Friday, October 24, 2014

Truth or...

The last time I played Truth or Dare was with my kids.  It was during one of my our many summer camping nights.  The idea of the game sprung from our adult version with our friends weeks before - on another camping trip, of course.  That's what our summer was all about after all.  Camping.  Memories.  Friends.

It took a bit for the kids to get into the game.  For instance, Michael used the same dare every time.  Finally we told him he should try something new because it was getting boring.  Marie seemed to be completely embarrassed by the game and copied what everyone else was doing.  Denai was in our tent talking to Siri until we confiscated that relationship.  Later we found her half off our blow up mattress snoring soundly.

Playing Truth or Dare with our kids was a different experience from playing with our adult friends.  Something as simple as a kiss on the cheek was an embarrassing dare for Marie.  For Michael, I dared him to do silly things like lick dad's shoe or climb to the top of pile of branches that were near to us.  When it came to licking things, Michael was freaked out.  But game rules prevailed.  And he had a blast.

And that's my five minutes on the word dare.

Click the link below to join!


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Guilt or Conviction?

Ugh.  I'm pretty sure God is trying to "help" me grow and become a "better person."

I say this sarcastically because I'm not liking it.

It stinks. It's difficult.  And frustrating.  Plus annoying. This growing stuff plain stinks and won't go away.

Almost daily I'm contemplating just walking away.  I self-righteously feel like it would be a ballsy move that I would almost be justified in making... Except for the fact that when I think about it I feel a pang in my heart. Conviction. 

Ah, conviction.  How sweet and unassuming you begin.

First, it's knowing in my head; but I can easily ignore that.  Feelings are much more fun to deal with. "Fun."  HA!

Second, that head knowledge starts to infiltrate my mind even AFTER I decided to ignore it.  (And that's just plain rude.)

Then, I let the head knowledge simmer just a bit.  Just enough to acknowledge that I know what I SHOULD do and should NOT do.

Sometimes I make good choices.  Sometimes not so good ones.  This is when guilt tries to come into play; but I do know that guilt is not how God works.  God works in the love and grace department while satan's ambitions are to make us feel all the more worse - and this usually results in more bad choices.

So by grace the guilt is removed and replaced by Godly conviction.

Godly conviction is the urging to do what I don't want to do even though I know it's the right thing to do. Godly conviction doesn't condemn. Instead it reminds me of the goodness of God and that it's something to be shared. 

So here I am.  Conviction is painted all over the place. I'm going to do my best to make the right choice today.  And hopefully I will choose to make the right choice again tomorrow.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

I Am...

Mrs. Sexy.

And we are the Sexy family. 

I'm sure this name makes some people uncomfortable. Some don't care and may even see a bit of comedy behind it.  Then there are pervs.  There are always pervs.  It just comes with having such a
sexy name, I guess.

Obviously, I use pseudo names. When I first started this blog I knew immediately what names to use for my kids. Then it was time to start talking about my husband.  Since he is obviously the Most Sexy Man Alive (he is still waiting for national recognition), Mr. Sexy was born.  After some more writing I decided, why not?  Mrs. Sexy makes total sense.  And then, the Sexy family became our family name.

I use pseudo names in order to protect my family from "trolls" or other unwanted "guests." Now, I do realize that with the name, "sexy," pervs gravitate towards that word.  When it comes to isntagram I have had to do some deleting and blocking.  But other than that, it hasn't been a big issue (knock on wood - or something like that).

I had another blog a few years ago that got a little crazy.

I learned what an internet troll is: a person who happens by your blog once, makes a judgement, and says mean things - at least, that's what I have read as the definition

However this troll took her thoughts too far.  She wrote a blog post dedicated to me for her thousands of followers to read.  She shared my blog address and any other personal information she could find.  This lead to more emails than I care to remember from strangers across the country telling me horrible, terrible, disgusting things.  The one that still stands out the most - mostly because of how ridiculous it is, is this: "You should give your daughter up for adoption."  I mean, seriously.  It made me laugh then and it makes me laugh now.  Because that's the answer to our problems.  We should give them away.  Pretend they don't exist.  Treat them like garbage.  Thanks for the heart felt advice lady!  You are going to miss out on a lot of good things in life with that attitude.

Ahem. Okay.  I'm calming down now.

Anyways things escalated to the local police being notified as well as Child Protective Services.  Our family and friends were getting nasty emails as well.  That was pretty horrifying.  In fact, because of the emails, one of my "good" friends quit talking to me.  Deleted me on facebook.  Not one word.  Although, she de-friend-ed me after sharing my struggles with her friend.  This friend whom I did not know yet lived in my town, emailed me randomly with a long LOOONG story about her own plight with a child with disabilities.  It ended with her kid dying due to a seizure and she felt guilty because she was having a hard time with her kid... Moral: Always give advice to perfect strangers via facebook message because that is the best way to offer a helping hand.  Do you hear any sarcasm dripping from those words?

Wow.  I need to calm down!

So, there you have it.  I use pseudo names and am very protective of where we live.  So far, there have been no trolls on this blog.  But if they do happen by, we will be somewhat more protected.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Long Wasn't So Long

It's not edited.
It's imperfect.
In fact, I think I accidentally wrote too long by about two minutes. So sorry. I just had to finish the story.

We went into the Sprint store two weeks ago in high spirits.  They  had one iphone 6 plus in and it was going to ours!  Or, mine, to be accurate.  We decided to spend the big bucks and do the big upgrade for me now and do his later when it was time for his upgrade. 

So we get there and yes!  They still have one phone left.  Just. For. Me. 

Then we found out Mr. Sexy could get his upgrade at any time.  Cool... But couldn't afford that.  It worked well to space it out by four months. 

Then Sprinters worked their magic and - poof - I had the new phone and we ordered Mr. Sexy's.  For one third of what we were expecting to pay for just one phone. 

Magic, I tell you.  It's magic. 

Mr. Sexy was prepared to wait at least four long weeks for his new toy while I enjoyed every minute of mine. 

A week and half after visiting Sprint, he got THE phone call.  

His long wait was over.  It wasn't even that long!  In fact, his phone came in faster than others who ordered before him.  The Sprinters said they didn't understand.  

For us, it was magic.  

We had spent a long time thinking about the upgrade.  Would the plus be too big?  OMG IT BENDS!!!!   But really? 

Every singe person who has held my phone made a comment about how it was a good choice because the 6 plus is just too big.  Then I tell them they are holding a plus.  Isn't that funny?  It's really not as big as people think. 

Also, it does bend.  With enough pressure in the right spaces, anything can bend.  Even the iphone 5 had comments about bending.  But hey, I'm not going to be bending my phone!  I won't be running it over with my car either.  

There is something so silly about technology.  We all have opinions that are near and dear and there is no other right one.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The Karev Issue

Feeling rejected is the worst.  Especially when it's from someone close.

For me, it was my husband.

I didn't know that's what I was feeling in the moments, though.  I did feel angry and my body language said that much.  But it was late and Mr. Sexy was tired so he gave up and went to sleep.

I stewed for a bit.  Then decided to ask myself, why? What has happened to make me feel angry? 

Hurt was the next emotion that came to mind.  I was feeling hurt.  He went to sleep, after all.  He went to sleep when I wanted to snuggle and kiss on him.

He rejected me. 

Now it's time for some background:

Over and over again I have to learn that sometimes my body language alone does not get my point across to him. Sometimes I have to be a little bit more aggressive.  Sometimes I have to actually say what I want - out loud.  Weird, right? Yet, this is my struggle.

What if I tell him I would enjoy some intimate kissy-face and he declined? 
What if I was more aggressive and he shrugged me off? 
What if...?

These insecurities were not bred from my relationship with my husband.  They were bred from the relationships preceding my husband. 

As Mr. Sexy fell asleep and I struggled with feeling hurt, I dug a little deeper into myself.

When has hurt me in this way? 

Answer: He hasn't.

So why the struggle?  The same struggle for three years?

Fact is, this hasn't been a struggle for only three years.  It goes deeper and wider than that.

As I was deeply thinking all this through, I had Grey's Anatomy re-runs on.  I love that show.  I love almost everything about it.  Because I love it so much, I have gotten really into the characters.  This particular episode revolved around Alex Karev.

Alex Karev has a history of putting up walls that make him appear as something he is not.  When he finally lets someone get through, what they find is a very sensitive person who feels deeply and loves passionately.

I decided that I am a bit like the character Alex Karev. For many - even for members of the family I grew up with - what is seen are the walls I build around myself.  I am labeled as defensive, hard to talk to, unteachable, rude, and I'm sure there are more. So when that's what others see and they tell me so, that's what I start to see as well.

Thank God I have a husband who is able to penetrate those walls and see somebody different.  Somebody he really, really loves.  Somebody he sees as beautiful, loving and caring.  I do put walls back up for him from time to time.  But he knows.  He always knows.  While it isn't easy for us to get past those walls, we are able to do it.  Together.  He sees the me God created me to be. 

God is working on these walls.  He is teaching me that in Him, there doesn't need to be fear. While there will be pain, there will also be joy.  But until I'm willing to stop building, it doesn't look like I will get to experience the joy that only comes from God.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and make me willing to obey you. 

Psalms 51:12

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Scared Naked


It sounded far away through the orange plugs in my ears.

I reached my hand out to touch Mr. Sexy as I often do through a sleepy haze in the middle of the night.  There is something so comforting in touch whether it's a foot wrapped around his leg or my hand lying on his chest.

Instead my hand fell straight to the mattress.

Wow, it's already time for him to get up for work?

But wait, no...that can't be right...

I'm pretty sure today is Saturday. 

Yes!  Today is Saturday.  He should be sleeping next to me and we should remain so until the sun is well in view and the kids are taking turns jumping from the new bunk bed.

Then I realized I heard voices.  But the TV wasn't on.

I'm so confused.

I took out my ear plugs and could hear loud male voices.  One was Mr. Sexy and he sounded...different. Nervous, maybe even a little scared.

Who was the other voice?

It must be our roommate.  

Our roommate!  Something terrible and awful must have happened for him to come back like this!  (He stays with us Monday nights through Thursday nights.)


Then I began to understand some of the words.

"Where is your wife!  We need to see your wife right NOW!"

Now it sounded like a cop.


They're coming to get me! Who would have called them out here in the middle of the night?!?!  I haven't done anything wrong!  At least...I don't think so...

"My wife is sleeping."

"We need to see that she is okay, sir!"

Wait, what?

At this point I ventured out of the bedroom.  (Mr. Sexy later told me NEVER to do that again.  If it had been different, like a murderous hobo, I just put myself in harm's way.)

What I found was: (Don't laugh...ok, laugh a little.  We do.)

Mr. Sexy and his wild sleepy-time hair wearing nothing but boxer shorts and squinting his eyes at the cops.

Cops.  As in plural.

Three cops stood in our doorway, with flashlights out and hands ready to grab their weapons if needed.

What. The. @#$%.  (Pardon my french but seriously.  What. The. You know what's next.)

According to Mr. Sexy, seeing me seemed to confuse the cops and calm them down all at the same time.

I was squinting, too, because somebody thought all the lights needed to be on.  But at least I was wearing clothes.

They asked urgent questions such as:

"What is your name?!"

"What is your phone number?!"

"Is this 456 Parrot Road?!" (I totally made that address up for the sake of crazy internet people.)

They finally relaxed and decided the domestic phone call that had been cut off did not come from our house.  I'm not gonna lie, I was wondering who called 911 in duress from our house.  I sort of thought it could have been Michael...but honestly, that makes no sense now, in the daylight of things.

The cops took off to try the next house on our road - there are only three.

They didn't even apologize.

All we could do for a few minutes was sit on the couch and stare at each other.  I was shaking a bit.  Waking up to cops on the verge of breaking down the door is not normal for us.  But, we are the Sexy family.  Strange things do tend to happen to us.

We don't know what happened after that with the search for the domestic situation.  We hope everything is ok.  Mr. Sexy said he actually appreciated their hostility because had we been that phone call, hostility from the cops would be warranted. Mr. Sexy was almost surprised he wasn't jumped right away.

I bet they were surprised to see such a sexy naked man.

Does anybody else have similar stories?  I would love to hear them.

Now Mr. Sexy and I chuckle when we think about it.  It's crazy.  Absolutely insane.  And now I know: Don't come out without my husband telling me it's okay because what if next time it's a crazy burglar hobo with nothing to lose?

Friday, October 10, 2014

Caring is to...

Here is 5 minutes of unedited writing on the topic:

Does anyone else struggle with caring for other people? 

What about those closest to us?  I don't mean the gushy closeness.  I'm talking about proximity. 

The one(s) we see every day - or nearly every day - and just being in the same room can be ... difficult. 

For me, there seems to be an absence of love. 

I think that's the point of all this, though. 

I think I'm supposed to learn what love means. How it's supposed to look.  How it's supposed to feel. 

Mr. Sexy has shown me a lot over our four years together. 

But I think that with kids comes more, shall we say, opportunities to learn.  Then with Mr. Sexy and I we already had one kid each.  

We threw ourselves together.  Fingers crossed.  Hopes high.  Gushy love swirling around us. 

The gushyies don't last forever.  In fact, the gushies didn't make it past our honeymoon. 

So now, here we are, with another child added to the mix 

I'm still learning and understanding what love is supposed to look like.  And feel like.  And be like. 

And I think, that one day, I will look back the days I'm in now and say, "Ah, she was teaching me to love."

Caring, for me, about people, about those closest in proximity, has been one of my most difficult struggles.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

I Home School

I'm homeschooling.

There are handfuls of people who probably think I shouldn't be homeschooling. I don't know this for a fact as no one has said this directly to me. But I have heard some things.  I also sense the ideas in questions I receive when I talk about Marie.

Those concerns, questions and opinions are battles for me.

Simply going to church is a battle.  Everywhere my family goes there are concerns, questions and opinions.  When these things are brought to my attention, my defenses shoot up high and fast.  This makes me difficult to talk to. I have answers for most questions and concerns that come my way because it all gets repeated.  New town, same story. And that's okay because God is alive in our home.

I don't think I have made it clear how much homeschooling has lessened stress for me at home.

When Marie was in public school, the bus picked her up and dropped her off.  I woke up early to get her showered, dressed and fed. Mornings were the worst for us. I tried many ways to encourage her to pick up the pace and get things done so she would be on time. Lists, pictures, nagging, doing it all for her.  S-T-R-E-S-S

But then I had the entire day to myself. Wooo!!!! Yet by the time 3:30 would roll around I could feel the stress of what was to come creep up on me. What was it going to be today?  Did she eat her lunch on the bus? Did she sneak some nail polish on the bus and eat that instead? Did she pull her hair out of her nice up-do again? What about her "friends?" Did she kick anybody today? Was she disruptive in the classroom again? Are the buttons ripped off her new shirt? There was just about always something that would be wrong. Some of it was minor, as you can see.  But other times it wasn't so small.

After she got home there was a rush of things for me to deal with. Her appearance (torn clothing ect.), the report of her day, finding things in her backpack that aren't supposed to be there, looking at the homework hoping she would understand it.

Between getting home from school and bedtime there was a very small window to deal with what happened in her day, to get her homework done and to eat dinner and go to bed on time.  Forget playing.


Now we home school. It's not perfect.  It's not stress free, by any means. But it's working for us.

We get up leisurely now. Our schooling doesn't have a definitive start and end point.  For instance, this morning she is going to be starting an hour and a half late because I have had a rough morning. There are some days where we don't get to school at all. Don't worry, that doesn't happen often.

Homeschooling is helping to improve my relationship with Marie.  That seems backwards, even to me. While we have our really bad days, we also have good days.  This morning, with Denai sitting on my lap, I asked Marie to refill my coffee cup. That's progress. It's progress for her brain and it's progress in our relationship. When I ask her to do something that is for me, (it's almost a selfish thing) it's a small way that I show I'm willing to accept her and what she has to offer in my life.

While the stress from her public school days are gone, there is still stress being home all day together. She finds things to eat when she feels she won't be caught. (She will actually get up and look through stuff to find something.) If I leave the room, she likes to behave inappropriately - which is really irritating. She struggles with the most basic schooling concepts and I just want her to GET IT. She takes a really long time to learn.

Ultimately, that is why I home school. She takes a really long time to learn.

In math I have spent an entire math working with her on 1 + 0 = 1. I have learned that she learns well visually.  So we use blocks on the carpet to visually see that a number plus nothing equals that same number in the number sentence.  It's hard for her to understand which is frustrating to me because I don't see how it's a difficult concept.  However, she's starting to get it.  Slowly.

So, I home school. It's the right decision for us right now.

Monday, October 6, 2014

The Day She Left Us

Today is another post written by Mr. Sexy.  He is such a hoot and I hope you enjoy reading his perspective of what happens when I leave him and the kids.  Alone.  For two whole nights. 

July 23, 2011
Mrs. Sexy and I haven’t spent much time apart since we've been married.

About two years ago I had to spend three weeks in Hawaii for the Navy Reserves. But besides a night here or there, we have pretty much been at each other’s sides…

Until this past weekend.

Let me explain:

Our church’s annual women’s retreat came around and for the first time, the Sexy family budget and the Sexy family schedule worked together so Mrs. Sexy could go.

I was stoked. Not because I wanted a weekend without the wife, but I knew that without her there to distract me, I would get things done on our house. (and of course I thought she would enjoy it)

Yes, that meant I would be taking care of all 3 kids for the weekend, but come on, how hard could that be?


First off, let me say that I am not the kind of man that comes home from work and slouches down in front of the television waiting for dinner to be served. I pride myself that I don’t spend all of my energy at work. So, when I come home, it's time to turn on the overdrive and see where I can help out. Cooking and cleaning are not far removed from my everyday life.

The weekend began with a drive to Mrs. Sexy’s meet-up point with a little excitement and hesitation of what the weekend would bring.  Even though the kids didn't say much as she departed, the 20 minute drive home was a somber one. The usual loud music and ‘singing’ at the top of our lungs was not on anyone’s mind.

As we pulled up to the house, spirits changed a bit with the promise of Mac-n-Cheese and corn dogs for dinner. (Only healthy eating when dad is in charge!)  While I cooked, Michael and Marie made themselves busy outside while Denai patiently waited for dinner and made it known every five seconds through her lovely wailing how hungry she was.

 Dinner went off without a hitch and only half the kitchen was covered in Denai’s dinner.

Off to bed they all went.

I spent my night restless with all the things I planned to do the next day. I knew Mrs. Sexy would be shocked about how much I got done and would love the progress made on our house.

Not much sleep that night.

Because it was Saturday the lovely little ones decided to sleep in until 6am.  I was determined to start the morning right and promptly got the kids up and dressed for the day.  I broke the news that our normal Saturday routine of free pancakes at a local restaurant would not be happening so Michael decided it was a good time for a breakdown. I didn't handle that well.

I should have started with coffee.

By 8am the kids were enjoying my version of free pancakes and eggs.  The miniature critics approved.

Now, it was time to get started with the projects.

My goals:
-        Detail clean the Kitchen
-        Setup up Living and Dining areas and remove all boxes
-        Setup kid’s room with bunk beds, crib, dressers and move in all kid stuff from garage
-        Clean up outside of miscellaneous stuff that accumulated during the move
-        Organize garage so we can park in it
-        Make butter
-        Find other small projects with my free time…

I sent Marie and Michael out to explore after breakfast and put Denai down for a nap.

This was going great.

I started organizing the kitchen for cleaning and put the cream in the Kitchen Aid to get the butter going.  I randomly heard cries from Denai’s room protesting her nap. With the butter going and the kitchen organized I set out to get the living and dining room cleaned out and setup.

After about 2 hours of wailing and no napping, I decided that it was ok for her to miss one nap and brought her down to ‘help’ me.

With a 17 month old running around, the heavy lifting had to stop, so I tried to entertain her and clean up at the same time. You should know, at work I am the multi-tasking king, but I guess at home that is limited to 2 things at a time…ok, maybe one.

Cleaning and entertaining her didn't go well.

It was finally lunch time and I got the kids setup for lunch. Instead of eating with them I figured I would take this time to move in the dressers and get the heavy lifting done.

Meanwhile the butter was still churning. Halfway through my Saturday and 0 tasks completed.  But it was ok. After lunch the older ones would continue to play and Denai would take a nap.

It amazes me how we can lie to ourselves.

After lunch I tried again with the nap and Michael and Marie went back outside.  I knew this was my only chance to eat so I threw a sandwich together and ate it in less than 5 minutes.

Denai wasn't having it.  The afternoon nap was a failure.

I told myself that it was fine and this would just make bedtime easier and I could get the kids room setup.  So I got Denai up and invited Michael and Marie to help with their room and bunk beds.

Spirits were high, but I was starting to get exhausted.  Every few minutes Denai was angry about something, so I put Marie on Denai duty and had Michael help me carry drawers upstairs. This worked well for the time being.  We got the dressers upstairs and started to put the bed together.

Michael wanted to help, but his way.

Denai was no longer happy with Marie.

Marie was done with helping Denai.

I was about done with the whole day.

Then, Denai fell and Marie watched.  We have seen this before and have tried to work on this with Marie, but this day I felt losing my temper was a better idea.

So, Dad was upset, Denai was upset, Marie’s feelings were hurt and Michael just wanted his bunk bed put together.

Finally, with the bunk bed put together I moved to Denai’s crib.


I was done. The kid’s room could wait.

The smell of sour milk and no butter after 8 hours helped me decide it was time to give up on that dream, so I just stopped the mixer and decided to clean it up later.  As dinner was rapidly approaching I realized I hadn't even thought about what to do.  So I checked the bank account, whew! We had just enough for pizza.

With a quick run to Papa Murphy’s dinner was taken care of.

We painfully chose a movie to watch and enjoyed dinner.  I fell asleep 5 minutes after finishing my pizza although Denai made sure I didn't miss a single movie moment.

After dinner, bathing and bed time commenced with no real incident although Michael couldn't understand why he couldn't sleep in his bunk bed with no mattress.

It was 8:01 PM.

On the Friday Mrs. Sexy left, I figured my evenings would consist of working hard and getting wrapped up with the day’s projects.  However all I could think about was how nice the bed sounded.

Sunday morning came too soon. I wanted to get the kids ready for Sunday school, but with the progression of the morning, I knew I would be lucky to get to the main service on time. I frantically put the house in the best order I could and got the kids ready to go.

Marie was wearing her normal everyday clothes with her hair in a quick pony tail.

Denai was wearing the same Sunday dress she wore last week.

Michael was wearing the shorts he wore on Saturday and was covered in dirt. (This I discovered as we entered the church)

I don’t even know what I wore.

During service I got a text from Mrs. Sexy saying they were headed back.

2 thoughts…


I didn’t even come close to completing my project list.

Who cares?


Before we picked her up we had a few more temper tantrums by all, but when we saw her again it was a big sigh of relief.

I prefaced this blog to say that I am not the typical lazy man and I do quite a bit of work around the house.  This weekend I realized how much work Mrs. Sexy does every day and how important it is to be a team without your spouse.

It may not be clear to all, but I can see the hard work she does each day and the fact that she has any energy for me when I come home is a miracle in itself.

Babe, let’s have another kid.

Disclaimer:  Mrs. Sexy did some line editing and is responsible for the pictures in this post. 

Fear or Obedience?

I logged into blogger this morning with the intent to unpublish my recent post, Girls, Let's Leap!  Then I read some of the comments and I decided, well, this is all part of the story.  So I'm writing instead.

In my current state of mind, I'm embarrassed by what I shared recently.  In the moments I felt led by the Holy Spirit to bring everything I have to the table.  Now, I'm not so sure I heard correctly. I feel like I made a mistake.

Perhaps I need to grow a thicker skin.  I thought I had, but either it's still growing or it wasn't there to begin with.

Perhaps my life is better shared intimately by a therapist, rather than a group of people who don't know me or my family very well. 

I say this over and over again: I try to share my struggles as openly as possible to bring light to the sins, for accountability, and to make it known to others that they are not alone in the harsh  dealings of a fallen world. 

So, I'm constantly torn between fear of the world and obedience to what it seems I'm being led to do. Today, I'm giving in to the fear just a bit.  I'm an imperfect person.  Tomorrow, or even later today, hopefully I will decide to lay that fear at Christ's feet.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Girls, Let's Leap!

I'm sitting in a small group surrounded by women whom I have just met hours ago.  One by one, questions are asked by our leader.  The answers are slow coming and, for the most part, shallow.  Then one takes her leap of faith.  As her story unfolds, I feel tense and motionless. All I can see are her pained eyes and all I can see is  the beauty of her heart yearning for Jesus. As her tears begin to flow I feel my own cheeks warm up and my hands get clammy. This is uncomfortable. Yet I'm still captured by her gut wrenching honesty.  Then she speaks of a deep pain, an emotional burden, and I feel my own eyes fill with hot tears. Of course, I do the fast blinking thing and hope nobody is watching me and the emotions that threaten to bubble to the surface.  I must look away.  My heart can't take much more without a breakdown of my own...

Why is other's pain uncomfortable for the rest of us?

I am inspired to explore this question from Rory's comment on my post, A Process of Healing.

"God sees your heart dear friend... others, mostly see what they want to see, or look right past you because they have their own hurt to hide. Pain makes people uncomfortable, but if we all did better at sharing out burdens: then we could see one another as He does." 

This morning I took my own leap of faith.  I spilled my guts and left nothing out. Every woman listening now knows the truth about me.

I blow up when things don't go right.
Beer or vodka are how I nurse myself through the pain.
I am generally struggling with anger that spills out into every area of my life.
And, obviously, the presence of God feels far from me.

Saying all these things wasn't easy. I felt warm and sweaty all over. My voice felt shaky and I wondered if this was all too much too soon.  I was uncomfortable.

For me, there were a few commonalities in hearing someone's struggle and sharing my own:

Emotional connection.

The last one stands out to me.  Freedom. There is freedom in sharing our lives with each other. The woman I talked about at the beginning gave our group the opportunity to pray for her and watch God work in her heart in those moments and possibly in the time to come.

Did you ever think about it being a blessing to be able to pray for someone so intimately?
I hadn't thought of it that way, either.

But it is, because that's what I was told this morning after showcasing my dirty laundry.

As strange as it seems, even to me, there CAN be freedom in Christ.  I haven't always experienced that freedom, though. But maybe I was doing it wrong.  Or perhaps I had to be THERE to be HERE.

I grew up in church.
I have been loved by church people.
I have been hurt by church people.
Church is made up of people.  One of them is me.

Sharing our burdens is hard.  It's hard to watch and it's hard to do.

But if we can each begin to take our leap of faith, even just one at a time, think about how much stronger the church can be. 

I am not alone in my fits of temper.
I am not the only one who uses alcohol to numb and ignore the pain.
I am not the only angry woman.
I am not the only one feeling far from God.

But with one leap, I am one step closer to a renewed heart.  

So, leap with me girls! 

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Single Issue

My husband was a single dad this weekend.

Dad's kind of breakfast.

He was at home with the kids while I went away for a few nights, He was in no way a "single dad."
Yet, I wonder how many of us refer to ourselves as single parents when the spouse is gone.  Mr. Sexy used to be out of our home daily from 4 am to 7 pm. I was asked if it felt like I was a single parent.  My answer is: Heck no!  My husband came home every night. I texted him all day. He was working and bringing in an income so I could be home with the kids. It was always strange to be asked if I felt like a single parent.

I may hit some hot buttons with this topic.  While it's not a huge deal, it's still something I hear from people and I'm thinking about it today as I left Mr. Sexy with all 3 kids this weekend.

Sometimes it's a weekend, sometimes it's a week, sometimes it's a few years that one spouse is out of the home.  Work conference, get away weekend, and deployment are just a few examples. But none of that makes either spouse single.

I understand taking care of the kid(s) alone day in and day out would feel lonely.  Before I met and married Mr. Sexy I was doing the single mom thing.  I consider it a huge blessing we got married when Michael was very young.  Thinking about my personal education, a steady income and Michael's future was a lot to juggle on my own.  Not to mention the day to day tantrums, grocery shopping, bed time stories and so on.

I was a single mom.
I was the source of my income.
I was my housekeeper.
I was Michael's disciplinarian.
I was the chef.

There was no other person coming home to us at the end of the day.
There was no one to tell me good night as I turned off the light.
There was no cash flow coming from anyone other than me (ok, well, I was on welfare so the government did their part too).
There were no love letters in my email, no love notes in my mailbox.
When I had a bad day, there was no significant other to text, email or call about it.

Am I making my point?

Denai at 32 weeks.
Mr. Sexy and I found out I was pregnant with Denai the morning he had to leave for three weeks.  Military stuff.  He wasn't allowed to cancel or postpone.  Three weeks was a long time.  I missed him so much it felt painful.  Taking care of the two kids and growing one was exhausting work for me. I didn't get to talk to Mr. Sexy whenever I wanted.  Most of the time his phone was off.  But I texted him as if he were able to read each one so he would be fully updated when he had some time to talk. I wasn't working outside the home, yet there was still a cash flow in my bank account so I could do the grocery shopping. I looked forward to Mr. Sexy coming home every day - as did the kids.

In no way was I a single mom during those weeks. My husband was away and working hard to provide for our family.  I don't know many single parents who can say that.