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.

A Process of Healing

Open wounds still hurt.

I have wondered why some things still keep me up at night in a frustrated trance. Perhaps it's because the wound(s) never really healed.  In fact, that makes a lot of sense.

Yet, how can I heal when the wound is being hit again and again and again? Band aids get ripped off in my sleep.  In other instances, my poor choices start the bleeding all over again. I'm at fault as much as anyone.  In fact, perhaps I'm the most at fault - if not the only one.

I am in charge of me, my emotions and my actions.  Nothing comes from my mouth that I didn't really want to say somewhere deep down in my sinful nature.



I still feel the twinge from lost and hurt relationships. While I know that God can heal what is broken, it feels that, in the world I live in, what is broken will stay broken.  I alone can only do so much.

I believe in a church family.  There have been times when that family cut me down, once again preventing a wound to heal. I lost faith in people.  I doubted goodness that might come from church.  I felt eyes on me everywhere.  Watching.  Waiting for an excuse to call me out on the mistakes I was bound to make.

Do you know what that's like?  To live in fear of who you thought was closest to you?  It's a constant battle.  Do I smile or appear stoic? Do I sit here or there? Should I speak or save it for the comfort of my own home? Should I break down in front of everyone or continue to shove the torment deep inside to appear put together?  Hopefully, if done right, the eyes will stop watching... One day...

Fear.  Rejection.  I know the meaning of these words all to well.  They are the open wounds that continue to bleed.

Yet somehow, my faith prevails today. My faith in the goodness of people is being renewed.  This wasn't my idea.  I didn't try to accept the goodness of others.  In fact, I was ready to deny it.

It's just that God has His Perfect Timing.  Last year, when we moved into the woods, I wasn't ready to be openly vulnerable again.  I don't know why God isolated me.  But He new better than I or Mr. Sexy.  What we needed was time and space to grow in our marriage and in our family. Our marriage still isn't everything it can be although it has deepened tremendously. Our family is still in pieces.

But we're trying.  We're working.  We're moving forward.

It makes no sense that I should once again open myself up to people in church and show them the scum that I see inside myself.  But I am doing it.  It's wonderfully painful.

Eyes will continue to watch - even if it's just from a distance.  I will not make good choices all the time.  In fact, I made some not so great ones already this morning.

But for some reason, I'm able to once again try to move forward.

I want the wounds to heal.  I want my marriage to be all that it can be.  I want my family to be whole.

True or false?

More specifically, is the Bible true?  Or is it just a bunch of old and somewhat interesting stories?  Are some stores true and the rest fabricated? 

Mr. Sexy and I rented the new movie, Noah, over the weekend.  It was different than I expected in some ways.  It was better in others.  I'm glad I knew to start the movie with an open mind of someone else's interpretation of the Noah's Ark story. I understand the need/desire to change details or fill in the gaps in order to make a film a blockbuster. 

There are three main things I walked away with after watching. 

1. Some of the details were obviously not in line with the original story.  Other details, well, who knows?  It's sometimes fun to let our imaginations put the pieces together. 

2. Noah and his family were human.  Disgustingly human, even.  You will have to see the movie yourself to see why I use the term, "disgustingly human." 

3. Hollywood's version of Bible stories will generally not be shown to my kids until they know the true story well enough to know the difference between truth and imagination. 

This then begs the question, is the story of Noah true at all?  If not, what about the rest of the stories? Can we decided that some stories are too far fetched but the others could possibly have happened? 

I grew up with all the famous Bible stories and characters. Eventually I got to a point when I had to decide if it was true or not. Jonah being swallowed by a whale and surviving?  Two of every single animal on a boat with the one "perfect" family left while everyone else was essentially murdered?  A father ready to murder his own son?  Incest? Even now, as I make this list, I am thinking of how much the world hasn't changed.  The problems, at their core, remain the same. 

I have decided that the Bible is true from beginning to end with everything in the middle. I have not yet been able to justify that Noah's story would be made up and Jesus' story was not. I have to believe all of it or none of it.  When I tried to pick what I wanted to believe as truth, I tried to disregard what I didn't want to hear. But in the end, I couldn't justify that kind of faith.  In fact, that wasn't faith at all. 

The Bible is complicated.  The stories are difficult to understand. I still struggle with the "why's." Some of the stories I would rather not know because I can't imagine what it would have been like.  But it's all part of history.  It's God's story to us, for us and about us. 

I have been enjoying Hollywood's portrayal of the stories I grew up with and I hope the trend continues. As imperfect as their portrayals might be, I enjoy seeing "perfect" Bible story characters I have heard about my whole life becoming human and therefore, more relate-able. 

Church: Is it bad or good?

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about Gossip.  I may have given the impression that church is a bad place to be.  This is not true and I hope that's not the impression I left my readers with.

As a church-goer my entire life, I have enough faith to know that it's not church that is the problem.  It's the people.  The sinners.  People like me and you.  And me.  Depending on who you talk to, the story can shift on who was in the right and who was leaning toward the wrong.  I am already able to allow thoughts of forgiveness and letting go to roll through my mind regardless of who was right or wrong.  Maybe there was no right or wrong.  It was a judgement call.  And it sucked.

While my recent wounds heal I won't be attending my home church when I visit. I still love my church family and I love my pastors.  But right now, my trust in what a church family is supposed to be is a bit broken.

Today we attended our local church for the first time in months (camping tends to take up a lot of summer weekends).  We left feeling tremendously blessed.  We attended Sunday School where I was able to be a little bit vulnerable in sharing how hard this co-parenting/marriage/parenting/care taking/Christian thing is.  And then later a friend gave me her number with the demand that I call so she can watch our kids while Mr. Sexy and I have a much needed date night.

It was a good day.

But even with the good stuff, I couldn't help but wonder who was watching as I sat next to Marie and whispered in her ear.

Did I look angry? 
Did I look mean? 
Is Marie responding to me ok? 
Are we attracting attention? 
Who is watching?

All that fear is from Satan.  I know that.  But it's still there nonetheless.

Mr. Sexy and I are continuing with our weekly family counseling.  We are also continuing to explore the spiritual elements which I talked about in my recent post: Gear up: We are in War.  There will be more on that subject later this week.

Why blog?

It's been a bit since I have posted.  For one thing I have been incredibly busy with my family, slowly continuing to move in, and we have adopted some more animals.  However, no matter the chaos, I can typically find time to blog.  Lately, however, I have felt stuck.  That happens every now and again.

I'm not exactly sure why I blog.

Popularity?
The joy of writing?
To stand on a self made soap box?
To encourage people?
Tear them down?
To cope with life's stresses?
To learn how to share my life?
To vent?

There are so many reasons to blog.  More than my small list.

If I'm being honest, well, the above list are the reasons I blog.  Yup, I wouldn't mind a bit of popularity and I tend to think I have better ideas than other people.  I'm a flawed person and some of my reasons for blogging are flawed as well.

I wonder if lately I have been blogging and doing it wrong.  Some say, yes, I have posted inappropriate material.  Maybe those people are correct.  Or maybe I am the one in the right.  Or perhaps it is what it is.

I don't blog to please other people. My goal, in every post, is to let you, the random reader, to look inside my life and get a glimpse of how the world looks through my eyes.   I tend to be a bit blunt at times.  This usually hurts people's feelings which is ironic because I'm a sensitive person.

I don't blog to hurt people. However, it happens.  I have probably hurt people whether I am made aware of it or not. Sometimes I do feel the need to call people out.  I'm not sure if that's right or wrong.  Mr. Sexy tells me, as long as I'm writing in love, and it's a love that others can see, I'm doing okay.  I'm pretty sure I don't always write from a loving heart.

So where do I go from here?  I have had many blogs since I was a teenager.  The two before this one were highly controversial.  Is that wrong?  I think sometimes controversy is a good thing.  Although, for me, the controversy typically revolves around my family.  That's pretty personal.  The way I write about myself and my family causes me to wind up hurt, too.

So I will continue on.  The hard subjects of spirituality, parenting, feeling hurt and angry are subjects I will continue to write about.

I'm still not exactly sure what my purpose in blogging is but I think it's what I'm supposed to be doing.

Gossip

It's such a cliche term, right?

At least, I used to think so.

However the past 3 years have shown me how costly a "cliche" term, such as gossip, can be.

I have lost best friends.  Yup.  That's plural.

A few of my best friends had some concerns for me and my family.  Instead of approaching me and my husband, they met in secret with each other.  They gave us an ultimatum: I leave my house or they call the cops.

Was something that drastic necessary?  No.  We were already neck deep in counseling and learning to be a family.  Did I mention yet that we had been a family for only 3 months?

One of my friends apologized (that same night actually) and saw how things took a turn for the worse.  However, that relationship never was the same.  And it pains me even today.

My other friend lied to me and my husband.  They called the cops even after I went to stay at my parent's house as they had demanded.

Have you ever felt such a violation?  In those moments of being driven away from my family by my brand new husband, I had nobody.  At least, that's what the big feelings told me.

When the cop showed up at my house he expressed sorrow to my husband for our predicament.  My family was eating dinner - without me - and our house was immaculately cleaned and ready for Marie's birthday party the next day.  The cop had no cause for concern and told Mr. Sexy how he often gets calls like these.  Calls that amount to nothing.

But my family was left in pieces.  Pieces we seem to still be picking up. 


Some time goes by.  I can't think how long.  This part is jumbled.

A blog I used to have became some sort of small internet sensation.  One person, a "troll" is what I think they are called, saw a few pieces I had written and wrote disgusting things on her blog about me.  She used my site address, my name and any other personal information she could find.  She had a very large readership.  Soon friends and family were getting emails calling me despicable names.  The cops were called and CPS became involved.

All this happened because of gossip.

Around that same time some people from my home church called my family pastor with concerns for me and Marie.

This was a church I called family.  I grew up there.  Many knew my family well.  Yet they still had the audacity to go behind my back.  Gossip.  

Again, there was betrayal and the feeling of being violated.

Church is supposed to be safe.  Church is supposed to reserve judgement.  Church is supposed to be about people.



Fast forward to right now.

My family moved away from that area one year ago.  It was a difficult move but the right one.  However I have missed my church tremendously.  So this past weekend we went to their family camp.

We had a wonderful time.  It was exactly what our family was needing.  Marie and I had many good moments together.  She talked to me and we played together and laughed together.  Family tensions were put at rest and I was able to practice letting go of control.  At times it was difficult.  But I had the support of my husband.  I had the support of my church family.

Or did I?

It seems someone has once again gone to the pastor to express concerns. 

Now, at this point, if I were you, I would be thinking, "There must be cause for some sort of concern if this keeps happening."

But really?

The betrayal.  The violation of my family.  Every single instance is brought back all at once.  

I can't breathe.  My heart is beating hard and fast.  I'm shaking and I feel nervous.

Trust is becoming a thing of the past for me.

 I have 4 friends that I can still trust with the realities of my life.  My husband is one of them.  The other is a strong believer and has been my rock over and over again.  The other two don't regularly attend church although I will pass no judgments on their religious standpoints. They are better friends than many of my Christian friends. This is my circle.  These four people have chosen to address concerns to me and my husband directly.  I know this because it has happened!  And you know what?  We are better friends for it!  

Gossip is no cliche.  Gossip tears relationships apart.  It rips up families and wears down a person.

I am feeling worn down.  I want to give up the fight.  And that is just where Satan wants me.  

But praise God my husband has recently been lifted from years and years of physical bondage.  He will tell that story soon.  But I have to mention it now.  He is now energized in ways I have not seen in a long time, if ever.  He is showing me compassion, withholding his judgments and loving me if only because Jesus loves me.

I cannot describe the pain I feel.  It's a pain that seems to continue to build each time I face the same battle.

I want the gossip to stop.  Even when it's hard.  I want it to stop.  Because this gossip shit is getting all of us nowhere.  In fact, it's a hot tool that Satan is using in your life, and now,  in my life.

Passing Grades

"So do you have a timeline for the house?" Mr. Sexy called from the kitchen as he rinsed out a mason jar for his morning coffee.

"No, not really," I replied as I entered the kitchen from the minefield that is every room except for the kitchen.  Even then, you never know when you might step on an old banana slice or a pile of cheerios. Aaahhh, the joys of children.

"Hey, do you want a real coffee mug?" I asked.

"Do we have one?!"  

"Totally."  I knew right were to go and found Michael's circus mug that has a cute little elephant inside it.  

Now we both have coffee mugs.  That is a nice thing. 

Getting back to the original conversation, I said, "Yeah, I'm in no hurry to get this place done."

Mr. Sexy looked at me and smiled a teasing yet in-all-seriousness smile.  "You're learning so much about not stressing out." 

"There's just way too much," I replied.  

But he's right.  Life these past few years has been a huge course on stress management.  I (we) failed a few times BUT we didn't quit.  I would like to think that now I (we) are starting to get passing grades.  

Our house was built in 1902.  Yup.  It's an oldie.  Much of the house seems to be as original as it gets.  Most of the lights have brass plates with round buttons to turn lights on and off instead of a light switch.  The door frames are narrow and I have already hit Denai's head more than a few times.  Oops.  One of the coolest new findings is that this house still has the original kitchen cabinets.  The farthest left cabinets used to be a refrigerator or ice box. 

The house is a fixer upper and hasn't had a decent cleaning in.... actually, I don't need to know.  I'm not even close to being done with this place.  The cobwebs.  The caked dust on the ceiling fans. The flies that seem to have had their home invaded.  But it's all good.  I'm not stressed out.  I work when I want, relax when I want, sleep when I want, play when I want.  And let me tell you, play time is fun time out here.  

Driveway

When I go to the porch with my coffee or lunch or wet laundry, before I know it, an hour has gone by and I have no intentions of going back inside the house.  This place is incredibly peaceful.  We have HUGE oak? trees that look as if they have been here since the house.  They provide incredible shade so when it's 90 degrees, at my house, under my trees and my porch, it feels more like a breezy 75.  

Aaaahhhh, perfection.  

I don't have too many pictures of the house yet to post on instagram or to share here.  Doing that takes just a bit more energy than I feel like putting out right now.  (See, I still do what I want - and I love it.)

There is so much about moving that is stressful and it seems so much of that stress isn't all that controllable.  Or is it?  

What is most stressful for you about moving? How do you or did you deal with it?  

My (failed) Expectations

Today I read a post at City Chick in the Country where she spent a few lines talking about expectations about her family.  This got me thinking.

My family is still young.  Yet my expectations of my family have already been squandered.

For instance, Marie rarely - if ever - meets my expectations.  Mr Sexy tells me all the time to adjust my level of expectation for her.  Yet I don't do that.  I don't feel like I can.  To me, it seems like that would mean she will never be good enough.  Good enough for what?  For who?  Good enough for me?  Is that my problem?

When we were getting to know each other, 2010.
Sometimes I think we need to figure out how to get
back to that place because we aren't there anymore.

Do I want Marie to be good enough to be "allowed" to be a part of my family?

As a Christian, I understand where I'm in sin.  As an imperfect Christian, I'm not quite sure how to get out of it.

I also had expectations of the family I grew up with.  My parents, my three younger brothers.  All have failed me.  Every singe one.  Over and over and over again.  (Sound familiar?) But then again, I failed them, too.  Every single member of my family have been let down by me - more than once.  We are imperfect people, after all.

The family I grew up with. 2010

I also had expectations of the picture my family would look like.  The picture in my head and the one I currently have do not match.  That was my choice, though.  I had sex and didn't use protection.  On purpose.  No, I wasn't trying to get pregnant.  I was "trying" to stop having sex with my boyfriend.  But I was a lonely, horny teenager who was too prideful to go the drugstore.  Again.  But hey, he's cute right?

Michael, 2 months old.

So I suppose, in many regards, I have failed to meet my own expectations. 

Perhaps my expectations need to change.  Not for Marie, or for my family or for the friends I have around me.  (Let's face it, friends - best friends - have not always met up to my expectations.)  Maybe my expectations need a shift toward what God expects first.  And maybe if I practice leaning into Him instead of worldly things, I will have more of a cleared up heart to accept people for who they are, where they are, even when they fail to meet all my expectations.

My family, 2014

It's Good When...

You know a book is really good when:

It's all I can think about. 

I talk about it like it's real life happening in the here and now.

I dream about it. 

It ends but I want it to keep going forever. 

 The Nancy Drew series were these kinds of book for me as a young girl.  It was nice that it was such a huge series but it never did end until I grew out of them.  In fact, I believe I should credit this to my mother, but I still have all my Nancy Drew books for my own girls to read at night while hiding under the covers with a flashlight!  Yup, I did that.  A lot.

More recently, I feel like the caliber of what I read has gone down.  The most recent page turners I have read are the Twilight books and the Hunger Games series.  That is the best literature I have read in years.  I feel...lame.  Yet I can't seem to find adult books that keep me interested.  I feel like I should enjoy John Grisham.  But I don't.  I mean, I liked the one book I got through.  It was called "In Cold Blood" or something.  However, I think I made it through that book because it was a true story so I enjoyed the reality of the story - as dry as it was for me to read.

I would like some suggestions.  Reading is so relaxing, calming and works my imagination like nothing else.

I have always enjoyed mystery (unless I find it so creepy I won't turn the lights out at night) and a good love story.

Oh! Christy, in my opinion, is a classic and I've read that book countless times!  Maybe I should just reread that one for now....

Another Day in the Sexy Family

Mr. Sexy had his much anticipated appointment with a sleep doctor yesterday.  We heard he is absolutely amazing and highly recommended which is awesome because Mr. Sexy hasn't had a decent night's sleep in almost 15 years now.  However, this appointment is not the highlight of my story today.

We recently bought a beater truck from a friend.  Michael LOVES driving it to school every day with Mr. Sexy and it's been a great commuter vehicle.

Of course, the Sexy family can't go too long without car trouble. 

I knew trouble was brewing when I received this text:

Having issues with the truck. Yay!

And then half an hour went by and I was still waiting to hear that he was headed to pick up some baked beans to go with dinner.

Then I get this text:

Another dinner option might be a good idea.

"Another dinner option" meant driving into town to pick him up and take him home.  But what a great excuse to go to one of our new favorite Mexican restaurants!  There also happened to be a 2 for 1 burrito special AND an amazing beer special.

So as I was driving into town I kept chanting (AND believing): I'm not worried.  God's got this handled.  He hasn't let us down yet. 

Good food.  Good beer.  Then a phone call.

Our friends have been trying to get Mr. Sexy and I to become part of the community theatre board.  Last night was their annual meeting and while we were invited a few weeks ago, I immediately declined.  We just have too much going on!  We are now moving, and quickly.  Mr. Sexy works two jobs and we are lucky to have a family dinner together.  I'm always stressed out about one thing or another.  And of course, now we are (again) having car troubles.

You see, we both talk about wanting to be involved in the community.  However, getting past our excuses is a different conversation.

But after my very large beer I was all for attending the meeting.  Apparently they just needed two more bodies so they could vote on a few issues.  Sure!  Mr. Sexy and I can vote about things we probably know a little bit about.

The meeting was boring and I wished I brought some beer with me.  But that might have been tacky.

However, I could see Mr. Sexy getting excited as I watched his brain work, already brimming with ideas to improve our local theatre program.  Our friends have been nudging him to take the Vice President position that became open officially as of last night, but of course we continually stepped back from the idea.  As I stated previously, we just have too much going on.

But peer pressure tends to win out for me.

So I nudged Mr. Sexy and told him he should do it.  He questioned whether he "should" for my sake, but really, it was only out of courtesy.  He really REALLY wanted to do this.  So I said, "Whatever.  Just do it!"

And now it's done.  Mr. Sexy is Vice President of our community theatre board.

So weird.

We had hopes that after the two hour meeting our truck would magically start and we would understand why it broke down.  But, no such luck. "Perhaps there is more to the story," was Mr. Sexy's reaction.

We got home close to ten last night.  Every was so tired.  And now this morning, I'm still tired, and Mr. Sexy didn't leave me enough coffee.

I wonder what adventure today will bring...

It Has To Be Good

Around this time last year, Mr. Sexy and I were sitting in the office of our family pastor at the church we still know as Home.  Denai was about a month old.  I remember kneeling on the floor, changing her diaper while tears were stinging my eyes because I knew.  My heart knew and finally my head knew.  We were moving.  And soon.

It was a painful realization but one I was able to come to on my own time, in my own way.

We picked our first available weekend, somehow found enough money for a hotel stay and carted the kids to a town an hour and a half away to find our new house.  Every house we looked at was a dump and appeared to be party central.  This town is a small college town which meant most houses for rent were overpriced and not taken care of.  After a long weekend we were feeling down about the whole thing.  But we had one more house to look at.  It was in a town right outside where we had been looking; a town so small it doesn't have a grocery store or gas station.  We found the listing on one obscure sight and it had one picture with a description of the 78 acres the house sits on.

Our driveway.

This was the final house for us to see.  As we drove up the steep, mile long driveway we were both nervous.  Trees and brush surrounded us and it felt like we were entering a forest and would perhaps find a shack for rent.


Instead we found our home.

It was a challenge living out here in the woods.  First, the bees were extraordinary to the point we didn't go outside until evening when we would have our evening campfire with beers on the side.  There were so many bugs coming in through the broken screens that I complained daily about it.  Sometimes even by the hour.  Then winter came and that had its own long list of hurdles.  We learned how terrible the insulation is here and how much firewood we actually needed to get through a winter using a wood stove as our main source of heat.  We had vehicles get stuck in the snow many times and once it was a 6 hour adventure with all of us hiking up the driveway in a snow storm because
 there was no way to get our mini van to the house.  That was fun.

On our way home a huge snow storm hit causing
a major accident resulting in a 2 hour stand-
still while we were only 10 miles from home.

In all that time it had been snowing so hard our
van couldn't make it up the driveway.  The end
result was putting Denai in her car seat in a sled
and all of us hiking home.  It took about 45
minutes.
But what memories! 

And now spring has arrived.  We learned the ins and outs of this life in the woods and were ready to gear up for the summer of bees and another winter of snow.  It was going to be fun because we knew what to do.

As of last week, it has pretty much been decided that the owner wants to sell this property.  Our lease is up August 1 and that's our deadline to get out.

Again, we are feeling a bit hopeless.

This house, the atmosphere, the breathtaking beauty we are surrounded in has been wonderful for our family.  Michael started to actually enjoy playing outside.  Both kids can be out there for hours, exploring the creek and the woods and there is no worry about cars or strangers walking by.  I have come to a place where I enjoy the quiet stillness that I wake up to every morning.  There is no needless running around town or pressures to be out and about in the world.

Here, in this place, God speaks to my soul and I can actually hear Him.


When we moved in we were told this house would be available to us for three years at least.  Plans changed, I guess.

Mr. Sexy and I are struggling through disappointment, doubt and fear.  However we also know that there is always hope and there is a master plan in all this.  It's stressful for both of us which means we are having difficulty trusting God.

So when I feel my stomach start to get all twisty I tell myself: This was a wonderful home and it was just what we needed.  Now it's time to embark on the next chapter, another adventure, and it's going to be good.

It has to be good.  I honestly don't see how it can be good right now.  But it has to be good.

And there are some good and fun things about moving right?  Tell me all of them!

Camping

I didn't want to go camping.  There.  I said it.  The weather was nippy, rainy, and cloudy.  I had zero desire to be outside for any length of time.  So camping?  In a tent?  Even though we had been planning the trip for a few weeks I was ready to cancel.

But then Michael wanted to go so badly.  After picking him up from school on Friday I gave him the news: "It looks like we might not go camping.  The weather just isn't that great."

I was worried about a lot of things.  Me, my attitude and my comfort.  Then the kids.  I didn't want to get to our camp site  in the rain and deal with complaining kids.  Then there was Denai.  How would she handle the trip in the great outdoors?

Michael and I went back and forth on our 20 minute drive home.  I finally had him convinced that it would be better to wait for good weather instead of going camping now in not so great weather.  A few minutes later: "I just want to go camping now."

AUGH!

Lunch time.

So I made them a deal - a game, actually.  If they won, then dad and I would talk about going camping.  If they lost, the answer was no and that's the end of it.  As the game continued long into the afternoon I knew Mr. Sexy and I would say yes to camping because they showed awesome endurance even through boredom of each other.

The game:  After getting home at noon, they had 5 minutes to go potty and grab whatever they needed to stay warm and have fun outside.  To win, they were to stay outside until dad got home, around 5:30.  If one of them came inside, even for just one minute, they both lost.



They succeeded.  Crazy-ass kids.  We were incredibly surprised, to say the least.  How could we say no the deep desires of their hearts now?  Plus, we knew we would have a really good time with our friends.

I'll be honest: I was the one who was worried about me being cold and grumpy.

But of course we had a wonderful time.  We went with our friends who also have a car load of kids and they all really love each other.  We all managed to stay so busy I didn't have much time to feel cold and cranky.  Plus the sun was out every day and it only rained a little, at night - the night Marie went looking for food...hmmmm Check out that story in the post: I Do What I Want

Here are some of my favorite moments:

We'll call this heart breaker M.

I tend to like rules and have plans.  Bending the rules, even just for a little while, is really hard for me.  So when I saw M dig into the Lays for breakfast, my first reaction was : "Oh no!  These are for lunch time!"  But I'm not his parent so instead I watched as all of our kids dug around and found whatever they could find to fill their tummy's.  

Learned philosophy: We're camping.  We ALL get some freedom.  

KIDS ONLY!!! 

There was a tent for the Sexy parents and then a tent for the Sexy kids.  Obviously, this tent was the kid's domain.  They had so much fun doing I-don't-wanna-know-what in there. They had so much fun - it broke. 

Ductape fixes all.

As you can see there are a few shoes and socks lying around.  At some point Michael lost those and then later couldn't find them.

Learned philosophy: It's good for them to get their toes dirty (them, not me).

This is something we are going to do again on future camping adventures and even at home over our own camp fires.  The kids cooked their own dinner!  Honestly, I wanted to cook a hot dog, too, but the adult menu consisted of steak, corn on the cob and baked beans, all cooked over the fire.  It was so yummy and I have never eaten steak like finger food before!  

Learned philosophy: Make 'em work for what they eat and forks are overrated. 

Mr. Sexy gave Denai her first sliding experience.  She slid backwards, forwards, hands first, feet first and then "climbed" back up to go again.  Some of the other kids even took turns taking Denai down the big slide with her in their laps.  

Learned philosophy: Family time is good, anywhere, anytime.  

Anyways, camping turned out to be a big success.  I'm glad my kids pushed me into this because it would have been sad to miss out on such a fun time.  In fact, Mr. Sexy and I caught the "camping bug" and already have a few trips in the works.  

I'm Obsessive, But It's a Heart Thing

I started blogging because I carry a burning desire to share my life with others.  As I reintroduce myself and all the hearts that make up my own, I am constantly, at the very least, a little bit nervous.

You are evil.

You should put your daughter up for adoption.

You are going to hell.

You have a black heart.

These words and more still try to plague my spirit.  Even when not directed to my name, I still feel the cutting edge of these spiteful, hateful words.  Those words don't know love, the power of forgiveness or the wonder of grace.

My family of 5, on the other hand, are able to  know these concepts well.  The five of us stumble and fall daily.  Sometimes, it's up to one to pick up the others and encourage and push forward in love.  Sometimes, only one of us falls and the blessings of family abound.

The A to Z blogging challenge was a really great way for me to practice blogging from my heart in a positive way.  I also enjoyed the challenge of meeting so many new bloggy spaces where I will continue to visit in the future.  Every blog is unique and I believe each one has a purpose.  As I told my gal pal the other day, "Sure it's been said already.  But not by you."  It's so true. (This girl should have a blog.  I have talked about her a few times here.  She has an incredible amount of knowledge AND opinions about cloth diapering, parenting, female issues and I'm sure there is much more.  I always enjoy her perspective even if it's different from mine.  So if she's reading this...be pushed forward. ;)

I worry that I'm a bit obsessive about blogging.  I think about it all the time.

Oh! I should tweet this.

I need to instagram that.

Wow.  My thoughts are amazing right now.  I need to be writing a blog post. 

Mr. Sexy tells me it's ok.  I'm just passionalte about it.  I'm passionate becasue I love it.  I love sharing my life with other people.  I especially get joy ouf of sharing the bad stuff.  I don't think a lot of people could say that.  The bad stuff is difficult to write and to read. It is even harder to understand from an outside perspective.  However, if I don't share the bad stuff, I'm robbing you of the chance to see God taking the bad and turning it into something good.  Actually, I'm robbing myself of the blessings of sharing His story as well.

I would love for my readers to be able to follow along on this journey that my family and I are on.  We are flawed.  Painfully flawed at times.  We all are, aren't we?  But so often we try to hide and show off clean floors and the spotless kitchen.  While I love those ideas, sometimes, it's not reality.  I tend to write and discuss the reality that I know in my life.  I'm encouraged in my journey already and I hope you will be too.

Judgements: My Journey Through Parenthood

J is for Judgements.

I would probably get an A on my report card for how well I can make judgements about other people.  I know, this isn't something to brag about.  I'm actually working on this and realizing how often I really do judge strangers and friends alike for their choices that are different from mine.  Frankly, nothing positive is happening when I'm passing judgements.  Bad blood flows.  In my head I begin to pinpoint their wrongs based on my bias.  This can quickly turn into a distaste for that person and ultimately can lead to a lost friendship.

Sad.

Parents make decisions every day and I have never seen two sets of parents do things in exactly the same way.  There are similarities, of course.  But everyone has different circumstances and different sets of toes and fingers running through their homes.

I'm trying to be better at understanding the differences versus passing a judgement and writing them off.  For example: I'm weaning Denai.  We are down to two feedings: Morning and night.  I can't wait to be done.  I don't understand moms who can nurse into the toddler years.  Personally, I find it weird.  But if I turn my bias off I can see my friend(s) without my judgements clouding who they really are.  I can understand that they are making good choices for their family and for their well being.

I can understand in my non-understanding.  Does that make any sense?  It does to me.

*          *          *          *

I know that I am judged constantly.  Defensiveness pops up whenever I am questioned about any parenting choices I make even if it's over something menial.  I know that I make bad choices.  Nobody needs to tell me that I'm a sinner and I have personal issues to work through.  I also know that there are a lot of people who love me and want to see our family succeed.

But then my best friends called CPS on me behind my back.  Yes, we had family issues.  Yes, it felt scary a lot of the time.  Yes, we were being counseled.  Did my best friends do something wrong in calling social services?  Not necessarily.  What made it wrong was when they snuck around and made a judgement call without consulting a list of close friends and counselors we already were seeing, forget about talking to Mr. Sexy and I.  My best friends got scared.  Instead of talking to me about it, instead of giving me a hint of any kind, they made a judgement call that devastated our family of 3 months.

Then the witch hunt began.  I took up blogging as an outlet to the daily fight of being a decent person.  I was struggling through deep and dark feelings.  The friends I made through blogging were huge inspirations.  They only knew what I shared on my blog and what they had to offer was encouragement and praise for every small victory I had.

But anything positive can be warped into something ugly.  Instead of seeing the progression of my posts and the victories and the smiles and the happy times, all one person saw was every negative thing I wrote.  She put all of it together and showed it to anybody who would read.

Soon I went viral.  My family, my friends and me were all receiving hate mail via facebook or any other social network they were on.  Strangers from across the country called CPS on me.  Multiple blogs and web pages popped up on the internet to discuss me and what a terrible person I was.  "Terrible person" is the nicest word these hunters had to say about me.

Some even requested I give Marie up for adoption.  I guess they thought she would be happy in an orphanage for the rest of her life versus in a home surrounded by love and yes, me, the step-mom who still struggles to find that love.  I quit blogging for a year and it took weeks for the emails to stop.  CPS and the police were very understanding although there was nothing anybody could do.  For the haters or for me.

As you can see I'm back now.  I blog the same why I did before, although I have taken obvious measures to hide identities.  With the internet, however, people can find just about anything.  I understand that what I put on the internet is basically there forever.  It's smart to be careful and to be aware. One of these days I will probably add a copyright to my blog.  I'm not sure what it takes to make that happen but it would be a smart move.

 The difference you will see in  my writing now is that I've grown a lot in the year I took off from blogging.  My family grew a lot.  The way I write is the same, however.  But the heart that I write from has changed and continues to change.

A short while after the blogging mayhem I was confronted by my family pastor.  A few people had called him to express concern for my family.  Once again, judgements were made, actions were taken, and my family was hurt.  My pastor didn't tell me who called him.  I may never know and that's fine.  He did advise them scripturally that next time they need to talk to the person first before addressing a third party.  I'm incredibly thankful he did that.

What if my best friends were able to talk to me? 

What if that one person had sent me an email? 

What if those people from church had invited me to coffee or a play date? 

I can be difficult to talk to.  I often feel defensive.  But give me some one on one attention, ask a question and sit back.  I will talk about my struggles through anger, learning how to love and coping with down syndrome.

This was a hard subject to tackle.  I hope I did it justice.  If anyone does have questions or concerns, please contact me personally.  I can promise you 2 things when you do this:

1.  I will be honest. 

2.  We will both be blessed. 

This is the A-Z blogging challenge so go ahead and read the introduction and see a list of all my A-Z posts.

5MF: Am I Willing

Willing.

Am I willing...
To sit and be still and alone with my thoughts.
To stand before Jesus and tell him my failures.
Oh wait, he already knows those.

Am I willing...
To contine fighting the Good fight.
The battle that rages war in my soul.
The battle where sometimes I come out on top.
Other times, not so much.

Am I willing...
To love with passion
To love without fear
To love no matter what happens.

Am I willing...
To forgive
Over and over and over
To forgive
To let go
To relax my expectations
of you, of me.

Am I willing...
To say Jesus you are my everything
and actually mean it
To scream to Him
instead of hurting those around me
I know He can take it
It's why He died for me.

Am I willing...

Linking up with Lisa-Jo

 

Twitter Baby

I'm a twitter baby. I constantly feel lost in the whirlwind of these different technologies.  You might not guess that I majored in video production in college.  I'm actually not very technically savvy.  But oh well.

So here I am: On facebook.  Instagram.  Blogging (again).  And now twitter.

It took me a looong time to work up the nerve to create an account and then to actually use the account.  I'm still figuring a lot of it out.  For instance, why are people using hash tags in their blogs?  I can't click them to take me anywhere...Should I be doing this?!?!

I have been getting a lot of practice in the art of tweeting through this season of American Idol (if I understood the purpose of a hash tag in a blog I would totally be hash tagging right now).  Twitter has given me the desire to watch American Idol live.  Commercials and all.  I don't like commercials because I don't need any convincing to purchase anything.  I'm already desiring it people.  But now I'm watching one of my favorite shows live.  I thought I would be incredibly bored and pause it halfway through so I could fast forward later.

This, my friends, is just not the case.

This past hour of (hash tag) idol results has flown by as I've been engrossed with twitter and attempting to check my blog comments.  In fact, American Idol, the actual American Idol twitter account has mentioned me in a comment TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW!!!  And I have gained TWO TWITTER FOLLOWERS.  I feel famous people.  See?  This is how much of a twitter baby I actually am.

  Regardless of how inept I feel with all this I am having a lot of fun experimenting with how much I want to tweet and what I want to tweet about.  Just my blog posts?  Only personal things?  Or is it okay for my account to blow up during a favorite tv show, sporting event or a major event in my life?  I don't want to be annoying or anything.  Or rude.  This is a balance I find difficult in all my internet conversations whether it's my blog, facebook or a text (yes I realize texting doesn't involve the internet).

Last night someone replied to one of my tweets making a negative comment about an American Idol contestant that I tweeted about who I thought did very well.  This stranger's tweet wasn't overly aggressive or over the top rude or anything that someone would normally take offense at.  As a twitter baby, however, I am soaking up all I can.

I did feel a bit taken aback by the stranger's negativity.  It would have been very easy for me to hit reply and begin a discussion.  Or an argument.  Who knows.  Is there even a delete button for tweets or for people who mention you in a tweet?  I hope they come up with one.  I love being able to delete unwanted comments on facebook.

Over a year ago now a person I did not know -bloggily or personally - found an old post of mine, she did not like it and she raised hell in my life.  I didn't have a twitter account back then...It makes me nervous to think about how quickly nastiness will spread through twitter shout outs.

I often feel like I'm talking to nobody when I'm putting content out to the masses.  Or I feel like there are so many people that no one will notice my one comment or blog post.

I have no end to this post.  I'm still trying to figure this out in hopes of becoming a twitter toddler soon.

Bottom line:  Twitter is awesome.  But it's also scary.

Me and My Grandmama (not a typo)

I grew up hearing my mom say she doesn't want to be anything like her mother.  So as a girl I thought the same thing.  "I should be nothing like my mother because she is terrible."  I had no basis to think those thoughts.  She was and is a good mom.  I was being a stupid kid.  However I may not have been totally off base in my thinking.

Perhaps I should have been saying, "I should be nothing like my grandmother because she is terrible."

I spent a month with my grandmother when I was 12.  We went on a trip to Germany along with my grandfather, his wife and their daughters (my aunts).  My mom was nervous about me spending so much time with my grandmother alone but I was super excited.  I was a geeky 12 year old with pimples and my aunts were 17 and 19.  They were so cool and knew so much about boys.

The way my grandmother treated me on that trip was terrible.  While things started out fine, her behaviors escalated steadily to the point I was fearful that at any moment anything could happen.  By "anything," well, use your imagination.  Anything.

She yelled at me constantly, particularly when I wanted to do something (like hang out with my aunts) that she didn't quite approve of.  Mind you, at this point in my early adolescence I was a very good kid.  The outward rebelliousness blossomed later.

I vividly remember how loud she snored - I'm a terrible sleeper - and we shared a bed.  I didn't think to use ear plugs but I did have headphones and my cd player.  It was wonderful - until one night I opened my eyes to find my grandmother barely one inch away from my face and yelling as loud as she could.  Something about my loud music.  I'm a spoiled brat.  Blah blah blah.  I was powerless against this woman and for the first time I remember feeling nervous in the presence of another adult/chaperone type person.  I didn't know what else to do in that situation but close my eyes, turn up my music and wait for her to get tired.  This type of thing happened more than once.

Others on our tour could hear her screams, I'm sure.  She wasn't a quiet woman.  In broad daylight, in our hotel room, she screamed in my face.  Multiple times she asked yelled if I was trying to kill her.  I felt guilty for making her feel that way.  At first.  But then I realized that she was acting a little bizarre.  I did talk back to her.  I gave her a piece of my mind as best any 12-year old who knows everything about life could.  This only fueled her.

There were a few nights where my grandmother slept in front of the hotel room door so I wouldn't sneak out.  I can't remember if that was indeed my intention.  Although I do remember wanting to hang out with my aunts and my grandmother didn't like it.  She basically didn't want me hanging out with that family. Period.  So why did she agree to go on a trip with her ex-husband and his family?  Beats me.

I was allowed to call my parents one time.  I had never been separated from my family for more than a few overnights at a time, if that.  And I was allowed one phone call.  Maybe two.  I may have left a voicemail once and I may have actually had a chance to talk to them again when they answered.  Hearing their voices caused my emotions to bubble inside me.  My grandmother, standing over me, hands on her hips, kept me in check.  "How are you doing?" they asked.  "I'm fine."  In my head: I'm not fine.  I'm miserable.  Grandmama is being so mean to me and I'm afraid of her.  Please get me home early.  But instead all that came out was, "I'm fine."  There was nothing else to say.  My grandmother cut the conversation short after just a few minutes anyways.  As I hung up I remember feeling lost and alone and just stuck.  They were my lifeline.  And it didn't work.  I had to endure.

When I finally did get home after what turned out to be horrendous and life-changing trip I found out my best friend had run away from home while I was away.  I had been strong for every moment until hearing that news.  But I didn't have to be strong anymore.  I could cry in the safety of my mom's arms and release the tension I had been holding for so long.

All the disgusting comments my grandmother said about me, to me.  All the evil stares from the across the room.  The knowing that she thought of me as trash.  The yelling in my face.  Curse words.  Obscene accusations.  The control.  Her control over me could finally be lifted.

But was it really?

It's years later and I see someone in my home.  Someone who doesn't quite belong.

I see my grandmother in the mirror.  I hear her hatred shouting through my lips.  I feel the anger seeping from my skin.

I did not see that coming.

A Beautifully and Wonderfully Made Me

At the bottom of my recent blog post, Journeying Towards Acceptance, is a beautiful picture of my daughter and I on my wedding day.  That picture used to hang, framed, just outside her bedroom door.  It was a reminder of who we are to each other regardless of the bumps along the road: mother and daughter.

This morning that frame is shattered and the photo ripped in 6 pieces.

Trying to live up to the image of being all-loving, forgiving and understanding is an impossible feat.  For me, at least.

The broken photo is my favorite of us.  We are both beautiful, smiling and happy with our worlds.  But that still-frame in time doesn't show the endless chaos that takes place as our worlds collide daily.  Moment by moment I make a choice:  Will I be calm, understanding and loving in my reaction?  Or will I allow anger to take control?

Today my anger focused in on one smiling woman and a happy girl.  Today those two people don't exist.  At least not together.

I believe in demons and angels that walk around with us and whisper ideas into our minds.  I believe in a heaven and a hell and in God and in Satan.  I believe that through even the slightest opening of a door evil can slither in and we are none the wiser until that evil reproduces itself over and over making its presence impossible to ignore.  Much like weeds.  I hate pulling weeds.  So when they're tiny, harmless, barely there, I ignore them.  What I should do instead is pull them out because they have no roots yet.  But wait awhile and their roots will grow.  I have come across some weeds so large and deeply rooted I couldn't pull them out even with all my strength.  That's when I realize I need to call for help.

I had to ask for help once.  A few months after being married my life changed and I learned things about myself that have changed me forever.  That's a tough story to tell and not one for today and probably not for a very long time.

It's been a long road since then and we have come so far as a family.  I began the process of learning to separate emotional lies from Biblical truths.

One huge realization that took way to long to figure out is that I don't hate Marie.  I don't even dislike her.  It's quite the opposite actually.  But does that make sense next to how angry I feel towards her when she acts out yet again?  No, it doesn't.  It makes absolutely no sense at all.  

Anger is my go-to emotion.  It's strong and powerful so that it easily clouds my true emotions.  The ones that are okay to feel and even embrace at times.  Such as disappointment.  But as I am feeling disappointed every single day, well, that emotion gets drab.  Anger, on the other hand, well I can really feel anger.  It awakens all my senses and makes the cold house feel incredibly hot.  I can feel the semblance of control as I hear power coming through my voice and I can see the effects that has.

But how is any of that positive and good for my family?  For my husband?  My kids?  What about the baby, the most innocent of any of us.

I really wanted to stop the line of anger issues with me in my family.  I wanted to learn to be better and show all of my kids what Jesus' love looks like.  But that's not what's happening.  Even if I'm not using words, my eyes can say so much.

Today I am feeling very beaten down.  I'm upset because that is so different from the past few days of feeling accomplished, optimistic and like a grade A parent.  Like I have said before, when I get lazy in the fight Satan attacks.

I've been to counseling a lot through my life but there is only one guy that I really liked because he helped me see things about myself that still stick with me.  Here's what he had me do:

First, I drew a picture of myself and drew/wrote what I liked about me.

Then, on a paper protector (plastic sleeve thingys), I wrote everything negative that I saw in me in black marker.

Well, when you put the black marks over everything that is good and true about me it's awful hard to see all that good stuff.  In fact, I couldn't read any of the words or see any of the pictures.  It was all a jumbled mess.  This is what shows.  What I see, what others see, what shows best, are the black marks.

 When I look in the mirror I tend to see a beautifully, wonderfully made woman overshadowed by black marks of sin.

Isn't this something we all do?  Isn't this what causes rifts in relationships?  I can rarely get past those black marks in other people - even in my own family.  My parents, relatives, my kids, myself, my friends.

The flip side is that we each can have Jesus who sees the black marks but He can erase those, piece by piece so others can see what he sees.  The beautifully and wonderfully made person in the mirror.

So today, that's my prayer.  All my reflection shows are the black marks and I see too many to count.  Today, before I go to sleep, I have hope that Jesus will erase just one of those marks so that a small piece of the beautifully and wonderfully made me will shine through.  One shining light in the midst of the dark.





Disclaimer:  The picture was shattered against a wall when no one else was around.

Naked Vulnerability

A dear friend sent me a text over the past week asking for prayer for her one-year old baby girl, her first born, because she had her second seizure.

I'm guilty of not always following through on my promises to lift others up in prayer even when I'm specifically asked.  It's interesting.  It's almost like I have to push myself to break down some invisible barrier just to send a few words up to Jesus.

 Prayer should be the easiest thing ever.

For me, right now, it's just ... not.

That day, however, I pulled that elusive barrier down, shut my eyes, and began to tell Jesus about my friends.  It didn't take long for my throat to get tight, my eyes to well up and I had to stop.

Prayer seems to make life become a reality.

Reading a text can sometimes be like reading a line from a book or a poem or a tweet.  It's easy to detach emotionally.  So when I let my friend's words sit in my heart and whisper through my lips, the weight of reality set in.  I found myself vulnerable and unsure about the future.

Talking to Jesus has become an elusive past time that is now filled with insecurities and doubts.

Blaming the choices I have made, such as a choosing to homeschool, is not the answer.

My reality is that I have let go of the fight.  At some point I started to relax and something told me everything was fine and would continue to be fine.  No, actually something told me things would be better.  I just needed to relax.  All that relaxing has led to higher tensions, flashes of an angry heart and someone who is giving off the portrayal of being beaten down by life.

Well hell no.

The elusive "something" will not be allowed to control me any more. 

Talking to Jesus about my friends, my kids, my burdens and even my joys opens up my heart to His unfailing love and faithfulness.  The weight lifts yet  it feels like an unwelcoming naked vulnerability.  At first.

With time, practice, faithfulness and hope, I will give  Jesus my heart piece by piece.  I will find that as I learn to take refuge in Him, again, I will be steadfast and beautifully vulnerable.

Yesterday I prayed for my friend.  Today I will pray for me.  Naked vulnerability awaits.    

Better Together

I have been at a total standstill with writing for a while now.  Every time I sit down to write it' not coming out how I want.  I've been stuck.  Not just with writing, though.  I've been feeling stuck emotionally.  Overwhelmed may be a better word for it.

Valentine's Day/Weekend is probably a great example.

I always always always am looking forward to the holidays that involve me getting pampered by my very romantic Mr. Sexy.  This year, however, my birthday was overlooked by me. (yeah, my birthday is a holiday)  Mr. Sexy was the one who kept reminding me my Big Day was coming.  He had really fun plans for us but then I wasn't feeling well.

Valentine's Day was no different.

On Friday I was actually feeling excitement for what Mr. Sexy had planned for us.  He always plans something amazing and seems to enjoy how his plans always change last minute and always has great stories for me about it.  Well, no offense to him whatsoever, but Friday started off not that great.  I pretty much spent a lot of the day feeling sorry for myself as my facebook wall was covered with girls posting pictures of flowers and sweet gifts.  I hadn't received any flowers or chocolates; not even a love note.  I was sad.  I knew Mr. Sexy had plans for us that evening; but I still felt disappointed.

From early last week.

Looking back I believe my emotions were completely out of whack.  Even as I was going through them I knew I was being silly because Mr. Sexy does wonderfully romantic things for me all the time.  I get flowers from him just because he feels like it (providing we have money in the bank ;p).


So when I picked him up from work after driving for half an hour with Miss Denai crying because she hates driving as much as we sometimes do, I nearly broke into tears when he pulled a bouquet of one dozen roses out of the trunk.  They smelled wonderful.  Once again, my emotions were overwhelming - this time in a more positive direction.

That's when I started pressing him to find out what our definitive plans were for the night.  He really likes the surprise and prides himself on knowing me well enough to cater our plans to what I will truly enjoy.  And that, my friends, is why his plans are ever-changing.  He is always right, too.  Valentine's Day was no exception.

He did finally reveal that we would be having a romantic dinner at home.

I shut down.  The disappointment was overwhelming and I didn't know how to tell him.  He did tell me he tried to find a sitter... but that didn't matter to me.  What mattered was that our house, for me, during this time, was not a romantic place, much less a place I wanted to spend what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year.  (a cliche, I know)

We got home and I followed my directions: Go in the house, take a sharp left into the bedroom and stay there, relaxing with my flowers until Mr. Sexy comes to get me.

I spent all my relaxing time feeling stressed, tense, disappointed and sad.  To sum it all up: Emotionally overwhelmed.        

I knew I was being disgustingly ridiculous. While I was sipping a glass of merlot, watching Grey's Anatomy reruns and holding my roses, Mr. Sexy was cleaning the kitchen, making dinner, putting Denai to bed which took an entire hour, setting up a romantic scene for us and keeping the other two kids downstairs and entertained with dinner, a movie and sleeping bags.

I could see Mr. Sexy's disappointment when he came to get me for dinner.  Instead of getting dressed up like he wanted me to, I was still wearing my fuzzy pink bathrobe.

The candles and set up were replicated from his proposal.

Yup.  I was definitely acting like a spoiled brat.

Everything he had done was amazing and I felt incredibly guilty for not being able to appreciate it.

 What I wanted was to be taken out on the town.  I wanted to be dressed up in heels and a cute little dress so Mr. Sexy could "show me off."  I wanted a chef cooking my meal so then Mr. Sexy and I could spend that time holding hands and smiling at each other instead of being in two separate rooms for two hours.  I knew restaurant lines would have been horrendous but that's part of the gig.  I would have enjoyed holding hands and walking around the mall waiting for our dinner time to get closer and closer.  No kids, not even a tiny cute one.  Just him and me.  This is all I was thinking as I sat down to my romantic candlelit dinner.

He knew something was wrong by my puffy face, my pink bathrobe and just by my demeanor.

It's times like these where I see our marriage at work.  We did think about simply getting drunk that night.  But that's now what either of us wanted.  We knew there was something wrong and we needed to work through it.  So we did.  And it was intense.  I still don't think he completely understands why I was as upset as I was.

And honestly, neither do I.  The evening he had planned encompassed so many things we both love: Candlelit dinner, dancing and one of my favorite romantic movies (that last one isn't a fav of his).

I'm proud of us for getting through our Valentine's evening, as messy as it was.  Once everything was out in the open I finally felt the weight of my depression lift and I was able to move past barriers.

My husband is amazing.  I think I really hurt his feelings.  He showed it a little bit but not as much as he could have.  That's where silence comes into play.  He allowed me to express myself to the fullest, yet he kept himself in check.  He didn't flip out on me.  He didn't yell at me, call me mean names, head off to bed without me or bring out the liquor.  Instead he sat next to me and listened to me cry, talk, then cry some more.  I saw his sadness over and over again which didn't help me feel better.

What did help me feel better was his arm around my shoulders.  Him whispering in my ear, Even though I don't understand what you're going through, I love you more and more every day.  And finally, when I thought he was turning the romantic music off, he changed the tempo and we had a lot of fun swing dancing to some our favorite songs.  We finished the night with dinner, dessert and The Notebook in front of the fireplace.

My Valentine's Day card. 

Even though I don't understand what you're going through, I love you more and more every day.

In these moments he takes my breath away and I know how truly loved I am.