Goodbye 2011

It's been another difficult year. In April, we lost a beloved pet and a beloved uncle. In September, my husband entered a recovery program for the treatment of chemical dependency. But in spite of it all, we have been blessed beyond measure, and we are grateful to God for his goodness to us. 

“Reflect upon your blessings, of which every man has plenty,

not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”

- Charles Dickens

Day 92: Almost perfect...

In many ways, this Christmas was one of our best ever.  All seven of my children were home.  I managed to get all seven to church with me Christmas morning. We enjoyed several days of food, family, and fun.  And the gifts that were given and received were truly appreciated (a first among so many!).  It was almost perfect, except:

• This was our second Christmas without Poppa, and I still haven't gotten used to seeing others sitting in his big chair.
• This was our first Christmas without Peyo, our beloved Dalmatian, who used to sleep on my side of the bed.  I miss rubbing my feet on his warm body before I climb out of bed on cold winter days.
• This was our first Christmas without Uncle Jack and his big laugh, his big heart, and his crazy, quirky Christmas cards.
• This was our first (and I pray our only) Christmas without my husband.

And in spite of my many, many blessings and all the Christmas cheer, I went to bed Christmas night with a heavy heart, remembering those that I have loved and lost in the past two years and longing desperately for my husband.

Today is the day after Christmas, and I'm still feeling a little melancholy and sad.  I guess I've got the Christmas blues...

Day 85: The Best of Times...The Worst of Times

"It was the best of times; it was the worst of times..." (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities)

This morning I dropped my husband off at the airport after his first 48-hour visit home. 45 ½ of those hours were the best in our fourteen-year marriage. The last 2 ½ hours were more difficult than the day he left.

This morning when the alarm went off, I felt like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. At 5 am I sat bold upright in bed, looked at my sleeping husband, and burst into tears at the thought of saying goodbye to him for the 6th time in three months.

Somehow, I managed to regain my composure long enough to get dressed and climb into our vehicle to make the hour and a half trip to the airport. Once there, we both fell apart.

Funny thing about airports—they are simultaneously the happiest and the saddest places on earth.

Saturday went I arrived at the airport I sent our thirteen-year-old son in to get my husband in order to avoid paying for parking. As I waited in our vehicle at the curb, I saw a younger man, probably in his mid to late twenties, emerge from the airport. Before he was able to walk ten feet, a pretty young gal came running to him and threw herself into his arms. As I surreptitiously observed their reunion, I surmised two things—that they had been separated for a very long time and that they loved each other very, very much.

When my husband emerged from the airport, I followed the young gals lead and threw myself into his arms for our own happy reunion. If you ever wish to witness pure, unbridled joy, spend some time in the arrivals area at an airport. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

But today was different, and as I followed my husband into the very same airport that two days prior had hosted our happy reunion, I was assaulted by an entirely different set of emotions. The panic and sadness that I had barely managed to tamp down at 5 am returned with a vengeance and had me in a full nelson before I new what hit me. I clung and I cried, but time was not on our side, and finally I had to turn and walk away from the man I love with tears streaming down my face, not daring to look back…

If you ever want to witness crushing heartbreak, spend some time in the departures area of an airport. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Today was like Day 1 all over again. Tomorrow will be better.

Day 81: Letting Go of Perfection

My husband has been granted a 48-hour pass and will be coming home this weekend for a brief visit.  I wanted everything to be perfect for him when he arrives, but perfection in real life is just as elusive as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and the clouds with the silver linings.

Does perfection even exist? Does the pot of gold?  Does the silver lining?  I've seen rainbows, and I've seen clouds, but never the pot of gold nor the silver lining...nor perfection.  Perhaps true perfection is to be found simply in the rainbows and the clouds...

My husband is coming home, and that is enough for me.  Our home is much the same as he left it.  I pray that that is enough for him.

Day 68: I've Got Mail

I got a three-page letter from my husband today.  It made me cry.  I love him. I miss him.  And I am oh so proud of him.

Day 66: Grace

As I consider the work that God is doing in our family, I am struck by God's amazing grace, especially when juxtaposed with the work that I had been trying to do in our family, which was a shabby imitation of grace that I have come to recognize as the codependent counterfeit known as enabling.

Grace and enabling can look quite similar on the outside -- appearing to demonstrate love to the unlovable and bless those who deserve it least -- but enabling is foolish, indulgent, and conditional, and in the end, it always leads to bitterness and destruction.

Grace, on the other hand, is as wise as it is extravagant.  It comes with no strings attached. It is never accompanied by resentment, and it always gives life.  It simply says, "Here is the gift.  Do with it what you will." and keeps on loving.

Romans 5:8 reminds us that:

"...while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

That is grace -- wise, loving, life-giving grace.  No strings...no conditions....no resentment...no enabling.

The gift has been given.  Will we accept?  Will we walk worthy of the gift? And perhaps most importantly, will we extend it to others?

Day 64: A longing fulfilled...

And now, the post you've all been waiting for!  Okay, maybe that's overstating it a bit...  I'm sure you all have lives, but I suspect that some of you may want know how my husband's 24-hour pass went, so read on...

On November 26th my husband officially completed his second month in recovery and was granted a 24-hour pass to leave campus.  The kids and I picked him up almost promptly at 11:00 on Saturday morning, and thus ensued our 24 hour journey from awkward to awesome!

Before I can explain the awesome, I must first address the awkward.  Our last visit just over two weeks ago was no es bueno (not good).  I didn't write about it then because I needed time and space to process it all, but long story short, it is difficult to cultivate a new relationship in a petri dish.  We are not single-celled organisms.  We are a living breathing family of many organisms and trying to connect in a house full of strangers is extremely challenging and stressful, and there is no normal to be found.

I came away from that visit feeling lonely, dejected, and confused, and the next day when my husband called me, I spent most of the conversation crying. He tried to encourage my by reminding me that he was almost due for his 24-hour pass, but to no avail.  I spent the next several days feeling sullen and angry while dreaming wistfully of returning to "Egypt".

As the weekend of the 24-hour pass approach, I learned that the "conjugal" nature of our visit was on more minds than just mine and my husband's, which was, uhm...awkward.  Several people asked if our kids would be with us on the visit and what we were going to do with them so that we could you know... As it turned out, my sister and her husband were going to be out of town, so they gave us a key to their place (leaving their room to us, the guest room to our girls, and the living room to our boys), and told us to have fun playing house...and we did.  Nuff said!  ;-)

In spite of the weekend's occasional first-date-like awkwardness (like not knowing what to talk about at lunch and my husband waking up before 7 am ready to start the day, and me saying uhm no, I'll be staying in bed until 9 am, but you are more than welcome to stay with me...), it was full of so much awesomeness that I came home fairly bursting with joy!  Highlights included, but were not limited to: walking in the rain with my husband...putting dishes away with my husband...cuddling on the couch with my husband (while watching a ridiculous movie with our children)...laughing, talking, and crying into the wee hours of the morning with my husband...conjugal-ness (not a word, I know) with my husband...breakfast at Starbucks with my husband...grocery shopping with my husband.  (You could substitute almost any activity, and if it included with my husband, my heart would sing!)

But the icing on the cake was on Sunday morning...  We had just finished discussing the "proper" time to get out of bed, and I seemed to have won (apparently I hold more allure than coffee or a shower because my husband elected to stay), but like a ninny, I ruined the victory by beginning to fret about a situation involving our oldest son.  My husband rolled over, took my hand in his, and said, "Let's just pray about it.  God will take care of him." "Uhm," ...stunned silence... "okay," was my reply, as I curled into his chest and closed my eyes...

He had me at, "Let's just pray..."

“...a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”  (Proverbs 13:12)

Day 55: Bittersweet...

Today my 13-year-old observed our neighbors hanging their Christmas lights outside, and before I knew it, he was up on our roof attempting to hang ours. This was something that my husband always did, as he fancies himself a bit of a "Clark Griswold", but he will not be here this year to deck our halls. Bitter. My 13-year-old is definitely his father's son, as evidence by his stout-hearted attempt to fill his father's shoes.  Sweet!

Tonight I attended my cousin's wedding -- a wedding that I had originally been asked to sing in, but declined because it fell on one of my husband's visitation days.  My cousin's new husband is in the military, and his orders were recently changed, so the wedding was rescheduled and held a month early, freeing me to attend.  I am so thankful that I stuck with my original decision not to sing because I was far more emotional during the ceremony than I had anticipated. Bitter.  The wedding was beautiful, and my cousin is now married to a kind, caring young man. Sweet!

Day 52: Longing for "Egypt"

During the 40 years in which the Children of Israel wandered in the wilderness, there were times when they longed to return to Egypt.  In Exodus 14:12 with their backs against the Red Sea they said:

"...It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!"

In Exodus 16:3 when they had no food to eat they said:

"...If only we had died by the LORD’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted...."

And in Numbers 20:5 when they had no water to drink they said:

"Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to this terrible place? It has no grain or figs, grapevines or pomegranates. And there is no water to drink!"

In each instance, the children of Israel had grown weary and frightened.  They had no idea where they were going, they had forgotten what they had been delivered from, and all they wanted to do was go home.  The Promise Land seemed vague and mysterious, and crazy as it may seem, they longed for the false-security of their bondage in Egypt.

Confession: As much as I hate to admit it, in the past few days I have found myself longing to return to "Egypt".  I am weary and frightened.  I have no idea where we are going, I can't remember the former chaos that led to this separation, and I just want my old life back.  I don't want to keep trudging through the wilderness and making trips over the mountains every two weeks. The turmoil of our former lives has faded into the background, and I find myself longing for the "good ol' days".  Except that they weren't good, but like the Israelites, I am prone to wander and apt to forget.

And where was God in the midst of the Israelites' short-sighted wandering?  In spite of their fear, their complaints, and their doubt, God parted the Red Sea, rained down manna and quail from heaven, and brought forth water from a rock (on more than one occasion!).  He led them, fed them, protected them, and even blessed them!  Nehemiah recounts it well:

"You divided the sea before them, so that they passed through it on dry ground....  In their hunger you gave them bread from heaven and in their thirst you brought them water from the rock....  Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them in the wilderness. By day the pillar of cloud did not fail to guide them on their path, nor the pillar of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take.  For forty years you sustained them in the wilderness; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen.  You gave them kingdoms and nations.... You made their children as numerous as the stars in the sky.... They ate to the full and were well-nourished; they reveled in your great goodness."  (Nehemiah 9:11, 15, 19, 21-23, 25 NIV)

And so, in spite of my current struggles, I will stay the course and in time, I believe my longing for "Egypt" will cease.  Until then, I will trust in the God of the Israelites to guide us to our promise land and pray fervently that we don't manage to find a way to turn 1 year into 40!

Day 45: This is not a sprint...

While gearing up for my third trip over the mountains to see my husband this coming weekend, it dawned on me that this is not a sprint; this is a marathon, and I am ill prepared.  I have not trained properly for this race.  I am running at a sprinter's pace, and I am growing weary.

I am a sprinter by nature, both physically and mentally.  Physically, I have bulky, fast-twitch muscle fiber.  I was a jumper and sprinter in high school, and I have never understood the distance mentally.  Jogging irritates me, and as far as I'm concerned, any distance over 200 meters requires a motorized vehicle of some sort or at the very least, a bicycle!

Mentally, I must have fast-twitch grey matter.  Those who know me well will confirm that there is nothing slow about me (except for the way I wake up in the morning...).  I talk fast, I move fast, and I think fast. Several years ago my brother-in-law marveled that in order to talk as fast as I do, my brain had to be working even faster!

Yet in spite of my natural bent toward speed, Ecclesiates 9:11 reminds me that:

"...The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong..."

When life gets overwhelming and challenges arise, God does not call us to be bigger, faster, or stronger.  In fact, in Matthew 11:28-30, God invites us to rest:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Not only does God invite us to rest, but he invites us to learn -- to train, if you will.  And train, I must, for only He can prepare me to run the race that has been set before me, and this race is definitely not a sprint!

Are you going to be here now?

My father once had an uncle who was developmentally disabled.  He spent most of his life in a group home, and we would visit him from time to time during my youth.  Because of his disability, the things that this uncle said rarely made sense, but he would frequently ask, "Are you going to be here now?"  Such a probing question from one who may never have really understood its depth.

Today I came across the video below.  It was created by a man named Blaine Hogan, and it is simply brilliant.  I encourage you to watch the video and then ask yourself, "Am I going to be here now?"  I pray that the answer is yes.

Day 40: Hope deferred...

We were supposed to go see my husband this weekend, but the visitation schedule has been changed.  And as much as I appreciate an unexpected weekend at home (I am not a go-er by nature.),  I can't help but wonder if this week's outburst might have something to do with knowing that I would not be able see my husband as anticipated.

Proverbs 13:12 says:

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

Perhaps my heart has been a little sick and sad due to the schedule change. By the time I see my husband again, three weeks will have passed -- our longest separation since we married.  And yet, there are military wives and mothers all over the world who are not able to see (or even speak!) to the men they love for weeks, months, or even years...and some are never seen again.

I am humbled and amazed by these women whose longings may never be fulfilled in this life. And I find that reminding myself of their sacrifices brings my sadness in to proper perspective.

Am I still sad?  A little.  But I have every reason to believe that my longings, both in the near and distant futures will be fulfilled...in HIS time.

Day 38: There are worse families than ours?

On the heels of my mega-meltdown last night involving my 13-year-old, my 17-year-old tried to console me with the following words of encouragement:

"Mom, there are worse families than ours."  

"Really?"

"Yeah, Mom, WAY worse!"

I feel SO much better...I think.

Day 37: The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night...

Tonight I was planning to write about what a great week I had last week, but then things went horribly wrong.  My 13-year-old made me extremely angry, and I completely lost the victory.  COMPLETELY.  I said and did things that I am not proud of. (No need to call CPS.  The child is unharmed; however, we now have two fewer ceramic cereal bowls...)  And after my epic tantrum, I ran away...literally.  (I actually ran two blocks to my friend's house!  Very mature.)

My friend was able to talk me off the ledge (She has become quite skilled at it, having done it many times before.), and after about half an hour or so, I was ready to go home.  But as I was walking home, I saw one of my older boys pull up in the drive, so I did what any mature adult would do -- I ducked into the post office and hid.  Why?  I'm not sure.  Perhaps to give my other older son (who had witnessed the meltdown) time to download the evening's events without fear of reprisal.

It only took a couple of minutes to realize just how ridiculous it was for me to be hiding in the post office and just how awkward it would be to be discovered by an unsuspecting, late-night postal patron all tear-stained and miserable, so I did what an actually mature adult would do and left the toasty warmth of the post office lobby, braved the chill of the autumn night air, and trudged home to face the music.

When I arrived at home, I threw open the door and without saying a word, I marched right past my 17-year-old and my 19-year-old (who were still discussing what to do with a "mother gone mad") and took myself directly to my room.  As I marched to my room, I happened to notice that my four youngest appeared to be asleep (or cowering)  in their rooms.  I threw myself on my bed in a heap of despair and waited.

After an indeterminate amount of time (Time loses it's meaning when you're a horrible parent.), there was a faint knock on my door.  I bid the brave knocker enter. It was one of my 19-year-olds.  (We have two -- one by birth, one by choice.  One is still home.  One is away at college.)  Apparently it was his lot to try to appease me, since my 17-year-old had cleaned up the remains of the cereal bowls.  19-year-old asked if I was okay.  I said no.  He was very patient and kind as he tried to reason with me, but then his iPhone rang, and well, you now what that means -- later mom!

Still feeling desolate, I went downstairs to talk to my 17-year-old.  Before I got too close, I assured him that I was not crazy.  He looked at me warily and invited me to continue.  I made my case; he made his, and then 19-year-old came down.  The three of us talked for some time.  Both boys made some very astute observations.

19-year-old had asked me earlier in the day why I had been in such a funk the past few days.  I told him that I hadn't been in a funk and that I had, in fact, had a wonderful week last week, but he obviously saw something that I didn't, as evidenced by my anger which came out of nowhere and completely blindsided me.  He told me that there was more going on than just overreacting to my 13-year-old's childish disobedience.

17-year-old went on to say, "It's too soon, Mom."  "Too soon for what?" I asked. "Too soon to freak out."  "Oh."  I said.  "When will it be time?"  "Six months," he said and then, "A year is a long time..."

And in less time than it took for me to "freak out", my big boys had gotten to the heart of the matter.  Yes, my 13-year-old was out of line, but there is more going on here, and a year is a long time.  Before I left to go back upstairs, my 17-year-old told me that he didn't want me to cry myself to sleep. I told him I wouldn't, but I probably will...

(PS:  After talking with my older boys, I woke my 13-year-old up and told him that I loved him and that I was very, very sorry for the way that I had behaved.  He seemed to accept my apology and told me that he loved me, too. We'll see how he feels about me in the morning.)

October 2011

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words.  How about 22 pictures?

Make God Proud!

In Bible study last night, I was challenged by the words of a young mother (and newer Christian) in our group. We are currently studying the book of Daniel, and we were discussing how difficult it can be to maintain personal integrity in today's world. In the midst of our discussion, this young mother said that each day as her girls leave the house for school she says to them, "Make God proud!"  

Wow!  What if the guiding principal of our lives was to simply make God proud? What if every thought, every word, and every deed passed through this filter before being released to the world?

Not only did I receive a timely word last night regarding personal integrity, but I was also reminded that as "older" Christians we have to be careful not to be dismissive of those who have not walked with the Lord as long as we have -- those who may not posses as much biblical knowledge as we do, or who may not have as many stars on their church attendance record as we have -- because God can (and will!) use even the babes among us to teach us a thing or two.

Thank you, young mom, for sharing this simple, but godly wisdom not only with the next generation of young moms, but with we "old" moms as well! The next time I kiss my husband goodbye or send my kids on their way, I will remind them (and myself!) to MAKE GOD PROUD!

Resolve

While doing my homework this morning in preparation for tonight's Bible study in Daniel, I read the following:

‎"...godliness is never accidental. Neither is victory coincidental. Both stem from up-front, daily resolve." (Beth Moore)

Lord, strengthen my resolve and help me to walk daily in your will.

Day 28: Visitation Blues

28 days down...337 more to go... (Oh wait...338... 2012 is a leap year...nice...)

4 weeks down...48 more to go...

2 visits down...22 more to go...

1 month down (almost)...11 more to go...

Anyway you slice it, we still have a long way to go, and I'm feeling blue.

This visit was more difficult than the last visit -- probably because I am experiencing the flip-side of PMS (ovulation, for those of you who are a little slow on the uptake), and, as you might imagine, ovulation is no fun by yourself. (Perhaps that's a little too much information, but we're all adults here, right?)

Honestly, I spent most of the visit feeling like I was going to get busted for excessive PDA (public displays of affection), and twice my husband and I actually hid behind a tree so we could make out!  (Did I mention that my husband is HOT?!  And who knew that at 41 you could still feel like you're 15?! Want to feel young again? Send your spouse to rehab!)

I was in such a funk after our visit that I talked my sister into a little shopping therapy before dinner and ended up with two new tops and a pair of skinny jeans...at 41! (Yes, it is quite possible that I may be having a mid-life crisis, but at least now both Sam and I can "gansta walk" across a parking lot in our skinny jeans!)

After shopping, we returned to my sister's house where I gorged myself on Little Caesar's breadsticks and Mountain Dew (and one Reese's Peanut Butter Cup) and fell asleep watching "The Nightmare Before Christmas", courtesy of my brother-in-law (nothing like a little Tim Burton to cheer you up!).

The kids and I are now safely home, and in addition to my skinny jeans, I now have not one, not two, but four GPSs, one of which shall be returned to my uncle, one which is broken, one which goes back to my sister, and one which shall be forever mine.

(Interesting thing about my new/used GPS, it was pre-programmed with a voice labeled "Dr. Nightmare" that was so creepy it actually startled me several times while guiding me home.  Any time I took a wrong turn it actually said, "Let me consult my magic book", in a disturbingly ominous voice, and once it even told me that a black cat had crossed my path!  And NO, I am NOT kidding! Sam tried to delivered me from the torment of the dreadful voice by resetting the GPS to sound like one of Santa's elves.  Not good.  We eventually settled on a feminine voice with a lovely British accent.)

PS: It's okay to laugh. My life is ridiculous...

Day 23: Hope Restored

Things are getting back to better around here.  Today I took our four youngest kids on a home-school field trip.  Then we met my oldest son at his college, and I helped him work out some of the current kinks in his life.  Then, after a quick trip to Walmart, I stopped at Starbucks and got a caramel white mocha for the drive home.  All in all, it was a pretty good day.  Hope has been restored.

Day 22: Boundaries, so far...

The "Boundaries" book is kicking my gluteus maximus.  I'm only on page 42, but here is what I have gleaned so far:

"People with poor boundaries...feel that if they say no to someone, they will endanger their relationship with that person, so they passively comply but inwardly resent." [Ouch!  Guilty.]

"Emotional distance is a temporary boundary...it is never a permanent way of living."  [Oh, uhm, note to self...]

"To rescue people from the natural consequences of their behavior is to render them powerless."  [Guilty again.]

As you may have surmised by now, I am, indeed, an enabler. Oh, boundaries...how I love hate need thee...

---

(All quotes taken from "Boundaries" by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend)

Day 21: Bad Day

Today started off innocently enough.  I tried to put my mean-spirited in-law's tirade behind me, but I was still feeling a bit melancholy.  Then my friend went home and took her sunshine with her, but my kids and I busied ourselves with finishing up my daughter's room by painting the closet (the only part of the room my friend would trust me with!) and tearing up the old carpet.

About an hour into our project, my brother arrived to help with the "man stuff" like carrying out the old carpet, hanging my daughter's door, and constructing my daughter's antique brass bed.  All was well, until my husband called, and I found out that his week had been almost as horrible as mine.

He loves us, and he misses us, and he had such a cruddy week that he thought about bagging it all and coming home.  And I love him, and I miss him, and I had such a cruddy week that I thought about begging him to come home. But he doesn't want to be a quitter, and I don't want him to quit, and he spent a good part of the conversation saying, "Don't cry, baby.  I love you. Please don't cry.  It will be okay."  So I didn't cry...until I hung up.  Then I locked my bedroom door and fell apart.

It took me a little while to regain my composure, but I did, and I got back to work on the bedroom project.  Then the phone rang, and it was my oldest son who is away at college.  He was tired and discouraged and worried about one of his classes, and all he wanted to do was come home.  But his vehicle broke down last week, and he has no way to get home.  And my heart ached for him, and I just wanted to give him a big hug, but he's there, and I'm here, and all I could do was tell him that I love him and I'm praying for him.

After getting off the phone with my oldest son, I went to go pick up my 17-year-old son, who had gone with his best friend last night to be with him at the hospital while his mother died.  I am SO proud of my son for being there in that way for his friend, but I hurt for him, too.  Who does that at age seventeen? (My son's friend's mother didn't die last night; she died today on her son's birthday.  And my heart aches for him, as well...)

And every where I looked today there was pain, and heartache, and grief, and trauma, and loss, and I don't think that I can do this...except that in the midst of it all there was laughter, and love, and beauty, and hope.  So maybe, just maybe, I can do this after all...

Day 20: Good Day...Mostly

Today was a pretty good day…mostly.  I started the day with orange rolls (can’t go wrong with those!), and proceeded to counseling (which was awesome!), followed by grocery shopping, and lunch at Subway with my 17-year-old…so far, so good.

Then,  in the afternoon, one of my close friends came in from out of town to help me paint my daughter’s room.  My friend is the BEST.  If any room in my house shows even a hint of intentional design, it is almost always because of her. (The house is NOT my thing.  I’d rather live outside in a tent.  No, really, I would!)

Not only was my friend in from out out town, but so was my sister, and she graciously agreed to take all of my younger kids as well as my friend’s son roller skating, leaving my friend and I to finish the project and enjoy some “girl time”.

My friend and I, or rather my friend (she rarely relinquishes a brush to me) finished painting in record time, and we enjoyed a lovely dinner of chicken salad and breadsticks that I had prepared (that’s the deal, you see…she paints, I cook).

After dinner my friend got a phone call, and I found myself wandering aimlessly around my eerily quiet house.  I got to thinking about the fact that I hadn’t gotten a letter from my husband yet, and I became sad.  Then I remembered that no one had gotten the mail, so I went across the street to the post office, hoping and praying that there would be a letter from my husband…and there was!  I was so excited that I didn’t even wait to get home to read it; I read it right there in the post office.

I returned home happier and lighter, and my friend and I went out to rent a chick flick and buy junk food.  The junk food was great, but the movie, although cute, had a romantic subplot that put me in a little bit of a funk.

The kids got home just as the movie was ending and after we got them all settled for bed, I decided to check my email.  BIG MISTAKE!  There were two messages from my misguided in-law, the first of which was so mean-spirited that I ended up in my bathroom bawling my eyes out as quietly as possible so as not to disturb anyone.  The second email was an apology, but the damage was already done, and I crawled into bed wearing my husband’s t-shirt feeling completely forlorn...

Day 19: Boundaries

I just started reading "Boundaries" by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend again for the third time, only this time I intend to finish it!  It has become abundantly clear that I have walls where gates should be and gates where walls should be.  Lord help me...  The learning curve is going to be steep!

Day 18: Opposition

For the past two days I have been dealing with opposition from one of my husband's family members.  This family member has accused me of not taking my husband's issues seriously, criticized our choice of faith-based solution, and went so far as to say, "He can keep his faith in his back pocket and if he needs it then it's there."  (Oh, SNAP!)

After a lengthy email exchange this morning, I was finally fed up.  I was so angry that I was literally shaking -- kind of like Bruce Banner before he turns into the Incredible Hulk -- only my PMS/rage-induced metamorphosis typically transforms me into a hydra, a fearsome mythical beast with multiple heads that breath fire, and for every head that is cut off, two more regrow. Not pretty, I assure you.  (Watch the museum scene in "Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief.)

Fortunately for our unsuspecting "hero", this hydra has been sick and weak from caring for her young, and she wasn't sure if she could (or even if she should) fight this battle, so she called a smaller, more delicate hydra-in-Christ for advice. (Don't let her size fool ya...she is every bit as fearsome!)  My hydra-friend was in faith-filled, human form and was able to talk me off the ledge and return me to my right-minded, do-no harm self.

Now I know that the "weapons of our warfare are not carnal" (2 Corinthians 10:4 KJV).  I know.  I know.  I KNOW! But boy, howdy did I want to get my carnal on!  I was locked and loaded and ready to engage as a weapon of mass destruction and annihilate my non-believing in-law, but instead my precious, mini-hydra friend encouraged me to disengage, reclaim my day, and rest in the peace that only God can give.  But oh, snap! Heracles-wannabes better beware.  I will defend and protect what is mine!

(All humor aside, today has been very difficult, and I would really appreciate your prayers.)

Day 17: It's Okay To Be Happy

During the first week of my husband's absence, I happened to be out and about with our thirteen-year-old son.  He was wearing his skinny jeans that are so skinny I had begun referring to them as "man tights".  He had run into the convenience store at the local gas station to get something, and as he returned, he began to strut across the parking lot doing some sort of "gangsta" walk...in man tights!

Needless to say, I busted out laughing and was gesturing wildly for him to stop. I also happened to be on the phone with our fourteen-year-old daughter at the time.

When we got home, my normally mild-mannered fourteen-year-old accosted me almost as soon as I got in the door and demanded to know why I was laughing, and why I was so happy.  I thought it was odd, but proceeded to tell her about her brother's "gansta strut".  She seemed unimpressed.

It wasn't until later that evening, when one of our older boys mentioned to me that she was taking her dad's absence harder than every one thought, that I understood the questions behind her questions, "Why were you laughing?" "Why are you so happy?"

The next day we had an opportunity to talk, just she and I, as I drove her to catch the bus for her volleyball game.  I asked her how she was doing with her dad being gone, and she said that she was sad and missed the sound of his voice.  I told her that I understood her sadness and that I missed the sound of his voice, too.

Then I brought up her questions from the previous day, and took the opportunity to explain to her that even though we all love and miss my husband very much, it was just as okay to be happy as it was to be sad, because even in the midst of our greatest joys, tragedy still touches us, and even as we walk through our darkest valleys, we can still be surprised by joy.

So someday, no matter how dark, if you see an adolescent boy strutting through a parking lot in man tights, go ahead and laugh, because it's okay to be happy, and "that there's funny, I don't care who you are!"

Day 16: Thoughts on Visitation

Now that I've had a couple of days to process my thoughts on visitation, a few things stand out:

1.  The overwhelming majority of the men at the center are buff. Apparently, after detox, it's time to hit the weights, and hit the weights they do.  My husband will not be able to use the weight room until he has been there for 30 days, but he has lost a little bit of weight (not that he had much to lose) and is already appearing to be more fit.

2.  Candy not only helps with cravings during detox, but it also functions as "currency", much like cigarettes in prison.  As mentioned in a previous post, one of the things my husband requested prior to our visit was candy -- LOTS of candy.  He is now well funded.

3.  There were children everywhere!  I was not expecting that!  I don't know what I was expecting, but not that.  And it struck me that we are not alone in this.  There are other children --  sons, daughters, little brothers, little sisters -- walking the same road as my children.  That revelation made me both happy and sad.

4.  There were very, very few wives.  That broke my heart.

Day 15: Every silver lining has a cloud...

Today I am not feeling well.  My kids' colds finally caught up with me, and under normal circumstance my husband would take over, and I would crawl into bed, and he would make me soup, and kiss me on the forehead and tell me to get better.  But he's not here...

And I realize that I have taken a lot for granted in the past few years.  A load of laundry here and there, an occasional pizza in the oven, and sweeping and vacuuming from time to time really do add up, especially when they are subtracted.

And the hugs...I really miss his hugs, and the sound of his heartbeat, and his chin resting on top of my head.

I hate being sick.  I hate it even more without my husband.

Day 14: Blessed Beyond Measure

We made it home safely from our first trip over the mountains to visit my husband.  Those of you who know me well know that I do not drive long distances.  I do not drive "over the mountains". I do not drive in big cities (during rush-hour, no less!), and I rarely drive over 65, but this weekend I did all of those things, and I must say that I am feeling rather pleased with myself!  (Although I did developed a new appreciation for my husband, "the driver", and I owe a great deal of my traveling success to my dear uncle who generously allowed me the use of his GPS.  I have got to get me one of those!)

After our visit, my sister, her husband, and a couple of their friends created the perfect segue from the unfamiliar back to the familiar by taking us to a local mall with an amazing food court (think United Nations meets fast food!).

My sister and her friend treated all of my kids to dinner, while I eschewed food in favor of Starbucks.  After dinner the guys took the kids on a jaunt around the mall, leaving us to enjoy some girl time, while I nursed my first caramel white mocha of the season.  (It was DIVINE!)

After the mall, my sister, the kids, and I took a tour of her 3rd grade classroom, while her husband returned home and set up a movie night for my kids complete with popcorn, Cheetos, and soda.  (In spite of the fact that he had already spoiled them by taking them to Cold Stone Creamery!)  My kids were still going strong when my sister and I crashed, but my brother-in-law entertained them into the wee hours of the morning!

Then this morning, when I thought the weekend couldn't possibly get any better, I took my kids to Starbucks for breakfast, and they were absolutely PERFECT!  (If you know my children, you now believe in miracles!)

And now that I am safely home, all I can think about is how truly blessed we are.  Mere words cannot express how grateful I am for the people that God has placed in our lives to fill the void left by my husband's temporary, but necessary, absence.

Not only did I have an amazing visit with my husband and perfect children in Starbucks, but God saw to our every need...

He used my uncle and his GPS to guide us on our journey.  (Thank you, D.  My husband is SO grateful that you are looking out for us.)

He used my sister and her friend to fill my "love tank".  (Thank you ladies.  You are like sunshine on a cloudy day.  I treasure your love and support.)

And He used my brother-in-law and his friend to minister to my children.  (Bless you gentlemen!  You have no idea how much that meant to them and to me and how much it will mean to my husband.  You are among the father figures that my children will be looking to during their daddy's absence.)

I am truly blessed beyond measure.

Day 13: A Beautiful Day

Today was a beautiful day.  Not only did we enjoy gorgeous traveling weather, but more importantly, we had a wonderful reunion with my husband.  He is doing so well, and I am so incredibly proud of him!

My husband is now clean-shaven, and he has lost a little weight.  His eyes are clear and bright, and his spirits are good.

Shaving his facial hair was my husband's first real test at the center.  Typically, the men entering the program are required to shave all facial hair, but my husband had worn a goatee since before we met, and he was very worried about what the children might think of him without facial hair.

One of the pastors at the center has a full beard, and he remembered how his young daughter reacted when she first saw him without a beard, so he decided to give my husband a pass.  However, within his first two days at the center, my husband decided to shave out of respect for the other men and as his first act of submission to the recovery process.

Before we left for our visit, I told the kids that their dad had shaved off his goatee.  Their solution -- bringing along fake mustaches to lighten the mood, which they did!  (And just for the record, even without facial hair, my husband is just as handsome as ever!)

There were a few emotional moments during our visit, but most of our time was spent laughing, playing, and catching up with one another.  Blackout is officially over, and we can now visit twice a month, receive weekly phone calls, and send and receive letters.

Today was a beautiful day, and the best is yet to come.  Thank you to all who have been supporting, encouraging, and praying for us.  My husband thanks you, too.

Day 12: Fearing the Medicine

Tomorrow we get to go visit my husband for the first time since he entered treatment, and I'm a little nervous.  (Okay, I'm a LOT nervous!  I have absolutely no idea what to expect.)

Today while reading to the kids from Pinocchio, I came across this line:

"We fear the medicine more than the sickness."

Pinocchio had come down with a dreadful illness seemingly as a result of his own repeated naughtiness, and yet when offered a cure, he glibly crunches sugar cubes and declares that he would rather die than accept the cure, because it is too bitter.

I'm ashamed to admit that I can identify with poor, naughty Pinocchio.  Now that we have begun this journey to wholeness and healing, I find at times that I am more afraid of the cure than the affliction.  I know how to "handle" addiction (if it can be "handled", which it can't), but I have no experience with the treatment, the cure.

I am blessed to have a dear friend who is a chemical dependency counselor, and she has done her best to prepare me for what to expect.  The truth is that two weeks is not sufficient time to completely detox, a fact that was confirmed by my husband's request for copious amounts of hard candy.  (Apparently there is a link between addiction and sugar cravings, which intensify when one begins to go through withdrawal.)

My husband's request for candy seemed charming at first (Of course I'll get you Jolly Ranchers, honey!), until I understood why he was asking; then it broke my heart and served as a stark reminder that he is an addict, and he is detoxing.

My friend also tried to prepare me for how emotional my husband may be, as well as the possibility that he may ask to come home.  That scares me.  It has always been difficult for me to say no to my husband, in fact, that is part of what makes me an enabler (more on that later, MUCH later).  And she STRONGLY recommended that I be ready with an answer if the question does come; an answer that MUST be no.

And so here I sit, on the eve of our first visit, feeling much like Pinocchio, fearing the medicine because it may be bitter, and the sickness is so much more familiar...

Day 11: Momentary Panic

Today my answering machine recorded a collect phone call that seemed to have been initiated by my husband, and after my initial bewilderment, I experienced a few moments of panic.  (Actually, I experienced about 23 minutes of panic!)

You see, my husband is still supposed to be in blackout, and he is not allowed any contact until his two-week blackout period is complete, and yet, it appeared that he had tried to place a collect call to me.

My first thought was, "Has he left the program?"  I immediately placed a call to the director of the program, which went straight to voice mail.  Not good.  "Oh my, " my thoughts race, "are they out looking for him...?"

I spent the next twenty minutes wringing my hands, wondering where in the world my husband could be, and if he could truly be AWOL.  Then my cell phone rang.  It was one of the interns from the treatment center, and before he had time to utter a proper greeting, I blurted out,

"Has my husband escaped...?!"

Stunned silence was followed by, "Uhm, no...he's right here."

"Oh," I replied (blood pressure decreasing by several points), "but he tried to call me...".

"Uhm...no," replied the voice on the other line, "I tried to call you."

"Oh,"  I exclaimed (blood pressure going up several points), "is everything okay?!"

"Uhm, yeah.  It's just that this week is visitation, and we had a staff meeting, and because you guys live so far away, we're going to allow you to come visit even thought he won't have completed blackout yet."

"Oh, okay.  Thank you!"

"Yeah, but your husband wants you to bring some things when you come..."

"Oh, okay...so your calling to give me a shopping list?"

"Yeah.  Are you ready...?"

"Uhm, yeah..."

It's nice to know that I'm still needed...even though I'm far away!

Day 10: Maybe Rob Thomas is right...

Today was an incredible day simply because of its sheer, mundane normalcy.  I woke up.  I took care of the animals.  I taught school.  I paid bills.  I went to the post office.  I checked in on my grandma.  I bought groceries.  I corrected schoolwork.  I made dinner.  I played a game with my kids (again!).  I did dishes. And I didn't cry, not even once!  In short, I had a perfectly awesome, boring, normal day!

All that normalcy got me to thinking about the lyrics to Rob Thomas's "Little Wonders" (you know, the song that nearly caused a meltdown in the supermarket).  The song begins with

"Let it go...let it roll right of your shoulder...don't you know...the hardest part is over..."

And maybe Rob's right -- maybe the hardest part is over.

I know that it has only been 10 days since we began this journey, and Rob and I could be wrong, but I truly believe that the hardest part is over.  And I can honestly say, with a reasonable degree of certainty, that the light at the end of the tunnel is NOT a train!  And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God IS good!

Thank you all for your support, your prayers, and your encouragement.  We are truly blessed!

Day 9: For such a time as this...

Many times in the last several years we have struggled through trials of various kinds, and in the midst of those trials, I have sometimes asked, "Why us?"  "Why this?"  "What are we supposed to be learning?"  "What is God trying to prepare us for?"  And I must confess that at times I have been more than a little frightened by the potential answers to those questions.

A few weeks before my husband entered treatment, we were bombarded with one crisis after another.  My husband had lost his job two months earlier and was devastated to learn that a promising new job opportunity had fallen through.  During the same week we discovered that our vehicle needed two new ball joints, four new tires, and an alignment, and then my horse came down with acute colic and died -- all in one week!

In the two days during which I tried to keep my horse alive, I talked frequently with a close friend.  During one particularly difficult conversation when I was trying to decide whether to euthanize the horse or not, I broke down and cried, "Why?  Why is God allowing this?  He knows I can't take any more.  What does He want from me?  What is He preparing me for that I have to be this strong?"  The next day the horse died.

As I look back on the difficulties of that week, I can now see God's loving hand.  God knew that my husband would be going away, and He was already preparing us to journey through a wilderness that we could not yet see.

If my husband had been offered the job that he was hoping for, he would not be in treatment getting healthy and whole.  If we had not discovered the vehicle repairs that needed to be made, I would have been left to deal with them myself.  And if God had not taken my horse, I would have had one more burden than I am currently able to bear.

It hurt me to watch my horse suffer, and it hurt God to watch me suffer.  But God knew what He was doing.

The truth is, that I was planning to try to find a new home for the horse even before I knew that my husband would be going away.  She had been a gift horse that had had health issues since the day she was gifted, and because of her health issues, I was nervous about finding a new home for her, afraid that the new potential owners would be unable to care for her properly.  I wasn't ready to let go, and I begged God to save her, but because He loves me, God said, "No", and relieved me of a huge responsibility.

My husband was devastated when he was not offered the job he had hoped for.  He was so excited about the opportunity and desperate to get back to providing for us, but because God loves him, God said, "No", and eliminated any excuse for not going to treatment.

We had money in the bank when we discovered that our vehicle needed extensive maintenance and repairs, but that's not how we wanted to spend it, but because God loves us, He said, "Now", because He knew that very soon there would be no money in the bank and no breadwinner to win bread.

And now that I look back, I can see that God was at work in the midst of all my pain and frustration and fear -- not just during that particular week, but so many, many times before -- and through each trial He was preparing us for such a time as this...

Day 8: Blessing in Disguise

Yesterday I confessed to feeling completely overwhelmed.  Today I awakened to a 12 item to-do list, a full day of homeschooling (4 students, 7 subjects, do the math!), a grandmother to tend to, a taillight in need of repair, a possible trip to "town" (50 miles away), a volleyball game in the afternoon (9 miles away), a soccer game in the evening (25 miles away), and two very sick kids.  I also awakened to a fresh reminder that God loves me beyond measure and has planned every detail of my life to perfection!  Let me explain...

Most days I feel like hamster on a wheel -- racing frantically at breakneck speed, but never getting anywhere.  And some days I toy with the idea of leaping off the wheel, with little regard for life and limb.  That's where I was yesterday.  But today I woke to two sick kids, and the wheel slowed to a stop.

I hate that my kids are sick, but I love that God know exactly how to stop my wheel.  There have been other times in my life when God has used sickness, cancellations, breakdowns, snowstorms, and the like to stop my wheel because I wouldn't.  And I love that He loved me enough to give me sick kids today in order to make me stay home -- in my pajamas, no less!  (The kids and I were just showing our school spirit; after all, it is spirit week at the middle school, and today was pajama day!)

And how was my day?  Well, I completed 10 of the 12 items on my to-do list, taught a full day of school, trusted God to take care of my grandma, cancelled my trip to "town", sent my daughter to her volleyball game (They won!), skipped my son's soccer game (because he was sick), and made chicken noodle soup for dinner!  Not only that, but my uncle fixed my taillight (Thanks, Duane!), I had a wonderful visit with my brother, I played games with my kids for the first time in a long time, and the sick are being made well!

Yep, God is good...even to stubborn little hamsters like me!

Day 7: Do the Next Thing

For the last couple of days I have been feeling completely overwhelmed.  I am really starting to notice my husband's absence, and the burden of responsibility for my entire family is weighing heavily on me.  I feel pressed in on every side, and I actually ache physically.

In counseling on Saturday, my counselor encouraged me to really feel what I'm feeling, but it hurts, and I find that I am becoming frustrated and irritable.  I don't know how I can possibly take care of everything that is now my responsibility.  I can't do it all, and I feel like I may burst into tears at any moment.  I'm sorry.  You've been warned.

In the week before my husband entered treatment, I found myself paralyzed in the supermarket fighting back tears because of a stupid Rob Thomas song that was playing over the sound system.  ("Little Wonders", if you must know.)  I couldn't move, and I could hardly breathe as the reality of my husband's imminent departure came crashing down on me.

The only thing that saved me from melting into a puddle of tears was something I heard Elisabeth Elliot say on the radio years ago, "Do the next thing."  And at that moment, the next thing was finding the Clorox Wipes, because they were on sale for $1.99.  (Praise the Lord for Elisabeth Elliot and Clorox Wipes!)

But here I am again, where the only step is the next step. And I must confess that this is getting really hard.  And in spite of all the heartache and chaos of the last several years, I miss him...

Day 6: FAQ

I suspect that some of you may have questions, so today I will attempt to provide answers.  Consider this my FAQ post.

Where is your husband?

As stated in an earlier post, my husband has entered a faith-based, residential program for the treatment of chemical dependency and other life damaging issues.  The facility where he resides is located on the west side of the state.  We are declining to give more specific information at this time, just know that he is in good hands.

Why is he there?

For the better part of our fourteen-year marriage, my husband has struggled with addiction to marijuana and prescription pain killers.  When I married my husband, he was clean, but over the years, a predisposition to chemical dependency, a prior history of recreational use, devastating loss, multiple surgeries, and a myriad of poor choices have created the perfect storm of addiction.

Will you able to contact or see him?

YES!  But not yet.  My husband is currently going through what they call "blackout" -- a two week period when new entrants adjust to life away from home, learn the ins and outs of the program, and detox.  Once my husband has completed blackout, we will be allowed to visit him twice a month.  He will also be able to make phone calls to family each Sunday and send and receive mail from authorized contacts.  (Please do not be offended if you are not on the contact list.  It is restricted to family and clergy ONLY.)

What about finances? Who's paying for all of this?  What about you?

We have an amazing family, incredible friends, a wonderful church body, and we serve a GREAT God!  In short, we are blessed beyond measure!  God has provided all that we need for this day and this month, and I have no doubt that He will continue to do so.  Thank you to each and every one of you who have been His hands and His feet to us.  May God bless you richly!

And probably the most pressing question of all:

How are your children doing?

Remarkably well.  In fact, better than expected...so far.  When my husband sought counsel about entering treatment, it was recommended that we tell the children right away and be completely honest about why he would be going away.  That was quite possibly the wisest counsel we received, and as a result, our children had almost a week to prepare for his departure.  During that time, they each wrestled with his leaving in their own way -- some more constructively than others -- and now that he is gone, they continue to wrestle, but all in all they are doing well.  Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers.

What can we do to help?

That's easy...pray, pray, PRAY!  And please be gracious to us as we make our way through this wilderness.

Day 5: Truth

A few days before my husband entered treatment, I asked him how he wanted me to handle questions from the community, and he replied, "Tell the truth."

People are naturally curious, and people will talk.  My husband and I decided that we would rather have people talk to us than about us, or at the very least talk about the truth.

Interesting thing, telling the truth; it is incredibly freeing.  As startling as it may be to some for us to be so candid, several positive thing have already come from our choosing to be vulnerable.

First and foremost, I have been completely humbled and overwhelmed by the number of people who genuinely care about the health and well-being of our family. (My husband would be overwhelmed, too, but he is unaware, as he is currently in "blackout".  More on that later.) Thank you one and all for being so gracious!  (You know who you are.)

Second, telling the truth kind of takes the wind out of the sails of people who are predisposed to being malicious.  There's much less fear of gossip or embellishment (or what people might say to your kids) when you choose to tell your story yourself.

Third, believe it or not, being open about our current struggle has made it much easier for me to be in public.  I don't have to pretend that nothing is wrong; there's no "elephant in the living room", so to speak.

On a practical note, writing to this blog keeps me from having to repeat the same information over and over again, which is emotionally exhausting.  Every time you try to bring someone up to speed when you are going through a trial, you end up reliving the events that you are sharing and having to deal with the fresh emotions of the listener, be they empathy, anger, pity, or concern, and that can really set you back, even if you had initially been okay.

Truth opens the door to authentic relationships.  Relationships suffer when we edit our stories for public consumption; and make no mistake, the public will consume.  So what shall we feed them?  Authentic, sometimes hard-to-swallow truth, or shallow, candy-coated nonsense?

The choice is yours, but we choose truth, and our prayer is that this journal will not only serve as a reminder of where we've been and all that God has done for us, but also provide hope and encouragement to anyone who may be wandering through a wilderness of their own.

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."  (John 8:32 NIV)

Day 4: The Tie

Today my 13-year-old son noticed a box of my husband's ties on our kitchen counter and said, "Mom, how do you tie a tie?"  My first response was, "Go ask your Da...", and then I paused and said, "We'll ask Dad when we visit him."

I saw that he had tried to tie one of the ties himself without much success, and I fought back tears as I showed him how to retie it.  He asked me how I knew how to tie a tie so well, and I said, "Your daddy taught me."

For the next twenty minutes, my son sorted through my husband's ties and practiced tying several of them himself.  Then he asked which one was his dad's favorite.  I thought that was curious, and I asked him if he would like to keep one of the ties, as I was planning to mail the rest to my husband since he had forgotten them.  He said yes, but then added that he didn't want to take his dad's favorite.

After I pointed out my husband's favorite, I left to run an errand.  When I returned I found that my son had selected a tie, which he proudly wore for most of the rest day.

Claiming a piece of my husband's wardrobe brought my son so much joy, but it broke my heart, and today marks my first truly difficult day...all because of a simple tie.

Goodbye homework, hello homeschool...

Sam was suspended from school today due to an unfortunate incident with an air-soft gun.  It wasn't his gun, and no one was hurt, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time (he's gifted in that way), and apparently public schools takes "weapons" very seriously.

Sam will be suspended (along with three other students) until the start of the new semester in January. The circumstances surrounding Sam's suspension are so random that I can't help but wonder if this is part of God's plan for this season in our lives. And while I wonder, I'm waiting for the reality TV crews to show up and start filming the train wreck of our lives...

Fun Fact: Jesse predicted that Sam wouldn't last two weeks in public school.  Sam lasted exactly 29 days.

Day 3: Coping

Today was challenging to say the least.  I tried to homeschool while babysitting a 5-year-old, my 13-year-old was suspended from public school until January, and I had words with my 19-year-old who is away at college.

At one point during the day I found myself wondering just how much God thinks I can handle.  He certainly seems to have more confidence in my coping ability than I do.

Day 2: The smoke is clearing...

Today was weird.  I didn't sleep well last night.  My youngest daughter and her little dog slept with me, but they were unable to fill the space where my husband used to lie.  He is big and warm and still when he sleeps.  They are small and restless.

Most of the day I stumbled around like a zombie -- not the flesh eating kind, but the ambulatory comatose kind.  (Maybe that's a mummy...?)

It's not that my husband has never been away from home before, but this is different.  I feel empty.  It's almost as if the smoke is clearing after a long battle, and I'm not quite able to grasp what I am seeing.

And it's so quiet.  There has been so much chaos for so long.  I like the quiet, and that makes me feel guilty.

And today, if you were to ask me how I am doing, I would say fine, and mean it, because today I don't feel anything, and that makes me feel guilty, too.

But the smoke is still clearing, and I suspect the feelings will follow soon enough...

Day 1: Goodbye...

Today I said goodbye to my husband of 14 years.  He has entered a faith-based, residential program for the treatment of chemical dependency and other life-controlling issue.  He will be gone for one year.  Pray for him.  Pray for me.  Pray for our children.

Back to (Home) School

Tomorrow is our first day back to home school.  I'm down one student this year, which is a little bittersweet.  Sam seems to be adjusting well enough to public school, but now we need to adjust to home school without Sam.  In some ways, the days are likely to go more smoothly, but Olivia is already anticipating that they might not be quite as much fun.  She misses her brother, and for good reason--he's the only one who really "gets" her!

Unleashing the Beast

Tomorrow is Sam's first day back to public school after being home schooled for four years.  I must admit that I feel a  bit guilty, as if I am unleashing a savage beast upon an unsuspecting populace.  It's not as though Sam is a savage beast per se, but Sam is...Sam.  

While home schooling last year, Sam typically got up between 9:30 and 10 (because there is wisdom in letting sleeping Sams lie) and once awake, Sam was rarely clothed and in his right mind.  In fact, he frequently spent entire school days shirtless.  (Apparently his body temperature runs in excess of normal.)  And often, within a couple hours of beginning his school day, Sam would suddenly collect  his schoolwork and make a bee-line for the greenhouse, where he claimed he could concentrate better in solitude.  (Quite frankly, we also were able to concentrate better with Sam in the solitary confines of the greenhouse!)

All of that to say, I have no idea how Sam is going to make the transition from his free-wheeling, bohemian life as a former home schooler to the structure of public school.  I hope he survives.  I hope they survive.  I hope I survive.  God help us all!

Confessions

Last week was a rough week for my family.  In fact, the past couple of years have been difficult, but last weekend it became evident that we are beginning to crumble under the weight of more than a decade of choices, consequences, and circumstances.  The crazy thing is that we are committed Christians.  My husband and I honestly strive to follow Christ and teach our children to do the same, and yet, our family is struggling...

The saddest thing about all of this is that I know we are not the only Christians who struggle with marriage and family issues.  Unfortunately, it is often difficult to be candid when you're a Christian.  Why?  Because Christians are often hard on each other and many who do not profess faith in Christ are waiting and hoping for those of us who do to fail.  

So what do we do when life is less than perfect?  We withdraw.  We build walls.  We insulate in the name of self-preservation.  We don't seek help.  We don't share.  We just keep building our own private fortresses brick by isolating brick.  But I don't want to do that anymore.  I'm tired of hiding.  I'm tired of fearing what my family, my neighbors, and my "friends" might say if they were truly aware of what was going on in my life.  I'm weary of trying to maintain a functional facade.  There is an ongoing battle between my public persona and my private reality, and I am seriously considering merging the two.

Some may think I'm crazy.  Why would I risk being vulnerable? Well let me ask you this--how can we expect people to marvel at the mountains God moves on our behalf, if they never see the valleys?  How can we can we impress upon others the unimaginable grace that God bestows on us, unless we are willing to reveal just how much grace we need?  How can we reach a lost and dying world with a message of hope and healing, unless they are acquainted with the wounds from which we are healed?  

Don't misunderstand me--I am not advocating the airing of one's dirty laundry for sympathy or sensationalism.  What I am advocating is a willingness to share the less-than-picture-perfect portions of our lives with wisdom and discretion for the edification of others.  I know it's scary, but I believe it's worth it, so I'll go first.  Hi, my name is Kelley.  I am a Christian.  My family and I have been walking through a valley for quite some time now, but I believe the God has good things in store for us.  Your turn...

If you give a donkey a carrot...

Today, while taking a bathroom break from my busy life, I though to myself "What if, instead of dangling the "carrot" before the "donkey", one simply gave the donkey the carrot?  Perhaps the donkey would perform because he wants to, not because he is compelled to..."

Isn't that what Christ does for us--give us the carrot?  Christ died on the cross in order to give us the gift of eternal life!  He doesn't say, "Earn it first, and I may give it to you.", as in the case of the poor donkey who performs the task and still may not receive the reward.  

We have already been given the "carrot" of eternal life through faith in Christ.  Christ's sacrifice was in no way dependent upon our performance, and it is because of this precious, undeserved gift that I choose to serve Him with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.  

Often when dealing with others, we require performance before reward, and in many cases that is not only wise, but necessary.  But what would happen if every once in a while you surprised someone with grace---unmerited favor, unearned trust, unexpected blessing? 

I was recently given a rather substantial carrot, and what a game changer it was!  It transformed my attitude, and I went from performing a necessary task out of a sense of duty to serving with joyful gratitude.

Today, I was presented with the opportunity to bless someone--someone who, quite frankly, does not deserve it.  And that's what got me thinking, "What if I just gave the donkey the carrot..."

Photo Credit

When vs. If

A few days ago, I called a friend because I was in desperate need of some Godly encouragement.  As the waves of discouragement began to roll, I heard myself begin to express one of my heart's deepest desires by saying, "If...".  As soon as the word "if" left my mouth, my thoughts turned to another friend, a friend who never voices heartfelt desires with a qualifying "if", but a definitive "when". This friend is not endorsing some sort of "name it and claim it" weirdness.  She has unshakable confidence in the knowledge that God is holding her heart.

As I shared my epiphany regarding friend B's faith with friend A, we had a little giggle about the fact that in friend B's world there seems to be only two kinds of people--Christians and PRE-Christians, and I realized that if I want to see God move mountains, I need to develop the "when" faith of friend B, even when it seems that God is silent.

---

Thank you, Friend A, for your Godly encouragement!  Your friendship is such a blessing to me.  Thank you, Friend B, for your awe-inspiring "when" faith!  When (not if!) I grow up, I want to be like you!