the bar. I eat a little something and then start thinking about the recital. I think the bartender brought me a total of 6 Diet Cherry Cokes! I took another 1/4 Xanax because I could feel my nerves beginning to pulsate again. I think I said about another million prayers or so.

I make it back in time to sit through and listen to the 5 pm recital. I noticed that everyone seemed nervous and not one person played without a mistake. This did make me feel better. finally it was 6pm. I looked at the program. I was #5. The 4 before me all made a tiny mistake here or there. This also made me feel much better. It was my turn.

I walked up to the piano and pulled out the 6 pages I had taped together and spread them across the music rack. Then I took a deep breath and looked at the first few measures to get it in my head and -- ooops. It was upside down. I turned it over, producing laughter from the audience -- just a little tension reliever I suppose. I took another deep breath and began.

I swear -- that piano really is magical. My piece was an awesome piece full of varying dynamics and tempos, but this piano really helped to bring those things out. My heart stopped pounding after about the 3rd measure and I was able to just get lost in the piece. It was like I completely forgot about the audience. I mean, I knew they were there, but it was like they were just a dream or something. They didn't seem real enough to me at that moment.

Prior to that moment, I had never played that particular piece without at least one mistake. I should mention that since that moment I haven't either. But IN that moment, I nailed it. I played it better than I had ever played it before. It was miraculous, I swear. At the end, I couldn't help but look right over at my instructor. She was grinning from ear to ear and looked as if she might just cry. Which of course then made me feel like crying. I could tell she was excited for me and was proud of me. And truth be told I was excited for me too. I went back and took my seat and no one after me, save it one other student, performed their piece without a mistake.

When it was all over my instructor rushed over to me and hugged me and told me that was awesome. I told her it was that magical piano. She then said, "Well, it better be a good piano. It costs $100,000!" Whoa, right?

I don't know if I will ever perform a piece mistake-free again. But I will say this, a little Xanax, lots of prayer and a hundred-thousand dollar piano goes a long way!

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

How do you measure a year?

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and had a realization. It's been a year, a year of being "commitment free".

When I was in middle school, I had little "flings". Not really Boyfriends in the sense of the word because I couldn't date. But boys who declared we were "going together". Then after a few weeks, I'd decide another boy was cuter and move on, hehe. Once I could start dating, there was always a certain someone at any given time; even if that time was only a week or two. My first serious boyfriend wasn't until my senior year. We broke up right before I went to college, and then I was single all of 7 months before getting engaged.

So, because I was young when I got engaged and then married, I never really had a REAL dating life or a lot of dating experience as a young single adult. I don't fret over it nor feel like I missed out; it just is what it is. Anyway, after my divorce, I hadn't planned on getting back into the dating scene for at least a year. Because I thought it would be good for me to learn how to be single; like for real.

But, I didn't quite make it a year. Things happened and in under a year I had a connnection with someone; someone I would have loved to have had a future with. It was back and forth, up and down, on again off again for two years. But it's no fun hanging on to something wherein the other person can't even express his feeling for you. I was tired of being "stuck", not progressing. The only thing sitting on the fence does is make you a good fence sitter. Moving on.

Now, maybe it's because my school schedule got really hectic. And I do think that is part of it. But I also think I realized through that experience that I give my heart over way too quickly. Because I am a "people person" and I love the affections of and attention from others it's hard for me to be single. So, I decided I needed to just learn how to be alone for a while. I still mingled and dated. But no commitments. Then again, maybe it's just the simple fact that no one asked, haha! (Well, not the right person anyway.)

So, now I can say it's been Five Thousand Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes since I've been committed to anyone. Yay me. Now --- I'd like a boyfriend, please! Hehe... kidding...sort of. Lol!

For your viewing pleasure... From the Musical RENT...

Things... and Stuff

I have been really up and down lately. And I'd like to tell you all about it. But it's just that it's a bit too personal, and I might just cry, and stuff. On the other hand... I feel like I need to share -- talk about it, y'know?

OMGosh -- Fine! I'll spill...

Basically it started out with this person and me, of course. And we got together and did some things and then some other stuff. Then after a while we decided not to do some things and stuff. But then it was like they said this and I said that. And then I was way irritated over this and that and more things and stuff, while at the same time loving all of the things and stuff.

So -- now I am just not sure what to do next. Y'know? And the whole reason I really don't wanna share is pretty much because most people think I just really don't know what I am doing or what I am getting myself into, or that I am a fool. And in some ways a lot of these things and stuff has proved them right. And I really don't want to have to accept that either, cuz that's sort of embarrassing, right? I mean who wants to accept that perhaps they are just a little crazy, or desperate or heaven forbid, WRONG and whatnot. Besides, I guess deep down I feel that while sometimes things and stuff can back us into a corner, or make us do other things and stuff we wouldn't normally do, I just don't wanna have any more regrets, y'know? But by the same token, sometimes there are just certain things that are so totally worth every risk. I mean - as with a lot of stuff, right?

And I know that I said I was gonna like fall off the grid for a while... but seriously? We all know that I am a bloggy-comment-whore and really, like can't stay away for like too long. Cuz mostly, you guys like totally rock and help me get through my crap and stuff while I deal with these things... and stuff... like, y'know? Totally...

Boy, I'm sure glad I'm getting all of this stuff and whatnot off my chest. I feel a little better already. I am sure whatever stuff I decide to do next about all of that other stuff will work out, and I'll be ok, eventually -- maybe even a little better, a little stronger for it. Even though the road may be a little bumpy, and things might seem a little hard to handle sometimes... I mean, I really don't know what I am going to do or what's gonna happen next. I guess most of the things and stuff are outta my hands at this point. I wish like I could see the end from the beginning sometimes, and know more about how all of this stuff is gonna play out.

Wow... you DO get me. Thanks for listening! I know I can always count on you! Mwah!

Random Thoughts...and Cake!

Sometimes things happen when least expected. Events unfold at just the right time, or perhaps even when you might think the "right time" has already passed and it might be too late. This is when I can feel the tide shifting, my emotional waves crashing down in my heart and in my world all around me. I feel like I cannot do one more thing. I feel I cannot go one more day. I feel like no one understands. And most of all, I feel like I can't keep up this charade -of "everything is just fine" - anymore. And it's when I get to this point, He sends someone to remind me. For this, I am grateful.

I am grateful to those who follow inspiration or promptings... I am grateful that the Lord DOES love me... ME! He knows me, He loves me, and He is mindful of my needs and He is mindful of my heart. He knows when I have reached a breaking point and need a break. And He knows when I feel like I just can't do this any more... or at least not on my own.

He knows whom I need and when I need them. And it never fails that I get the hug I need, or the words I am supposed to hear, and even in some cases, a mountain of trials moved that needed to be moved. It is a manifestation unto me that God will make a way where there is no way.

So... now that I have spent most of the day crying and feeling everything from frustration to sadness, to inadequacy, to comfort, and hope, and love... I have one of those "crying" headaches. You know the ones I am talking about right?

On another note... I am really in the mood for some cake. But not just any cake. No, this is a cake my Aunt Lorene makes... it has fruit cocktail in it (but it isn't "fruitcake") and brown sugar and it is super moist, and I love to eat it warm with whipped topping on the top. mmmm.... I can almost taste it!

The Push I Needed

I've known for years that "someday" I would go back to school... or at least I hoped. But then life got busy and I felt too old. I thought perhaps I missed my chance. Then after the Divorce I felt like I should look into school. And yet, at the same time, it seemed like something unattainable, out of reach. Plus, when I had looked into it before, too many years had passed and the local universities wouldn't accept my credits from the first go-round. That meant I would have to start completely over.

Then one of my sisters went back to school. I was jealous and bitter so happy for her. Then another one started taking a few classes. I felt left out excited for her and begrudged congratulated her! But then-- when the third one started taking a class, it was the straw that broke the camel's back I knew it was something I had to do too!

I spent nearly all of 2008 talking about "going back to school". I wondered if I could manage the homework while being a single mom. I worried about the expenses. I feared how long it would take, especially if I would have to go part-time. My friends said it was a good idea. Big-D encouraged me and told me I wasn't too old at all. My mom reminded me that she was older than dirt forty years old when she graduated from college.

I thought about that and I realized that my mother has been doing a job she enjoys and which she is good at for 15+ years. I reminded myself that I will be older than dirt forty in about 5 years and did I really want to be doing the job I am doing *now* for 15 more? Oh HELL-O No!

Nevertheless, I still only "thought" about going back to school. I wasn't sure where to even begin. Fast forward to May. If you remember, this is about the time I started talking to Eric, from back home. I was telling him about the idea of me going back to school. He said, "That sounds great! Where would you go?" I replied, "Probably just the community college. I think they might take most of my former credits." I added, "I would just finish my associates and then transfer to get my degree somewhere else." He then asked, "How much longer do you have to go?" I hesitated, "I am not really sure. Since I'd be going part time, my guess would be about four more years." Then he said, "Well, that doesn't sound too bad!" I sort of shrugged it off. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know... I haven't even applied yet." Then came the pivotal question, "Well what's stopping you??"

Just.Like.That.

It was as if time stood still for just a moment as those words reverberated in my head. What WAS stopping me? That single question set in motion the unraveling thread leading me down this path.

That question was a slap to reality a provocation, staring me in the face...taunting me. It was a question I couldn't ignore. What was stopping me? That's It! No more excuses. I have always been able to accomplish pretty much anything I have set out to accomplish. So, what was stopping me now? I had to call a spade a spade...And this Ace of Spades, my friends, was called FEAR.

As a person of Faith, I know that Fear and the Holy Spirit cannot dwell in the same place. I knew then that I needed to fear not; that I needed to take Fear head-on and replace it with Faith.

I CAN do Hard things... my mother even told me so :)

That very night I looked online and tried to figure things out. So much to do. So little time, and I would probably be too late anyway. Oh well, I thought. I will just "look and see" for next year. Wait! What's this? There is still time to apply for financial aid? The Community College is still accepting applications for Fall 2009? Couldn't be! But it was...

Well, I thought. I guess I could apply and all. I mean, I am sure that there isn't any money left, and I probably won't get in anyway. WRONG!

Apparently EVERYONE gets in to community college... who knew? ;)

And apparently there WAS money left. In fact with my piss-poor impoverished small income, I qualified for enough money that I would be able to go this year solely on grants... No Loans!!!

The rest seemed like a whirl-wind. Placement Testing. Applications. Transcripts Transfer Request. Enrolling in Classes. Getting Books...

I can't believe that here I am six months later, with my "thought" turned into "action". I love that everyone was so encouraging and supportive. I love that Eric gave me the kick in the pants push that I needed.

I sat through a training seminar for a few years back. I remember the speaker saying, "Power comes from telling the truth." She was right. I had to answer that question truthfully. I had to face my fears and "cowboy up", so to speak. And once again, thankfully, my faith prevailed. Not to say that fear and doubt still don't find a way to sneak in sometimes... but hey - I've got straight A's, so I must be doing something right! :)

Who Am I?

Ok, so one of my classes is an Interpersonal Communications course. One of the principles of communications is that "all your communication starts or ends with you." You code or encode things you reveal or receive/interpret through your own frame of reference. Anyway, to understand the role you play in your own communication, it helps to do a little self-discovery. Here was the assignment:
____________________
Consider this question: Who are you? More specifically, ask yourself this question TEN TIMES. Write your responses... It may be challenging to identify ten aspects of yourself. The Spanish writer Cervantes said, "To know thyself...is the most difficult lesson in the world." ("Interpersonal Communication, Relating to Others,5th edition", Beebe, 34)

I Am...a daughter of God

I Am...curious.

I Am...talkative.

I Am...creative, I do things OUTSIDE the box.

I Am...kind & giving.

I Am...no respecter of persons.

I Am...positive (usually).

I Am...enthusiastic & playful

I Am...devoted, committed, loyal.

I Am...loving.

______________

Ok... I admit, this was sort of hard at first. But then, once I got going, it was like the flood gates opened, and as I neared 10, all of a sudden I could think of ten more, and then ten more on top of that! But, I wanted to limit it to the assignment and stick to ten. Try it... see how you do.

Who ARE you???

Hello, My Name Is...?

When I got married the first time I never doubted for a second that I would take my new husband's last name. I had no desire to keep my last name, to hyphenate or anything. It wasn't that I hated my maiden name. I just figured I'd take my husbands. Besides I figured my name was as Plain-Jane as they came, so a new name would be fun; exciting.

Then as I was going through the process of getting divorced, I had to fill out the paperwork and check the appropriate boxes of which name(s) I would go by. I again assumed I would keep my married name. After all, I argued, I had children with this last name, and I would want to keep it the same as theirs. I didn't want to upset them. Plus if I ever did get remarried, I'd probably change it then, so no use changing it more than necessary, right?

Well, AFTER the divorce my youngest asks if HER last name was the same as my maiden name since she lived with me. I told her "no", that her name hadn't changed at all. She then looked at me and said, "But yours did, right?" I explained to her that no, mine is still the same as hers. I think that actually confused her more! Apparently, she thought that my name reverted BACK to my maiden name automatically, just because I had gotten a divorce.


Then a few weeks ago, my oldest said I should have switched back to my maiden name. I thought that was sort of an odd statement. Here I thought I was somehow "protecting" them by keeping my name the same as theirs, and maybe they would have been okay with it after all. Maybe they are seeing that somehow I am NOT the same person I was when I was married to their father (thank goodness for that).

This I know. The more that time distances itself between me and that marriage, the less and less I feel like *that* person... the person with *that* name. Except, that is my name, isn't it? Legally anyway.

In all actuality, I now feel like the REAL me, only better; the OLD me, only newer. I am feeling like I am discovering the ME I was born to be. Funny, because I catch myself writing my maiden name All.The.Time. It's the name I have always tethered to my creative writing pieces, and thus it has never truly left me. And now it is the name I find myself telling people. I slip, I stumble, and I have to think... is this a "legal" question... do they need my "legal" name?

No... I don't think I will change it legally just yet. After all, it *would* be a pain to change ALL the forms, the id's, the bank statements, the credit cards, the gun permit, etc... not to mention all of the $10 fees to get NEW cards. Bleh. No thanks. But it's ok; I KNOW WHO I AM.

So, if per chance I slip and give you the "wrong" name... just know that I am still me... :)

I Guess I Should Explain...

So last week I had some posts that were sort of "self-reflection", "self-realization" posts. These posts were pivotal for me. They were supposed to illustrate my recent shift in paradigm thinking... the "ah-hah!" moment, if you will, that *I* am in charge and *I* have choices to make.


They were empowering for me to write. They were cleansing. They made me feel strong. I think some people could sense that. But when I read some of the comments, I had to do a double-take cuz many almost seemed like condolences, etc. I even had few people ask me if I was "OK". They said I seemed "down" or "hostile" or "bitter". I went back and reread what I had written. I *guess* I could see how it might sound as if I were whining or complaining.


Huh... I thought, Well, call me Captain Backfire. I guess my attempts at self-reflection, sarcasm and wit didn't come off quite as planned. I guess that most people perceived my posts as a "Struggle" and didn't get my humor. I know... I can be a bit unusual...


Please know that I.AM.OKAY. I feel great! True. I am a little stressed with school. True. I do tend to allow doubt and fear creep in at times; but who doesn't right? True. I HAVE had a few meltdowns lately, but those are mostly due to lack of sleep. True. There are recent events that didn't turn out exactly as *I* would have liked and it still hurts. A.Lot. However, I know that I will get through this.


And truly, though I am an over-sharer, I do not like to be seen as weak. I HATE when others feel sorry for me... That is the LAST thing I want. Ergo, when I *DO* decide to confide about my feelings of inadequacy or panic, I will usually do it with an individual whom I feel I can trust, who perhaps has even gone through something similar. I try not to put the most private things on here - via the blogosphere. (I know... this leaves you all wondering with what I HAVE posted, what could possibly be left, right? Trust me... there is plenty!)

I have always been a glass-is-half-full kind of gal and I seriously try to look for the bright side of things and am always looking for creative ways to make life fun and enjoyable.

Thanks to all of my wonderful bloggy-family and friends for coming on my journey with me and sticking around!

You Took

You took away my once innate ability to have confidence in myself. Now I question, I fear.

You took away my instinct to speak up. I hesitate. I keep it to myself.

You took away my desire to touch and be touched. For years, I thought I was the broken one.

You took away my capability to trust first and doubt second. I'm always looking for the lie, and often the lines are blurred.

You took away my appreciation for certain types of music, because now upon hearing it, triggers memories of you.

You took away my capacity to feel intelligent or sexy or good enough around certain types of men.

You took away my inclination to love your people. Granted, out-sourced call-centers don't help... but still...

You took away my feelings of hope. Though I realize now perhaps it was a false hope all along, it was some sort of hope nonetheless.

I had hoped to be loved, to be wanted, to be good enough. To be... happy.

But you took, and you took, and you took, and you took!

And then you had the audacity to Blame.Me. [Sometimes, you are a Freaking Jerk-Face.]

...[deep cleansing breath]...

But YOU WON'T WIN!!!

I may have been physically exhausted. I may have been emotionally beat down. I may have even been spiritually suffering. But I survived; I am still here. I am still my own person, and you cannot take that away from me...Ever. *I* am the one writing MY story now.

I am learning that I can do things I never thought possible. I am learning that I have potential, and that I CAN do hard things, and that people DO love me... and that one day, when I find *THE ONE* he will be so much better for me than you could ever have even hoped to be.

And yes, there are still times when the things you TOOK still have an effect on my actions, but (luckily) those times are dissipating.

As I recently wrote on the Blogstalker's blog while guest-blogging...

I love the notion that, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, but rather we are Spiritual Beings having a human experience.” This adds significance to my plight in determining who I am, as now I desire to figure out who He already knows me to be. It fills me with hope and gives my journey purpose.

The Lemonade Stand Award

As usual, I try to save the award ceremonies for the weekend. Here is another I have graciously accepted. It's the "Lemonade Stand Award". Cuz when life hands you lemons... well, you get the idea.

Thanks so much to Megan (click here) for this award.

Here are the rules:

1) Put the logo on your blog or post. (I just did.)

2) Nominate at least 10 blogs which show great attitude and/or gratitude! (the whole making lemonade out of lemon thing)

3) Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.

4) Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.

5) Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.

As rule number 2 says it all, these are the ten blogs you should be checking out right now because they truly and certainly deserve this kind of award (drum rolls):

Toni
Sarah
Kaye
Ann
Anna
Ardis
Julie
Holli
Rhonda

Betty

Ten Guilty Pleasures

In no particular order...here are 10 of my guilty pleasures...

1) I like to buy "PEEPS" candies and remove the cellophane wrapper and let them get a little stale/hard. I LOVE eating hard peeps...mmm.

2) Soaking in a HOT bath for an hour at least once per week.

3) Taking a *minimum* 2 hour nap on Sundays (the kids have seen me without my weekly nap... better to let me sleep undisturbed.)

4) Scrapbooking or working on another "fun" project instead of doing housework.

5) Recording (DVR) all of my fav TV shows, and then "wasting" a rainy/cold day watching ALL of them.

6) Making myself a peanut butter and chocolate frosting sandwich on soft bread while engaging in #5. Better yet if I just bring the entire loaf and both jars with me, so I can continue to eat without disturbing my viewing pleasure.

7) Massages! I used to get one EVERY FRIDAY, no lie. It was a guilty pleasure that I had to give up, sadly, when I became a single mom. Just can't justify the expense. (My weekly therapy sessions were about the same in cost, and I didn't have to tip my counselor, lol!)

8) Romance Novels. Now, I don't mean the smutty kind either. I like pretty much anything written by Nicholas Sparks. Though I have also started a few other authors. I just love a good love story with a happy ending.

9) Baking! All I need to hear from one of my kids is, "I wish we had brownies (or cookies, or cake, or pie...)" and I am searching through my recipes. I love any excuse to bake.

10) Rainy Days! Seems like an odd guilty pleasure, I know. But, if I do not have to work, I let "rainy days" be my excuse for anything/everything! On cold rainy days, I don't feel like getting out of bed. I just wanna snuggle the blanket a little closer, and stay in my flannel jammies. And when I get hungry, order a pizza! I have come to realize that Pizza is the PERFECT rainy/snowy/cold day food! oh - and by the way, this is great to do in conjuntion with #5, while saving #6 for dessert! hahaha!

What are some of your guilty pleasures?

How Can I Be

Reminds me of when I lived in Hawaii. Love this song. It'd be nice for my kids' mission farewells. Enjoy.

Lyrics:

How can I be like my brother Nephi?
and My father Lehi of old?
How can I be like Captain Moroni
and the wars that were told?

How can I be forever
Like the promise to the three Nephites?
I wanna be Samuel the Lamanite
I wanna be Benjamin the Wise
I wanna be like Abinidi
Oh tell me how can I be like them?
Ooh...  Ooh...

How can I be like Alma the Younger,
Strong servant of the Lord?
How can I be like Mighty Ammon,
Whose heart was his sword?

How can I be a stripling warrior,
And learn to fight by faith?
I wanna be Samuel the Lamanite
I wanna be Benjamin the Wise
I wanna be like Abinidi
Oh tell me how can I be like them?
Ooh...  Ooh...

How can I be (How can I be?) like my brother Joseph,
When he prayed in the grove of trees?
How can I have (How can I have?) the strength that he had
and the love he had for God?

How can I be courageous
and strive to choose the right?
I wanna be Samuel the Lamanite.
I wanna be Benjamin the Wise.
I wanna be like Abinidi.
I wanna be like Jesus Christ
Oh tell me how can I be like Him?
Oh tell me how can I be like Him?

Ooh...  Ooh...

Inner Strength

One's perception of "inner strength" is relative, depending on one's background, life-style and experiences.

For example my Grandmother, Velma Louise Lawson Griffith, felt that being a "strong woman" meant having a strong hand with her children. It meant not showing emotion in public. It meant never having to apologize even when she knew she was wrong. It meant working hard and never complaining. Anything other than this, was what Grandma Griffith viewed as signs of weakness. She wanted to be a strong woman. I think this was common of her generation. Perhaps it stems from being a child of the Depression Era. Have you noticed that these people never smiled in their photographs? I remember an old black & white photo of some of my ancestors; all of them bearing stoic expressions. Definitely a product of the Depression; even the photo is depressing. No one looks happy.

My mother was a Baby Boomer. For clarification, Baby Boomers are those born between 1946 - 1963. Then women discovered "the pill" and our nation began to see a sharp decline in births. My mother was born in the midst of this. She can remember when she was "allowed" to wear pants to school. Girls wearing pants to school? Women taking birth control pills? What's next?Shaving legs? Going to college? Working outside the home? That's exactly what happened. Feminism was unleashed with a vengeance. Women of this generation were said to be "strong".

It's true that I come from a long line of "strong women", and I feel this pressure to be strong myself. I was raised to have my own opinions. I was raised to think for myself, and to have enough confidence in myself to stand up for the things I believe in. In this respect, I feel I am just as strong as my mother, and her mother, and her mother's mother. But the inner strength I desire, or sometimes need, goes well beyond that.

Some days it takes all my inner strength to get up out of bed, or to do the laundry, or even cook dinner. It takes all my inner strength to put a smile on my face and go to work in the morning or to church on Sundays; to face the world. It's not depression. I've been there before, and that can be dark. This is more...exhaustion, maybe? I suppose some would call it laziness or lack of motivation. Perhaps those words are more befitting. Or maybe it's because I look at my life today and realize I am in a place I never imagined I would be. Maybe I'm just feeling overwhelmed by it all.

Sometimes, when someone tells me that I am a strong person, I want to scream, "I don't feel strong!" I watched the "Emma Smith: My Story" movie last week. It was sort of apropos to the way I had been feeling. The motif was all about Inner Strength. The quote that sticks out in my mind most is "We don't just have strength, we have to find it." I had to remind myself that only I can determine my own happiness. If I lack motivation, I have to be the one to find it. If I feel weak, it is up to me to find strength.

I also like that quote because it says we have to find strength. The notion that we have to find it, indicates that it is lost, which in turn indicates we had it to begin with. God sent each of us here to earth with an innate sense of strength. However, it is through our mortal experiences in which we become chiseled down and lose that strength.

Now that I have reminded myself of this, I have to ask, "What am I doing to find strength?" The answer is all of a sudden very clear. I am already doing it. I am doing things each and every day to find strength. Strength comes through prayer, it comes through scripture study. Strength comes by way of others, through the tender mercies of the Lord. I know that I am meant to live where I live, have the friends I have, the church calling I have, the job I have and the family I have so that I can find strength. These are all tender mercies. The Lord has placed these people and these things in my life to remind me that I am not alone, and that I was not meant to do it alone. When I have no more strength to give, I can rely on the strength of others. This is the Lord's way of telling me he loves me, and that I am a child of God. And it is having this knowledge above all else, the knowledge that He loves me, that continues to give me strength.

Finding strength, I have come to learn, is a process. It's the whole, "one step at a time", "precept upon precept" process. When we learn that we are strong in one area of our life, we can move on to something else. It's not so much that we are strong in all things all the time, but more so that we continue to find strength in the little things and build upon those.

The point is we keep trying. We learn from our mistakes, we learn from our experiences, then we make a choice. And often the choices we make are more about the choices we leave behind.

And sometimes, just making the decision to choose is enough strength in and of itself - even if that choice is simply going back to bed.