Letter To Dad ~ Year 7

Here's the thing... seven years without you and I still miss you something terrible. I still can hear your voice and see your silly grin.

What I keep thinking about these days is how much I want your legacy to live on... through me and through all of us. And in some crazy kind of way? I think it kind of is.

Let me tell you why...

Little Livia (side note, I so wish you could have known you) gave me a homemade card on the first day of our family vacation last month. You know what it said? "Grandma, I love you very much and can't wait to dance for you this week!"  I know right??? It sounds like something one of your kids/grandkids would have written to you. I'm growing up to be like my daddy.  Tears of joy flow freely when I watch our little ladies dance for me.

The tears come more now... and I don't mind. The joy of seeing our Alayna walk down the aisle to marry Jake (another side note - I wish he would have known you).  Watching Sawyer perform in The Ohio…

Adventures in Anxiety

when people don't understand.
when they tell you "satan is having a field day in your mind".
when they tell you "if you just had good, sound biblical teaching"...
and you just stare back at them.
shocked by their words...
their inability to grasp what you are saying.
no... no... that isn't what i'm saying.
forget it.
forget i said anything.
and you walk away wondering what they will tell others.
this happened to me last night.
it happens a whole lot.
well meaning people who are trying to fix me.
trying to convince me that "getting over" anxiety is easy.
i was more stunned last night than usual.
i'm still shaking my head just thinking about it.
right now... i can feel myself shaking my head as i type this.
i don't need "fixed".
i'm alright.
like i said in my facebook video the other day...
i have been living with this for 24 years.
really living.
there are moments, yes, when it gets the best of m…

Letter to Dad - Year 6

Why is this day so tough?
Beautiful and painful.
Remembering my daddy.
Celebrating his life.
Grieving his absence.
Believing he is in a better place .
And yet... hoping he is somehow right here with us.
Cheering us on along the journey.

A LETTER TO DAD ~ Year 6 ~

Remember how you used to call me “kiddo”?
Today, more than ever, I would love to hear your voice on the phone “Whatcha doin Kiddo?”.
I can hear it in my mind.
I think I still can, anyway.
It’s been 6 years.
How does time just keep marching on?
How have we all gone on in life without you?
Well, I’ll tell ya one thing...
Not without tears.
Missing you has become a part of my life.
Wonderful, amazing, miraculous moments have happened since you’ve been gone.
And in every last one of them?
There is a tinge of sadness.
A hint of something/someone missing.
A split second thought...
Dang, I wish Dad could see this.
Dad would have loved this.
Orvie tears would be being shed.
Oh man, Dad... I have become an Orvie tear shedder.
At Kessa…

Why Didn't Someone Tell Me?

Could have my depression been caused by being a stay at home mom?
The long days of same.
The never feeling like I quite measure up.
Oh, and the "I'll do it tomorrow" because, ya know...  tomorrow is the same as today.

And when the depression and anxiety set in...
You start believing that you couldn't be out in the real world.
You wouldn't make it out there.
Depressed people don't do well out there.
Anxiety in public would be awful.

So stay in.
Try to pray away the anxiety and depression.
And as the years go by, watch it become a part of your identity.

That has been me.
25 years of staying home.
Some getting out and coaching... but that was only in short spurts.
I will admit though, it felt good to get out a bit.

For the most part, it was stay home and feel all the guilt of a messy house, laundry,  and food to cook.
Oh, and then there is was homeschooling.
A constant bombarding of thoughts about not being good enough.
Never doing enough.
Kicking my own butt in…

Who Am I? (A prayer)

Lord Jesus,

Please help me to know how to live.
Please show me the way.
Why does everything seem so upside down??
So scary?

I don’t want easy, God.
Maybe I do.

Why does it all seem so confusing?
Is there something you want me to do?
Please make it clear.
Something to write?
Show me.
A cause to champion?
Well then, I want to do just that.

Put me in coach.
But do I have to get beat up?
Battle wounds?
Does that have to be part of the game?

You know I am not strong.
You know I feel inadequate.
There are others out who will speak better.
Stick with it better.
Know what to say and when to say it better.

Is it women?
Black Lives Matter?
Anxiety issues?

The underdog.
The ones who don’t feel adequate.
The ones who live in shame of who they have been told they are.
Who tell themselves who they are.

What is my role?
Not just to tell my story.
Or is it just that?
Our story.
Your story, God.

The story of me... trying to find my place in this World.
Struggling …

Why Write?

What is it about writing? About putting my thoughts down on paper. They are scattered, I know. I don't think/type in full sentences. Probably drives my English teaching friends nuts. But it is where I find freedom. A sort of rest for my soul... and my brain. The deep, dark thoughts come spilling out onto the page and there is relief.
I understand not everyone wants to read my word vomit, and I have to learn to be ok with that. People even make fun of the way I write. Ugh... it hurts. But again, I'm not for everyone. God knows my heart in all of this. He knows my wonderings and my ability to head into a la la land of sorts. And in my writings? Somehow, there is a sense of coming back to center much of the time. Haha... not that my life is centered. I've always been a little off kilter.  
January is always a rough month for me. Coming off the holidays.  All the food, the hustle and bustle and busyness of the season. Heading straight into a vast nothingness. A cold, icy, seem…

Rapture PTSD

There it is.
I have had it.
I think in some sort of odd way...
I still have it.
Not scared it is going to happen anymore.
Just scared of bringing up the feelings.
All that went along with the ridiculous rapture talk.
In the 4th grade when I first heard about it.
Watch a movie.
A Thief in the Night/A Distant Thunder.
Let me say it again...
4th grade.
Went along with my parents to a high school event.
New Years Eve.
Sat in the back and watched in horror.
What is this?
People disappearing in the middle of the night.
Planes crashing.
Cars wrecking.
People reeling.
And then...
The people who were left behind?
No food.
Fires and death.
And then?
They had to choose.
Get the mark of the beast or get their heads chopped off.
That's how it ended.
The star of the movie up on the platform ready to die.
The sound of the guillotine.
Lord help us all.
Deep breath.
I just found the darn movie on youtube.
Watched some of it to make sure I was remembering right.
Oh... …