I have an alter ego. Her name is Professor Wilma. Tonight she was captured on video, so that I could share her with you.

Ironically, when I got home from VBS tonight, I had an email from Jaime. I met Jaime when I helped redid her blog with the help of Jo-Lynn and she’s a blessing. For that reason, she’s also my Blog Pick of the Week. She’s got a huge heart, and a Godly woman. Not to mention, she’s FUH-NEY.

Really, she is…

Anyway, she emailed me and said that she had a contest going on and she had me on the brain. The contest is a bundle of stress relieving stuff and it’s funny. I’ve been so stressed that I hadn’t made it around to blogs in awhile, or responded, or commented.. and so I would’ve missed this.

But Jaime wanted to know how we handle stress.

For me?

It’s what I did tonight. Gather in my safe haven, with my fellow Christians and just be goofy. Put the world behind me and not even think about it. And just have fun.

Head on over to ChaseNKids and enter…

Until next time…

I wish I could sit here and talk about how much we are enjoying summer break.  Well, I guess I could say that.  But it would be a lie.  And I’m all about keepin’ it real.

And keepin’ it real would require me to tell you that I’m about to pull my hair out, strand by strand.

Because there’s some major adjusting going on here… and I mean MAJOR.

For example, I normally start my work day at 7am.  Since I don’t have to get the kids off to school at 7, I don’t get up at 6:30.  I set the alarm for 8, but that’s not when I get up.  It’s a little a lot later.

I’m used to having about 6 hours of quiet so that I can focus.  I don’t have that.  I have none.  And I’m constantly shouting that I’m on the phone (thank God not when I’m on the phone).

I used to have from 9:30pm until whenever I go to bed (1ish) quiet.  I don’t have that now.  I do believe in letting the kids stay up a little since it’s summer vacation, but last night I instituted a bed time.  But it’s two hours later than I’m used to.  It was so quiet and I got so much work done that I didn’t get to bed until 3am.  No biggie, however, it does mean that my day didn’t start until 10 today.

So we need to adjust.

But what gets me is how much I’m struggling with the kids and moreso with one than the other.  I’ll leave you to figure out which one.

I made it perfectly clear that the first full day of summer break would be devoted to cleaning their rooms.  And I’m not talking gut cleaning, I’m talking, I would like to be able to see the floor.  I don’t ask much.

I also made it perfectly clear that after rooms were clean, they would each have one small project to do each day that would take them no more than 30 minutes, and that these projects would be in an effort to purge their stuff.

I have one that, after a boatload of yelling, finally went in and cleaned the room.  That child is no longer grounded and is working on project one… cleaning off one shelf.

I have another child who has done nothing but attempt to wear me down in an effort to revoke the “you’re grounded until your room is clean” punishment.  And I mean it has been HORRIBLE.  But, every time we get into it, I pray that I have the strength to stand my ground and so far I have.  This is tough for me because I’m suck a sucker for a sob story and tears, but I’ve done it.  But we’re not making any progress.  This child is perfectly content to sit in the room and do nothing instead of cleaning the room.

And as mad as I want to be, I can’t be.  Because that’s exactly what I did when I was a child.  I don’t care what punishment my parents gave me.  I was stubborn.  And I didn’t care how much it hurt or bothered me, I would NEVER allow them the satisfaction of knowing that their punishment was working.

Sorry Mom and Dad.  I know you’re smiling.

I know that we’ll have a little rocky start.  But I so badly want to have a good summer.  One where I can work, knock off early and go to the park.  There are benefits to working from home and I want to enjoy some of them.

And again, in the throws of summer vacation, I’m still trying to find that balance.  I think that I’ve come to realize that I’m ALWAYS going to be working on finding that.  And that?

SUCKS!

But I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength, right?

And that child?  WILL CLEAN THAT ROOM BEFORE THIS SUMMER IS OVER.

Because Mama’s had it. 

This is going to be a memorable summer… it’s the summer that mom’s going to grow some balls and make these kids help out around here.

(And I apologize for that term, but hey!  Just keepin’ it real.. it’s how I feel…)

I’m tired of being walked on, over, and drug through the mud.  I’m not the only one that lives in this house and I’m NOT the only one who’s going to clean.

I am MAMA!!  HEAR ME ROAR!!!!

And then ask me how this worked out in 3 months… lol…

Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a certain child who just snuck out of the room that is supposed to be cleaned and I need to go attend to that.

Until next time…

I had such an awesome time sharing my testimony with you all…and there’s a reason that I shared it when I did, despite being asked for over a year.

I wasn’t ready until now.

For whatever reason, I felt that sharing that, without a real live face in front of me would be in essence baring my soul. I’ve never felt compelled to share the whole story, not knowing who would read it, what they would think of me, etc. Sharing it at church was okay because, well, they’re Christians. We, as Christians, LOVE to hear those stories, but there are those that don’t.

Being the type of person who doesn’t like to offend or shove Jesus down people’s throats, sharing it publically, with those that I don’t know, make me uncomfortable.

Until last Thursday when I read in three different places that I should be public with my faith and that I should share what Christ has done for me.

Always trying to be obedient (I hate that word), I did.

And let me tell you, I’ve been blessed beyond belief, proof that being obedient pays off. (Could we teach this to my children please?)

As promised, I am putting up a Mr. Linky for those of you who wish to share a story of where God met you. I encourage you to do so. If you already have something written, pull it out of the archives and link up. And I am going to make it my personal goal this week to visit each and every single one of you to see what God had done in your life. You can even use my little graphic which I made… (proof that one of my God given gifts is NOT graphic design….)

<a href="http://www.desperatelyseekingsanity.com/2008/06/02/he-meets-us-where-we-are-carnival-contest" target="_blank"><img class="alignleft" style="margin: 10px; float: left;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2406/2541951449_7b344990bc.jpg?v=0" alt="" width="180" height="119" /></a>

I’d love to tell you that this carnival is for you, for the chance to win something, and you can if you link up, however honesty requires me to tell you that this is purely selfish. I NEED to hear these stories. I need to see His promises, His goodness, and what He is doing. I need to be reminded of that.

And so, go. post. share. be blessed. And make sure you link up because on Saturday, after I’ve been around, and I’ve read, and I’ve been blessed, I’m going to pick a winner or two for a book package that I’ve put together with more inspirational words.

Thank you for letting me share my story with you…

Until next time…

And so we’re almost done… at least with this little portion of my life… but not done with God showing up to meet me where I am, to take me by the hand, and lead me where he wants me to go. I know that this little story isn’t nearly as hot and steamy as Black Heels to Tractor Wheels Over at the Pioneer Woman or Mr. Hot at the Hotfessional, but to me, it’s just as, if not more, exciting.

To catch up… Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4….

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One night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt like I was having an arm wrestling match with God and I gave in. Not that it’s a bad thing… but I said that prayer… and then I told Lisa and then I emailed Pastor Man.

This is what I wrote….

So MySpace isn’t the avenue that I would normally pick for this, but I’m on my laptop and not with my address book…at least I know where to find you….

We talked two weeks ago. In the time since, I have read more of the Bible than I ever have in my life. I’ve been to church; I’ve journaled; I’ve prayed…man have I prayed….

I’ve attended Bible studies and prayer groups. I’ve done well at doing the right thing (I think — and it’s been said that I have by others) — I’ve been working on rghting wrongs, etc. But I never said that prayer…don’t ask me why and Lisa and I have gone over and over why I am “fighting it” and it’s not that I am fighting it — it’s more that I didn’t feel that I needed to.

I’ve asked her questions, and to be honest, I know God has to be in her when working with me because any other human would’ve told me to take a hike by now.

But also in this time I have felt more out of sorts than I have in a long time — I cry at the drop of a hat — like tonight at Deal or No Deal — who cries at Howie?????

I cry for no reason — but here’s the thing Pastor Man — I really have no reason to cry. (well, I do, but I don’t — work with me here….) My bills are paid, I have money, I have my health, I have friends, I have family, I have my children, I have a roof over my head, I have food on my table, I have heat — there are times in my life that I couldn’t say that I had all of those. So….how come I feel that I am lost and alone? Well, I think I figured all this out…and it has to do with that prayer…and I think I’ve been hesitant because I don’t fully understand — I was raised differently in that this “saved” thing isn’t the norm for me…it’s different — and I don’t know what I’m going to do about a church — but here’s what I know….I can’t do this anymore…

Now Lisa says it’s a spiritual struggle and that God is working on me - Great! I need work, but I CAN’T keep going on like this…I feel like God and I are having this arm twisting game and I’m ready to say Mercy! Is that wrong? I don’t know….

So here goes….I’m rambling…I said that prayer. I sat here in my bed, tears in my eyes, and decided that I had nothing to lose — but that I just can’t do this anymore. (You are probably thinking that I am the biggest basketcase…but that’s okay….)

Now, Lisa says I have to go public with it and when she said that I almost said “then i take it back” — see I don’t do public with my inner most thoughts and feelings and that goes for my prayers too…so what does this mean? We don’t do this at the church that I go to…and I’m just so confused about it all. So she says “Tell Pastor Man” — aren’t you the lucky one…..

But I know two things. I can’t go on by myself anymore and I want a relationship with Jesus. I want what you all have.

So I’m rambling with all of this because she said that I should get together with you and make it “public” but I was afraid that I would forget everything that I am feeling at this moment — so you’re getting it in a myspace email.

So now what? Now what do I do? I’ve accepted Jesus Christ into my life and my heart.

Where do I go from here?

Heather

PS. I somewhat had it together tonight and I was reading the last blog entry that you did…the one about the Fear of God - not only was it powerful, but I took it to be a sign — a sign from God. See the only other time I heard about the Fear of God being wisdom was in December. I was at a bar playing trivia in Coloumbia, MO. There was one table that got the question right, but none of us could figure out how anyone got it right seeings how the “Godly” people would’ve been at church and not in a bar on a Wednesday night….

PPS. I am so sorry I ramble…

I’m still a dork! ☺

On February 15, 2007, I became a Christian. My life hasn’t been the same since.

The story doesn’t end here… because as time has gone on, God’s fingerprints become more and more obvious.

Remember Lisa? The one that was going to be a Biblical coach? Yeah… she decided, or rather, God revealed to her that she wasn’t supposed to be coaching but that she should be writing and has since started Potty Prayers (you’re just going to have to go check it out to find where it got its name!) and simply His blogger. Aren’t I lucky that for a brief period of time she thought she wanted to be one? Two months after I committed my life to Christ, I finally had the chance to meet Lisa and family and even got to attend church with them. Last November, she traveled to see me share my testimony with my congregation that day that I became a member of the BEST.CHURCH.EVER. I’ve also had the pleasure of being a youth leader and have seen not only several members of our youth come to know Christ, but my own two children as well.

And remember how Matthew was adamant about how he didn’t want to play basketball? If he hadn’t, I would’ve never come in contact with my church. Not ONCE did Samara cheer there.

And one night I asked Matthew why he decided to play after pitching a fit that he didn’t want to. After prying it out of him, he revealed that he didn’t think he could play, but that day in the gym he shot the ball and made a basket. He gained some confidence that maybe he could play. Can’t you see Jesus taking hold of that ball as it left Matthew’s hands and depositing it in the hoop?

Nothin’ but net! Praise God!

I don’t have less problems since becoming a Christian and in some ways I feel as if I’m tested more. But I have a game plan. I have a helper. I am walking side by side with Jesus. And I’m okay.

So, you see, it’s not so ordinary after all. When God’s involved, it’s extraordinary!

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Now, dear readers…. I’m going to be back on Monday with a Mr. Linky. That gives you all weekend to write or find a post about where God met you or where he’s shown up in your life. It doesn’t HAVE to be about the time that you gave your life to Christ. I just want to know where He’s showing up in your life, what’s He doing for you? (Because I’m nosey like that!)

Think about it. Come back here and link up. And on Friday, after I’ve read about how much God loves you (and I won’t even get jealous) we’ll pick a winner… not based on the story, just randomly. Now’s the time to share your faith. You don’t have to go all Jesus Freak or Bible Thumper, but God is all over this internet, and think about this? How awesome will it be when you get to Heaven and He says, “Well done my good and faithful servant… and oh by the way, GREAT blog post!” or when you meet someone in Heaven who is only there because they read YOUR blog.

We have been commissioned to GO. And so I’m saying… GO… get posting. Be a blessing.

Until next time…

And the saga continues…. we’re up to Part 4.  If you’re new to the story, here is Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3… and seriously, I want to know when God’s shown up in your life… so check back on Monday for a carnival/contest… 

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We talked for nearly two hours in his office.  I can’t tell you what all about as I don’t honestly remember.  I know that I said to him that I thought it was cool that a Pastor had a MySpace page.  (because, you know, when you’re looking for someone to bare your sould to, they should have a MySpace page).

I know that I felt at ease and I admitted to him that I could see something in these people, these people at the church where Matthew played ball.  I wanted what I saw.  I wanted him to tell me that I could just order a dose online or something, but he didn’t.  He told me about these people, about the church, about his life… about his mother, a single one at that… who raised four boys.  He told me the things she did right, and the things that she could’ve improved on.  He was so open, honest, and genuine.

But then he asked me if I was ready to let Him help and I said, “If I not there already, I’m close.”

Silly answer, no?  He knew (as he admitted) that I didn’t like to be pushed and he didn’t push.  And I am ever so grateful as if he would’ve pushed, I would’ve walked out and never come back.  But he was real.  He was honest.  He didn’t put himself above me because he was a Pastor and I wasn’t even a Christian.  But more than anything?

He listened to me.

I came home and talked to Lisa some more.  She gave me Bible verses to read and write about.  She told me to journal, at least 3 pages every day.  Not on the computer… no!  I had to handwrite these thoughts.  Having no other options, I did what she said and talked to her about things.

Pastor Man invited me to church on Sunday.  I told him that I would think about it.  The reality of it was, I had to talk it over with Lisa first.  This church was different.  This wasn’t what I was used to.  Part of me felt like I was cheating on the Episcopal Church because I was going to go to a Wesleyan Church, which is stupid, because I wasn’t going to church at all.. so what did it matter?

After talking to Lisa at length, I told her that I would go.  The kids would be with their dad so I wouldn’t have to worry about them in a strange service and freaking out because these people put their hands in the air when they worshiped.

Saturday rolled around and my friends were all going out.  Downtown.  To a bar.  And I was going.  I was excited.  I told Lisa before I went that I was going to go to church the next day.  I told everyone at the bar that I was going to church the next day.

Yes, as I downed whatever sissy beer I happened to have been bought, I exclaimed that I was going to church.  I’m sure it was a sight.

But when I rolled in the door at 5am, drunker than a skunk and looked at the clock I determined that there was no way in Hades that I was going to church.

I didn’t set the alarm.  In my drunken stupor, I figured that if I was up in time, I would go and if I didn’t then they would be there next week.  After all, what’s one more week?  I’d already missed several already.

At 8am I was awake.  And when I say awake?  I mean WIDE AWAKE.  I couldn’t get back to sleep and tried every bed in the house and the couch trying to get back to sleep. I was tired.  I was hung over. I wanted to sleep.

At 9, when it just wasn’t happening I got up and putzed around the house.  I contemplated going to church.  The reality of it was, I didn’t want to go.  I was afraid, which, at that time, which is how I lived my life — Afraid of everything… taking the car to get inspected, afraid to open the mailbox, afraid to leave the house.  I tried my hardest to talk myself out of it but didn’t really want to tell Lisa that I didn’t make it to church.  I promised her I would go.

I went to church and let me tell you!  They did things much differently than they do at the Episcopal church!  They have a projector and lively music and people praying and crying and I cried… oh boy did I cry.  And I took notes during the sermon.  I had questions like “How come it was okay for David to kill Goliath when the Bible says ‘thou shall not kill’?”

I wrote them all down on my bulletin so that I could ask Lisa when I got home.  And they were so nice to me.  They made me feel so very welcome.

And when I got home, I sent Lisa a little message telling her that I had been to church.  When she asked me about the night before, I told her all the details, including being wide awake at 8am after being out all night.

What she said next amazed me.  She told me that she prayed for a wake up call so that I would get to church!  Praise the Lord!  I often wonder what would happen if I never made it to church that day.

I decided that I would at least look for a church, an Episcopal church, mind you, because I had it in my head that I needed to stay within that denomination.  I prayed that God make it obvious.

After basketball the next Saturday, as I was leaving, five people said, “See you tomorrow.”  I think that was pretty obvious.  I went.  I cried.  I wrote my questions for Lisa and asked when I got home.

For two weeks we went back and forth on saying this prayer of Salvation thing.  I struggled because it was so different from what I knew and bless her!  She’s got the patience of a saint.  She never yelled at me or gave up on me.  I remember those two or three weeks just being horrible.  I did nothing but cry, read the Bible and pray.  But I just wasn’t going to say this prayer.

I was stubborn.

This is part three of my story…. to start at the beginning, you should read Part 1 and Part 2 (DUH!)… and then be ready to share yours… The Carnival will start on Monday… where you can link up and share your God story… so that I can read it and be blessed over and over again!

My life was falling apart.

********

Functioning in the full capacity of a mother was tough. I made it through football season despite the fact that my own introvertedness made it impossible to reach out to other people… My pride stood in the way of asking other parents for help with rides to games and the like.

I beat myself up for missing games, even though I only missed them if I was taking the other child to a game, never because I just didn’t feel like going… and I can assure you… there were many Saturday mornings that I just didn’t feel like going.

Football season ended and my father was adamant about getting Matthew involved in another sport. Matthew was not the athlete. To convince him to play football was nothing short of a miracle. He’d wrestled before and didn’t want to do it again…Period. I did sign Samara up for Upward Cheerleading and asked Matthew several times about playing basketball.

Several times he said no. I was in no mood or frame of mind to argue. I let it go.

We took Samara to her first practice… painstaking as it was. I had just made it through watching her cheer during football, and now I had to suffer through yet another season. Please don’t get me wrong, I love to see my children doing what they love, but cheerleading was not my thing. It’s really just a jealousy issue since I was too fat to be one when I was a child. At the end of her practice, I needed to talk to her coach, and Matthew was on the court with a few of his friends from school.

As we walked out of the gym, Matthew excitedly asked me if it was too late to sign him up for basketball. I turned around, walked back in the gym and asked the coordinator if it was too late. Thankfully it wasn’t and I called the very next day and got him signed up.

The church that Matthew practiced at church that I’d never heard of before. It wasn’t the big ginormous church that Samara was practicing at. (No, that would’ve been too easy to have both of my kids practice at the same place.) I got directions and took him. He played. He seemed to like it and then we attended his first game.

I really didn’t know what these Upward games were all about. I did know that they were Christian based and at churches, but that was the extend of it.

And then this man got up and started talking at halftime. I looked at my ex-husband and said, “oh great, we’re going to get preached at.”

And then he introduced himself as the Pastor, and I was all…”Get out! He doesn’t even look like a pastor.” I don’t know what I thought a pastor should look like. I grew up with religious figures wearing black shirts and white collars. I guess I just assumed that was the way that it was everywhere.

Pastor Man stood there and spoke and I don’t even remember what he said. But at the end, he said, “If you’d like to know more, please come find me or Jason.”

I felt compelled to say something to him, but didn’t. There were too many people, I had the kids, and a gazillion other excuses.

About the same time that basketball started, a friend from the business world (enter Lisa B.) announced that she was leaving the Virtual Assistance (VA) industry and becoming a Biblical Coach. She said that she was looking for guinea pigs and because I love to learn, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt, I told her to sign me up. She had me fill out this questionnaire and it said to be honest. So I was.

I cringed sending it to her but her response was only that she was a lot like me and we began to chat online about different things. I opened up about some of the things going on in my life and one day, I just started to cry. And I told her that I was crying. (Keep in mind, all of these chats are via instant messenger on the computer.)

I admitted to her that when the Pastor spoke that day, I felt compelled to talk to him, but that I hadn’t. The next thing I knew, she was giving me a telephone number. It was the number to the church that Matthew played ball at and she instructed me to call and make an appointment to talk to him.

Was she nuts? I don’t know this guy! What was I possibly going to say to him? But she wasn’t taking no for an answer and so I called.

I prayed that no one would answer the phone. My how I prayed. If he didn’t answer, I could just tell Lisa he didn’t answer and then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.

But he did.

This is part 2 in my story… You can find Part 1 here. Stay tuned for the carnival/contest… and be getting your God stories ready, because I want to hear them…

And so my quest for the perfect Episcopal Church began….

*******

I really did try to find a church. I went a few times, but never found one that we wanted to call home… even though, looking back, many opportunities were put in front of me. There was the church that offered line dance lessons where the people were really nice.

There was the church that a few of the scout families went to and they were really nice too.

There was the church that was just down the street, as in we could walk there, and they were nice.

In fact, I only found one church that wasn’t nice and I say this only because they were very clear in their bulletin that they would not tolerate children making any kind of noise during the service. I didn’t know much about God at that time, but I was pretty sure he loved ALL the little children, even the noisy ones… but if they wanted a quiet church, there was no way that I could bring Samara with me.

I don’t know what it was about any of them other than that they were missing something.  I just didn’t want to be there.  I didn’t FEEL anything and felt that I was forcing myself to be there… just to say that I was there.  In my mind, I wasn’t going to do something just to do something.  So I just didn’t go.

Eleven months after I moved to Richmond, I felt this need to come “home”. Home is such a funny word for me to use since I’m an Army Brat. My parents were no longer in Roanoke, but things just weren’t working out there. That and I met the man that I knew I was going to marry… but he lived here and I didn’t.

So, I moved back to Roanoke and again attempted to find a church home. We attended a few but then would get lax about going and then would feel embarrassed about returning. In an effort to make a commitment to going to church, Matthew made his First Communion and became an Acolyte.

I thought this new level of accountability was just what we needed however, we ended up only going on the Sunday’s that he served and then I would get perturbed because every time we went, someone would welcome me to the church, thinking that I was a visitor. I guess in their minds, I was… but in my mind, I desperately wanted someone to remember me, to know me, to be glad to see me each and every Sunday morning.

And of course, the kids didn’t like that church because Sunday School overlapped with Coffee Hour where the good food was and by the time they were released, it was all gone.

I’ll admit it…I gave up on finding a church because my life was a train wreck and all I wanted to do was sleep. There was no way that I was getting out of my bed on a Sunday when I could lay there and wallow in self pity.

That man that I was convinced I was going to marry? Almost three years we were no longer an item. He moved out.

My father had just broken his three-year silence with me.

My children told me that I was never there for them.

My life was falling apart.

I have been contemplating writing this story for some time, but haven’t found the courage to do so. I’ve been asked many times to share this story, but I haven’t, even though, if you follow Lisa B. at simply His, you’ve heard bits and pieces.

However, this story will be broken up into several different parts and not because I’m prolific. Well, I am, but there are so many pieces to this story that are so utterly important, and that I can’t leave out, that I felt it best to break it up.

And when I’m done, to celebrate the fact that I actually did it, there will be a carnival/contest… because I want to read more stories like mine… and when I say like mine, I simply mean, I want to read about when God showed up in your life.

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I have a story to tell. But mine is just your ordinary, average, run of the mill story… or is it?

You see, I’m not a drug dealer, alcoholic or addict of any kind. I didn’t come to know Jesus while sitting behind bars. I wasn’t homeless or facing eviction. I was just an average, run of the mill 30-year-old woman struggling to find her purpose in life.

And when I say struggling, I mean struggling. I would flip-flop all over the place, trying different things to see if that one thing would bring me the joy that I so desperately wanted, that I so desperately craved.

I had a career, owned a home, and a car. I had two wonderful children and lived in a good neighborhood. My children were smart and well behaved for the most part (after all, they are kids!). They were involved in sports and I was involved in many things centered around their lives. Including the PTA which, I can assure you , never was or will be my purpose.

I came from a two parent home. My parents were good parents and I lived a good life. Sure, I made some mistakes - we all do but for some reason mine seemed to be worse than every one else’s. Mine seemed to cripple me, forcing me to start all over and try again.

But there was something missing. And I’m not talking a man, although there was one missing…I’m talking something greater. Something that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I knew that it wasn’t there and that it should be. I just couldn’t figure out what it was that was so lacking in my life.

I was raised Episcopalian and we went to church every Sunday. It was important to my parents. When I moved out at the ripe old age of 18, I, of course, knew everything and felt that I no longer needed to go to church. The fact of the matter was that I just couldn’t understand why anyone would schedule a service on a Sunday morning… after all, Saturday night was the best party night. Ever. I never made it to one service while in college although I’m sure in one of my letters home to mom, I mentioned that I had. I thought about it, but I never quite made it. Sleep and nursing a hangover was more important.

I had my first child at the age of 20, and then I married his father. My ex-husband was Jewish so he certainly wasn’t interested in going to church however, we went for the traditional Easter and Christmas and this happened through the birth of our second child, Samara. When we divorced, I moved back home and I went to church every Sunday. Because my parents went and because I was living in their home, I was to go too. I can assure that it was not because I WANTED to go.

I loved the church family there. They were nice and they loved my kids (who wouldn’t) and Father Tom was great. But when I moved away to Richmond, my father said, “Find a church.”

And so my quest for the perfect Episcopal Church began….

It’s nice to sit around and think you know what you need to escape whatever personal hell that you’ve created for yourself.

You can plan.  You can make lists.  You can ramble on and on in an email to someone you hardly know that you met online or your closest, most trusted friend in the whole wide world.  But at the end of the day, the reality of it is, there is just one person who knows what you need.

The funny part about it is that it would be too EASY to tell you what you need.  There is no learning if the answers are just put in front of you.  Sometimes, it just has to happen.  And then?  When it’s all done?  You can look back and wonder…

I’m rambling.  I know.  I’m sure I’m making no sense.

I just dried my tears… not from feeling sorry for myself, or because I’m sad.  But because I watched PS I Love You.  I’ve not cried at a movie in so long.  Maybe that’s what I needed?

The smile on the face of someone I highly respect from church and asking me how I was today… was that what I needed?

The fellowship with my church family whom I’ve not seen much of lately due to softball and oversleeping… could that be what I need?

A day with my son…. no phone, just he and I and the gems and minerals… maybe that’s it?

For weeks, I’ve been searching for what I need to pull me out of this pit.  I’ve been searching for something to make me feel valuable, worth something, needed.  Sometimes I’ve felt like I’ve been grasping at straws and I wish I could tell you what sunk me this low.  I would if I could.  But because I don’t know myself, I can’t share it.  Perhaps getting to the root would be helpful.

I felt better today than I have in a long time.  I think that I can contribute it to spending more time with my kids and with me.  Playing games Friday night with the kids, spending the afternoon with my son, the evening with my kids on Saturday…. fellowship with my church family and old friends tonight before retiring to my room to watch a movie that I wanted to see and not one that everyone else wanted.

Yes, I could attribute this feeling to just getting away from life for a little while… but I know that’s not the right answer.

What I’m positive is that this feeling? It’s temporary.  But it will be here until I decide to go back to Jesus and take up what I laid down… when I decide that He’s not handling it the way that I want Him to.  That’s when it will come back.

But I’m hoping praying that I let it stay with Him.  I don’t want it.  I don’t know what to do with it.  I’ve tried to do something with it and it didn’t work and I’ve seen what happens when I lay it down and walk away.

And I like that.

Alot.

Until next time…

My earlier post, at the time it was written, was so random. I even titled it “I have no Idea Where This Came From”…

A letter from the ex, a memory of my mother, an example of how I should be… it was just so completely out there…

For me. And maybe for you.

But not for my God.

Oh no. He had a plan, a purpose for that email that was written over six years ago…. a plan that I would find it… Monday… because that’s when I wrote that post… on Monday.

He needed me to see that email. He needed me to remember that time of my life, the sadness, the hurt, the pain and how my mother came to my side because I needed all of that to be armed for Tuesday.

Tuesday. The day that my daughter found out that her big sister (from the Big Brother Big Sisters Program) is moving. The day that my daughter felt the pain. The day that my daughter needed me… just to be there. To hold her. To offer her tissues and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She found out after our game… in which we lost and to some very snobby, stuck up coaches who thought the game was a sure thing. We gave them a run for their money. They weren’t so smug toward the end.

She was quiet when she got in the car. She didn’t say much at all. The car was somber. Even though I knew what had just happened, no one else did. And she didn’t know that I knew.

And then, faintly over the sound of the radio, I heard her fight back the tears. I peeked back there and saw her trying to wipe them away so that no one would know.

This is when I knew something was wrong. Because Samara is a top notch drama queen. Real tears are quiet. These were real tears… tears she didn’t want to show because that would admit true hurt.

She’s more like me than I thought.

My immediate thought was “let’s go get ice cream” because ice cream fixes everything. Even she wasn’t excited. Not even when she found the new flavor “playdoh”… but she ate it… quietly.

When we arrived home, I shouted for them to get their crap out of my car. Quietly, she did as I asked and then came inside.

As I stepped through the door of the house, I felt it… I felt Him speaking to me saying… “You know what you have to do for her.”

And I did.

We cuddled on the couch to watch American Idol. She laid her head in my lap and was still… so unusal for her. I rubbed her hair and handed her tissues as needed.

Occasionally, she would ask who I wanted to win… claiming herself as a member of the Archie camp. She had my cell phone poised and ready to go. Quietly. Respectfully.

I expected the events of my memory to happen a few years from now. I expected it to be over a boy.

And now?

She’s tucked away in my bed. Sleeping peacefully and for the time being, not aware of the sadness that she faces in losing her big sister.

And I feel horrible that I gave her David Cook’s text in number when she asked for Archie’s.

Until next time…