THE SHOCK FAMILY

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

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.

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. Ok. 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? Scars? 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? Immigrants? LGBTQ? Anxiety issues? Hmmm... 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... tr

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