THE SHOCK FAMILY

  Kid. My favorite name. Dad called me “kid”. So did Aunt Ruth. My brother Bill does sometimes. Kev does a lot. Oh, and one teacher at Snider. I think he thinks I’m younger than he is. I’ve got him by about 5 years. I’m not gonna ever tell him. I like when he says it. Why? What feelings does it bring up? Kid and Kiddo. I know I really am a kid at heart. I just somehow think it makes me feel safe. Protected. Like someone older and wiser cares about me. Is looking out for me. Knows me enough to call me “kid”. I’m the baby of our family. Not only my immediate family. Also the baby of all the cousins on both sides. And you know what they say about that, right? Once the baby, always the baby. I’m pretty sure I was spoiled. Spoiled rotten? Hmmm... Maybe? But I will say I have spent a good amount of my adult life trying to figure out what is going on with the kid inside of me. Just who little Karen was and still is. What makes her afraid and what brings her ...

The touch tree. Who I am. Everything God has made me to be. All my experiences? They are the soil.  My past, all mixed in together. The good and the bad. The hardest moments. The most glorious times. All working together for good. All growing me into me. Producing a tree that gives fruit. That needs to be watered. Rained on. In order to bring life. To flourish. These hard memories. The brokenness. The tears. They aren’t for nothing. The hope that springs up from the ground. The love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and self control. It all comes from the depths of the Earth. Rooted in Jesus. My weaknesses and hardships. My times of weeping and pain. Grow me up to be a strong, steady, place of refuge. Learning today to be grateful for the soil of my life. Thank you @glennondoyle for the beautiful illustration.  I want this to sink deep down into my soul.

  Today is one of the good ones. (May 12, 2021) Can I even write on this kind of day? So many times I don’t. Mostly because I’m superstitious and don’t want to jinx anything. What if I say I’m doing great and then something tragic happens? God wouldn’t want me to get to comfortable here. Even when I’m happy, I have a sense of impending doom. All part of the anxiety. I’m standing behind my desk in school, listening to fun music while I eat my lunch, all the while looking over my shoulder, wondering what is coming for me. Look, I just turned a fun post into a not so fun one. I am learning that my questions about life, my grief, and my general sense of uneasiness is warranted. You see, those of us with anxiety? Maybe we  aren’t so crazy. Maybe, just maybe, we have our eyes open. We see the World as it is. We ask questions about God because we care. I’ve been asking questions about how the World turns since I was a small child. I’ve always had a sense of the nearn...

  I used to think that the power of the Holy Spirit was about a certain kind of power. Like…  Power ranger power. Superhero power. Strong. Brave. Able to go be a missionary in a scary place. Standing up for Jesus. Saying no to sin. Not drinking, cussing, or gossiping. Ya know? That kind of power. Here’s what I’m learning. There is a certain kind of power that is talked about in Ephesians 3. A different kind than what I thought. It says that we, being rooted and established in love, would have the power to grasp how deep and wide the love of God is. A love that surpasses knowledge. Ok. Back it up. Paul is praying for us to be strengthened by the Holy Spirit. But for what? Why do we need strength? Strength for what? What kind of power are we talking about? The power to know. To know God’s love. To understand this love. It must not be easy. He is on his knees, praying we can get this. Then it says if we do grasp it? We will be filled to the measure o...

Seems like a good day to write about this. It’s actually more of a coincidence (that I’m talking about it) than anything else. Alyssa and I were a part of an important discussion the other day. It was a long time coming. I had my listening ears on. Believing she was about to speak some truth into my life. She was gracious with her words. She is pretty terrific about saying hard things in a loving way. It all started when family was sitting around the kitchen table talking about parenting. How everyone could be better in this area. We were chatting about the whole “Fun Heilshorn Family” aspect of life. She brought up the time we were at Cedar Point (she was 9) and I pretty much made her ride the Magnum. Oops. She hated it. I honestly thought she would love it. We all did. You know, part of “fun” our family had. Once again, She hated it. And here’s the deal… I’ve said I was sorry many times since then. I knew I pretty much scarred her that day. But, on this day? She was ready to explain ...

Dad, 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 ...

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. dang.it. 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. honestly? 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. living. really living. there are moments, yes, wh...

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...

#raptureanxiety. 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? Running. 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. Ok. Deep breath. I just found the darn movie on youtube. Watched some of it to make s...

New day. New thoughts. New words. Trying to do this every day. Make myself write something. My Prozac journey. Coming off the darn stuff. One week into it. I've been on an antidepressant for three years now. It has worked for me. I went on the Prozac because at the time I couldn't stop crying. Anxiety mixed with depression. I was used to the anxiety. But the crying??? I'm sure it had a whole lot to do with Dad's death. There were other factors playing in. Perfect storm. I reluctantly took my first dose. Within a couple of weeks I was functioning more like myself... The tears had stopped. I could go to the grocery store. It was a welcome relief. Since then, my anxiety and ocd has been up and down. But, I will tell you what... There have not been many tears. Almost none. Maybe a few. But almost none. I told my doctor last week that I am ready to feel again. Ready to shed some tears... On the dark days... As well as the happy days. One thing...

I had a dream. Last night. So real. So memorable. Need to write it down. Some of the women from our church were hanging out. Ready to take a hike in the woods. It had just rained. Inches and inches of rain. A muddy mess. I thought for sure we would cancel the hike. Can you imagine walking in that? But... as I looked in front of me. My friends were taking off their shoes. They were rolling up their pants. Ready for the challenge. Are you kidding me? We're doing this? We're really doing this? Yep. Let's go. It's gonna get messy. We are about to get dirty. Real dirty. There may be snakes and probably lots of bugs. Mosquitos. And I'm a magnet for mosquitos. Dangit. Ok. Oh... and no men are with us. Just us girls. And there is a little laughter. Some talk of grounding. You know... going barefoot is good for you? Well then. Let's hike. I woke up this morning and actually thought about going on a hike today. It would be muddy. The ...

Friday ~ November 3, 2017 I need to write. In a safe place. An area where I'm free to be myself and tell my thoughts. My learnings. My leanings. Every day I'm growing. Eyes are opening. Breathing deeper. Excited to explore. Claudia told me this week that I am "courageous". Fearful and timid seem more like it. But, oh how I long to be what she said. Podcast I was listening to yesterday said to make a list. Three adjectives. Words I want to be true of me in five years. Hmmmm.... He said high achievers will make this list. I decided to be a "high achiever".  1.)  Joyful (full of joy).  2.)  Healthy (stop seeing myself as a disease waiting to happen).  3.)  Courageous (for real... excited about what this life has to offer). I want to say "I'm not afraid anymore!" I want to trust God with my life. Not a naive look at life. But a deep gut level belief that I am loved by God. That we all are. I went to the doctor a couple o...

5 years Forever And yet? Just yesterday. Oh Dad, How can I miss you as much as I do? Still. Absent from here for five years. And yet? Still very present in all of our lives. We had to pull out our old memory box this week. Lance was wanting to wear Kevin's Varsity jacket on "dress like your parents day" at school. He's a senior, ya know. For real. Our baby is in his last year. I saw a picture in that box of you, m and me at my graduation. You looked young. Happy to have your arm around me. Proud of me. Your baby. The last of five. Your favorite. I know. I kid. And yet, I think we all felt that way, Dad. Remember the "tunnel tunnels"? Those forever tunnel going under the mountains on our way to Virginia? If I close my eyes I can still feel like I'm sitting on the hump in our front seat... ~The "car seat" of the 1970's~ And you are pretending to be scared as you drove us t...