Grateful for the Year

It's January 1st, and I haven't blogged in months, so of course I'm going for it today. I saw a video about this project called 365grateful, and it moved me. The woman talks about how just looking for one thing every day to be thankful for changed so much: her appreciation of nature, her kids, God, and the way she looked at her husband.

I've tried the daily blogging before, and it worked for a while. I'm not expecting to keep it up every day, but the goal will keep me writing more than without it.

Today has been a rough day. Even though we didn't party last night, we were all up late and we're all tired. There are four days left until the kids go back to school, and I'm nearing the end of my fuse. So seeking out something specific to be grateful for and write about was important to me.

I wanted to go for a very short run, and the kids needed to get some energy out, so we all went across the street to the park. I ran with the dog, and Seth stayed with the kids while they played.

When I came back, they were playing with two boys, running, dragging each other, and throwing a Frisbee. I'm thankful for the energy and spirit of my kids, even on the days when I'm afraid it's going to kill me. I'm thankful for their openness and ease in making friends, even if they never find out their names or follow any sort of manners or adult-recognizable social code in the process.

A life of film

Today Roger Ebert died, and I was trying to figure out why it bummed me out so. I mean, I'm usually sad when anyone dies, but this felt a little different. Then I noticed that he's always reminded me of my Grandma Maki, even though they don't look alike or anything.

Aaaah. Movies. I always watched movies with my Grandma. She was very cool. She figured out how to set her VCR to tape things, and had me borrow tapes with movies she loved and knew I should watch. That's how I saw Educating Rita. My Grandma even appreciated Die Hard and Terminator 2-- that's how cool she was. She took my sister and I to see E.T. when it came out, and we each had little, leather E.T. dolls with us. She took me to see The Muppet Movie. On one awkward evening, we rented Children of a Lesser God from the library, thinking that it couldn't possibly contain anything worth being Rated R. I don't recommend watching sex scenes with your grandma.

One of the last times we went out together was to see A Beautiful Mind followed by Applebee's. I was tired and crabby and criticized the movie, even though she loved it. I hate remembering that day. On a funnier note, when I bought Monsoon Wedding, I had her borrow it because I thought she'd like it. She must have been having quite a confused day because she later reported that she threw it out because she couldn't understand anything and why had I brought her a porno?!

She always subscribed to People Magazine, so that's how I first read Entertainment Weekly, which is truly a big part of my life. She also introduced me to Ebert & Siskel and the whole world of movie reviews. Oh, she loved it. It was one of the shows she watched and I loved watching it with her. (Did you know that I wrote a couple film reviews in college? Matt and I dabbled with a rating system from -5 to +5, with 0 being "It was a movie.")

So I guess that by Ebert dying, I feel like another little part of my Grandma is gone. One less thing that I didn't even realize reminded me of her.

photo credit: Articulate MediaWorks via photopin cc

I swore I was never going to do this (Part 2).

As you may be able to pick up from the (Part 2) in the title, this is a continuation of a post from two days ago. Feel free to look at that if you haven't yet. Today I will get into more of the specifics of how Seth and I became foster parents and why we don't have biological children. Let's jump right into it, shall we?

Why don't we have biological children? We really didn't want them. Well, at least for most of our marriage. When we were engaged, I still wanted kids. Oh, did I. I was especially fond of toddler boys. Oof! I'd see a little man dressed in a plaid shirt and I'd whisper to Seth, "Take him!" (Clearly, I was joking. We're not kidnappers, y'all.) Then I started some nanny jobs, and I quickly got over my desire to have kids.

Believe me, I adore my now-goddaughters who I nannied back then, so this isn't about them being bad or difficult or anything. It was just that spending lots of time with them and the other kids I watched was so boring. And sure, there was the screaming in the car that made me very grateful that someone else was going to be in charge shortly, but there was also the knowledge that your life was no longer your own once you had kids. Good or bad, your lives are wrapped together. If your kid is depressed or messed up, so are you. I didn't want that, and Seth was always fine with whatever I wanted, so we went with that. And almost daily, we could look at kids being obnoxious or demanding and we'd look at each other and just say, "Reason #947 why we don't want kids."

So I got Norplant the year after we were married, and when the five years of that was up, Seth got a vasectomy. See? We were serious. The only reason we didn't do the vasectomy earlier is because we knew that doctors would give us a hard time or flat-out refuse since we were so young and didn't have any kids yet. We had thought long and hard about it, and we did. not. want.

Many people were concerned that we might change our minds and someone who will remain nameless even wondered if I was being fair to Seth, because what if I died and he wanted kids with his new wife? It was so lovely to talk to one woman who had never had kids, who when I said, "But everyone says I'm going to change my mind when I'm 35," just matter-of-factly answered, "Then you change your mind." It was not the end of the world.

Jump ahead some years, and as predicted, my ovaries started twitching at 35. I started having baby dreams, including one that I now think may have been about my niece. In that one, I was playing with a fabulous, blond, 1 year old girl. We were just having the greatest time kissing and laughing, and when I woke up, I missed her. I was sad all day. Another found me arguing with my cousin over babies found in little dirt piles on the sides of hills, as if they had been planted. A third dream, which was so clearly about adoption or foster care, was one where I was going down a road (through redwoods, I remember), and there was a man on the side of the road with his 3 or 4 year old daughter, and their car wasn't working or something. I stopped, went back to them, and said, "I'll take care of her."

We had always talked about adoption, but I was never going to do foster care. I did not need my heart being trampled upon like that. No, sir. But I know now that I was made for this. As hard and crappy as it has been, this calling is the most clear thing ever in my life. Believe, me, I'm often tempted to quit. The first five days we had our first placement, I felt nothing, she was difficult, and I wanted our old life back. When kids keep leaving, I want to say, "Screw this. I'll get a job, we won't have kids, and we'll travel and have money." And then I go by the children's group home and see a couple boys out playing basketball and I immediately think, "Do you want to come live with us?" Or I remember the day I was looking over a website with available kids (I call it petfinder for kids and I kind of hate it.), most of whom were older and/or handicapped, and I wept and told God that we'd do this, even if we didn't want to.

We weren't just pushed out of the nest, but I often say that God pushed us off a cliff. With many people around us adopting, the thought was popping up more and more, with Seth even saying, "Well, we'll probably be foster parents eventually," and me yelling at him, "Why would you say that? We don't want kids!" Watching the news after the earthquake in Haiti, I thought, "Okay. Send me one of those toddlers," (obviously not knowing that some people were totally exploiting the situation and taking kids.). We put that on the back burner though, because we lived in a one bedroom apartment and didn't have the money to move. But then a family situation arose and we thought we may be adopting someone, so we dove right into foster care classes and the licensing process.

I have a few posts already written from that stressful time period. Suddenly, my life was totally different and I wanted kids. I cried and felt like I was very much in a desert place with my faith and life because we were waiting on so many things to happen before we could just freaking get kids in our house.

It's scary every time a new kid comes to our house. We have adored and wanted to keep every kid that has lived with us. I've thought 5 different kids were going to be mine forever, and they're not. They'll always be my kids, but I won't see all of them and be their mommy every day. Our hearts were completely ripped out last summer when we were unable to keep the 1yo girl who lived with us, partially by our choice. Our fabulous 5yo daughter who lived with us for 15 months moved back in with her mom two weeks ago, and that's awesome. We hung out with her today, and she's still calling us momma & daddy. She's down with having a big, complicated family. In fact, next Saturday we're going to the 2nd birthday party of the girly who lived with us last summer, because they'll always be sisters.

I really hope that some of you are reading this and realizing that you could totally do this. Oh, it sucks. Believe me. But it's important. And we know how much you all support us. We have amazing friends and family and we appreciate all of your encouragement and prayers and rolling with making another new kid feel like part of the family.

If you can, please donate whatever you can to the Redwood Empire Foster Parent Association. This money makes it possible that every kid comes into our home with a big duffel bag of new clothes, a hand-made blanket, some jammies, books, and toys that are just for them. That way, I won't have to put any more two year olds to bed in one of my t-shirts on her first night in a scary place. ;)

http://www.humanracenow.org/goto/odundore

I swore I was never going to do this.

Many people are understandably curious about how Seth and I ended up as foster parents and why we don't have any biological children, so I thought I'd start telling that story, or at least tell a condensed version of it. I will try my best to not use the words "journey" or "calling," but I can't promise you anything. Actually, I can go ahead and promise you that I will use "call" or "calling," because that's the only way I can describe some of it.

Not long after we moved to Texas in the early 80's, my mom had dreams about having babies that turned out to be toddlers, and she knew that these were messages from God telling her that she was supposed to go into foster care. (Crazy start, huh?) My sister and I were around 5 & 9, and my parents were only 27 &  32. When I look at my life and the stages my siblings and I are in compared to my parents, I can't even wrap my mind around all of it. I'm 38 and I barely handled having 2 kids for 3 months last summer, and my mom had two children and started taking in foster kids when she was 11 years younger than me. We have had very different paths.

We had two kids living with us while we lived in Texas. One boy went back to his parents, and when our family had to move back to Michigan, the little girl who lived with us moved in with a different foster family. It was awful leaving her.

Back in Michigan, my parents got licensed as foster parents again and my sisters came to live with us when I was in 8th grade. They lived with us for about 3 years, with my youngest sister coming to our house straight from the hospital after she was born. They eventually went back to their mother, and it was one of the hardest things ever. It was one of the worst things that has ever happened to my mom; to lose her baby like that.

A couple other girls lived with us during that time, and I had always thought we just took care of them briefly or as respite, but no, they lived with us for a while. My parents had five kids sometimes. I can't get my head around that. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised, as they both came from households with five kids. And now that I think about it, my parents will end up having raised five kids. Me & Beck, my once-foster sisters who both ended up coming back, and our nephew/brother. Funny.

I think that's where I'll end this part. I'll get more into the specifics about me & Seth tomorrow or the next day. My point is to tell our story for the curious, and also to show you that we are just normal people doing something that almost anyone could do.

Please consider supporting our work with children in foster care by donating to my fundraising efforts for the Human Race. I'm raising money for the Redwood Empire Foster Parent Association (REFPA) and this money goes towards supplying every child who comes into emergency care with a big ol' bag full of clothes, jammies, a blanket, a stuffed animal, and some books. These bags are so important both to the kids and to us as foster parents. We couldn't possibly be prepared for every size of kid who may come in, and these bags help us to clothe them and get them settled in their first few days before we can go shopping for them.
Thank you so much.
http://www.humanracenow.org/goto/odundore

Don't I know you?

I've recently gotten back in touch with one of my cousins, and it's fantastic. Even though he's four years older than me, we were kind of close for a while there, mostly once he was in college and then when I was. The Hitchhiker's Guide was on my radar thanks to him, as well as a number of 80's bands that he and his brother would talk about in their furnished basement with a bar (fancy!).

When he went away to Michigan State, his mom took me with her to visit him at least once, if not more. She let me drive, which was very exciting, and I quickly learned that it's important to slow down when getting off the freeway, especially with a curved exit ramp. What else did I learn? That college life is really expensive, as he lived in a corner of a basement and paid a lot of money for it, that college students are disgusting (piles of garbage in the kitchen), and that the above parking garage was nicknamed the Human Habitrail. (I was certain that his genius mind had come up with that on his own.)

Once I was in college, we actually hung out from time to time, which was great. A few times, when my parents were out of town, he came to stay with me, even though I was quite able to stay by myself. I just didn't want to. Those times, we would hang out, I'd criticize his choice of girlfriend, and he even went out with me & my friends a few times.

He's smart, creative, hilarious, and I love him. But life, marriage, kids, family drama, and geography conspired against us, and we've gone many years at a time without talking at all and definitely not seeing each other. This time it was the impending death of our grandmother that put us in touch again. The day she died, I tried the work e-mail I had for him to let him and his mom know what was going on, since my mom couldn't get in touch with my aunt.

As we wrote back and forth, we both declared that it couldn't happen again; that we needed to stay in each other's lives. So we have continued. Three months have passed now, and we're still in touch. Sure, you could scoff, but I say that's pretty good. We're writing at least once per week, we've each shared writing with the other, and we're laughing and being honest. What makes me so happy is the pleasant surprise that he's still him. A few messages into our exchange, I was laughing and realized, "Oh, yeah! I totally love you! I forgot about that."

Plus, we have to stay in touch because I owe him a black eye from my first decade. There's a foil ball coming for you, cousin.



photo credit: Elizabeth/Table4Five via photopin cc

Kickin' back, reading for fun, yo.

Hi, friends.  This is the first I've blogged since Thursday since I haven't been in a house with an internet connection.  So sorry.

I'm still adjusting to being out of school, so I'm still doing that thing where I feel a twinge of guilt & think that there must be something I should be doing, and then I remember FREEDOM and I sit back down.  Aaaaaahhhhhh.   It's lovely. 

Right now, I'd say I'm in the midst of 2 books, kind of 3, ignoring a 4th that is the one I meant to read this weekend.  Hmmmm....I should pick that one up. 
I'm currently focusing on Perelandra, which is a short read and I may finish tomorrow.  I haven't had a lot of reading time this weekend before this evening, though.  What I need to get on is College Ministry 101.  I tell you, friends, I'm hoping for some real gems there.  Knowledge.  Downloaded into my brain.  Revelations.  But my expectations aren't too high or anything. 

Tomorrow is Labor Day, and we will grill a tri-tip somewhere, preferably with a few family members.  Sleeping in is also on the agenda, and I want to go for a run at the high school track. 

What else have I been reading?  Ads for apartments and lots of websites about family law.  It's a glorious time.

How many times does "moon" appear?

Today has been a busy day, but it's lovely.  After staying up most of the night and working a little today, I can be done with my first paper if I want to be.  I'll go over it a bit over the next few days, tweaking & maybe adding enough to make it a solid 10 pages. 

Three hours of sleep is all I got, and I drowsily donated blood and read some C.S. Lewis essays on fiction (now unnecessary) before heading down to SFO to get one of my goddaughters.  My head about exploded due to only one security line being open, but I finally obtained the girl and made it out of the city. 

In an effort to get my page length, I flipped through the Chronicles looking for another example of the things I already pointed out, but eventually realized I had a shiny, new point to make!  That was fun.  So I pulled up the trusty Amazon search and looked for "moon" in all of the books (well, the one, big copy of them all).  No, I haven't resorted to listing objects and the frequency of their appearance, but I had an idea that the Moon was sometimes more than just a moon, so I wanted to see all the uses.  Turns out I'm kind of right.  That's always  nice. 

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, etc.

I may have read Prince Caspian today, too, but I was more interested in Voyage.  I found it quite difficult to skim because I haven't read it in some years (7 or 8) and, with the movie coming out soon, I wanted to read the details.  I did skim a bit, but found myself slowing down and wanting to savor.  I just about clapped when Lucy, Edmund, & Eustace got to the field with the feast laid out by the Lamb.  I love the imagery!!  And Reepicheep??!!!  He is seriously awesome.  Love him.

I just started on The Silver Chair, which I remember not liking.  It may be because I don't like villains & so I'm not real fond of the time spent with the giants and worrying about being eaten.  We'll see how I feel.  I'll likely skim a lot, because I'm really just looking for things about Aslan. 

My sister will be here in less than an hour, and I've been cleaning off & on today while trying to focus on reading.  I've had mixed results.  Sure, I read 2 books, but I wanted to finish all 7 by tonight. 

So, I'm going to read a few chapters, wait for Seth to call me from In-N-Out in Rohnert Park, I will place my order with him, then do some last-minute cleaning just so my sister isn't completely disgusted by our house.  I swear, if I didn't ever have company, my house would never be cleaned. 

Magazines and Nametags

Today was a lovely day spent with my sister.  We both slept in quite late, then got ourselves ready to do some running around.  First, we went over to ADI and played with the 3 litters of puppies that are there, including 3 teeny, tiny pups just born via c-section two days ago.

We then went by the library where I picked up Storm Glass, by Maria V. Snyder, the last week's EW, and Perelandra, which I'll be reading for class. I also returned a book that I thought I returned, but Seth found it in my car after I filed a "claim returned" at the library.  Oh, well. 

Then, we had a great time at the park.  We moseyed around a bit, then I had a great 1/2 hour run while my sister moseyed on her own.  We both stood in the lake for a while, then got b.o.g.o. burritos for dinner.  Ahhhh, good day.

Tonight was the kick-off for Big Time, our yearly, week-long party for the junior high students at church.  Last year, I was a small group leader, but I decided to pass on that this year.  I don't like corralling and having to discipline more and keep students in line, which is why it bothers me so much when my high school girls are overly-wacky.  So, this year, I'm working in registration, which is a breeze.  I sit in the back office with some of my favorite students while they put kids' info into the database & make nametags.  I, then, have the fabulous job of cutting the nametags out and putting them into lanyards.  It's a rough job. 
Of course, I also got to help put garbage bags over all the chairs in the sanctuary, since many of the kids were going to be quite wet and/or dirty from the insane games they were playing. 

I'm going to keep trying to just borrow EW from the library and not subscribe again.  I just love magazines.  I did, in fact, subscribe to Rolling Stone since I got an offer of 6 months for $1.  I don't necessarily care to read about music that much, but my love for magazines will carry me through.  I also got a free subscription to Christianity Today, which I have also had on and off over the past few years. 

Ah, magazines.  Such an excellent way to have little snippets of entertainment when I need it.

Hasta mañana. 

Ooh! Famous Bloodlines!

I'm addicted to ancestry.com and I'm having a great time trying to go back as far as I can to see where my family came from.  Along the way, I've had a few surprises. 

I've found out that I'm not as Irish as I thought, which bums me out.  My grandma always thought that my grandpa was 100% Irish, but he was only 1/2 or 1/3.  I'm just as French and English as I am Irish. 

Also, going into this, I thought that I'd certainly get a couple hundred years back, being that we have names, papers, and dates.  The ways I've always defined myself: German, Irish, and Finnish?  They've left me out in the dark.  The English and the French, though?  I'm all the way back to the 10th century, and it's a lot of fun.

Of course, I now need to go through and double-check those family members, because as I get my bearings on the site, I'm starting to learn the lame tricks or lazy things that people do to keep their trees going.  What is the #1 favorite thing for people to do?  Insert a famous person! 

Believe me, I want to be related to Queen Elizabeth I so bad I can taste it, and I do get geeked when I see a famous name pop up on a tree, but I also have a healthy skepticism and the internet, so I do a search when, oh William Wallace pops up in my direct line, y'know, just to check things out.  Oh, lookee there!  It turns out that it's really easy to check on the actual family relations of historical figures and especially royalty!  So, no, so far I'm not related to any rebel leaders, high kings, Lady Godiva (seriously), or Elizabeth Tudor.  I'm not even related to the guy who saved the life of Henry VIII (her dad!) once & got a title for it.  I checked.

Additionally, I'm pretty sure that most women didn't have their first kids when they were 5, or their last one when they were 80.  Now, I was dubious about the late-30's and 40's for mothers, but I poked around and found out that women had children quite late back in the day.  They pretty much started at puberty and didn't stop until a) menopause or b) death, whichever came first.

I am, however related to Gov. John Winthrop, 1st gov. of Mass., and a founder.  My family has been in the New World for hundreds of years, both in Canada and in the Colonies.  My family has been a part of Michigan and Detroit for hundreds of years- when Detroit was still a French territory.  And George Washington is a distant cousin, as I'm sure he is for a bajillion people. 

Overall, I'm having a lot of fun, though I do get frustrated every day with the stupidity of some people and what they'll blindly put on their trees and then allow to proliferate.  Now, if you'll excuse me, instead of going to bed, I have to go double check and see if I really am 1,456,894th in line for the throne of Belgium.

2009- Man, am I glad it's over

I gotta tell ya, I don't feel like writing right now. (Gee! Thanks, Robin! I'm sure this will be GREAT!)  I know that I should write, though.  I can't believe I've only written once this month, when I know I have thoughts rolling around in my head.

Nutshell? I'm pretty depressed.  It's not like I'm crying and in the depths of despair, but more a conclusion I've come to or something I finally saw.  I have zero motivation to do anything other than play Bubble Town or be on FB & Twitter all day.  And I'm tired of it.

I don't like the way I live my life.  God & my husband don't allow me to not work so that I can get fatter and fatter and also get carpal tunnel.  I'm supposed to be doing things.  I'm supposed to take better care of my husband and house, I'm supposed to be volunteering more, I'm supposed to be reading and studying and hanging out with people I care about and exercising and playing real instruments, not just plastic ones.

Usually I'm not a big fan of shoulding on myself, but this is more than a guilt trip: it's a not quite rock bottom that I would like to be a turning point.  I'm clear about these things.

The year started oddly: my sister, who I probably love more than anyone in the world besides Seth, was in the hospital.  After about a month, I just couldn't stand it anymore and, after dropping my classes, went to Michigan to be with her.  I woke up one night just crying and freaking out because I couldn't stand the thought of her being alone in the hospital when my mom couldn't be there (and her husband was deployed).

The doctors were really being pessimistic and all but assuring her that her daughter would die, but we didn't believe them.  There are plenty of stories online about women in similar situations whose babies lived.  I, for one, expected Adi to be born premature and puny, but that she'd live.  Sure, complications were to be expected, but they'd be gotten past.  But she did die.

My sister had a horrible, terrifying c-section while my brother-in-law watched their daughter get yanked out of her, and then he watched her die after an hour.  My sister never saw her or held her alive.

The same day that my niece died, my friend's brother was accidentally shot and killed.  Let's cancel January 23rd from now on, okay?

I was in MI for a month, mourning and comforting as best I could, but I also had a good time with my friends and family.  A few days after my sister got out of the hospital, we went to Costco and my brother-in-law and I cracked up watching her try to run people down in the scooter/cart.  I got to see lots of my friends multiple times, I got drunker than ever before with one of my best friends and some guys from high school, I got together with some online friends, saw a Red Wings game, and got sick of winter.

After I was home for a few weeks, I went to stay with my sister for 2 weeks in North Carolina.  We had a great time, and we also got to visit our cousin and her family in Richmond, which was fabulous.

A lot of the year was good: I went to CHIC with the youth group, Seth and I had a great 10th anniversary vacation in the NW, and I had a fabulous class this fall.

This was also an expensive year, and my car currently sits dead in the driveway.  All told, I was out of my bed & away from home for almost 4 months this year.

I've been worried a lot this year.  About my sister, brother-in-law, parents, another sister who has been depressed and confused, the messed-up sister who lost both her kids but is pregnant with a third, about everything that could be worried about for my husband, about money, the marriages of multiple friends-- you name it.  I know I don't need to worry, and I sometimes do a good job of casting stuff on God.  But not enough, apparently. 

I stopped working with two ministries and added another one, which is still finding its rhythm.

I didn't really like our Christmas.

I want a house.

I want a best friend in California.

I've stayed on medicine, which I want to double, but I don't want to do that arbitrarily.  I can't ask my doctor do up my prescription, because I still haven't seen anyone about my depression.  I didn't think I needed to before, but maybe I do.  Maybe if I talked to someone about my stupid lack of motivation and what appears to be self-sabotage, I'd get somewhere.  I know that Jesus is helping me and I don't have to do all this on my own.

I'm just tired.  And I'm excited about this year being over.  I know it has been weird, and I want it to go.  I want to start over- start fresh.  Though some may call that naïve, I know that I can start fresh. I can start over right now, if I wanted to.  I've been trying for about 2 weeks now to change; to think in a new way.

I just keep sitting back down.

Long time, no see

Hello, bloggity-blog and the readers out there. Of course, the majority of you that come here are looking for a poster of "A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste." Of course, you fine folks won't even see this post, because you'll be taken to an older one where I had a link to said poster. Others of you are looking for Bible verses about sleep. Hopefully, you were taken directly to that post, too. If not, hi! Welcome.

I don't have lots of terribly deep things to say, but it's a downright crime that I haven't written in so long. So, as I sit here, avoiding reading for class and suffering the effects of eating ENTIRELY too many apple chips, I shall recap a bit of life.

As you my know, my sister and brother-in-law lost their daughter in January. That really sucked. I have realized that I haven't really gone through the mourning process before, because this hit me differently than I expected. I suppose that when my grandma died, she had been sick, and she was old-ish, so it wasn't as horrible. I was mighty sad, but there wasn't a lot of confusion or back and forth about it. Just the knowledge that death sucks.

But with Adi's death, it was different. It has hit me in ways that I still don't even realize-just this past Sunday, I was telling someone about what happened and I cried again. I'm sad that this little girl died and that she was sick, but I'm mostly sad for my sister & bro-i-l. I hate the pain that my sister went through, the fear that my bro-i-l had to face, the sadness that they feel in their souls and bodies.

I want it all to make sense. To work out. To be clear. I wanted to find the magic bullet answer in the Bible so I could tell her that THIS, James 17:8 (no such verse) or the theological construct of God's providence and blah-blah is what will make it align, make life (and God) look fair, and will make the sun shine. I actually was pretty desperate for that for a while. I read, I asked pastors and friends, and I prayed and cried. And this was all more than a month after she died.

I knew that grief was a roller-coaster, but I didn't think I was going to be on it. But mine is definitely a kiddie ride compared to my sister's. I've had to learn to step back and let them ride theirs, and that I can't control it. Every up or down isn't their final landing place. They'll get wherever "there" is, and God is with them, whether or not they always see him or hear him.

But we're all doing better now. Well, most of us. They're going to be okay. I'm not worried, at least not today. Pharmaceuticals and C.S. Lewis have helped a lot.

This is from A Grief Observed, and it blew me away:

God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn’t. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. He only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.

So, I guess I got deep after all. I'll write about Twilight next time.

Have I mentioned that I don't want kids?

I thought I may have done so.

I'm in MI for about a month visiting family. Circumstances are kind of grim: my sister was in the hospital, 6mos pregnant w/her first baby, complications ensued. I came to be w/her, she had an emergency c-section and the baby died after an hour. But I'm not talking about all that right now.

It's cold here, really cold, and this house is quite full. Me, mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, grandma, and 3 year old nephew. Another sister flits in and out, while another, the mother of the kid, calls and calls. This is a small house. I hang out in the basement, and every step taken upstairs sounds like elephants stampeding.

My life? My cozy life w/husband and dogs in California? My life is only loud when and if I choose. Yes, my husband ticks very loudly from time to time, but that's a 1-5 second thing. Yes, I hang out with high schoolers at church, but that's once a week, and they can be made to hush if necessary.

What am I saying? I'm saying that I've been here a week and a half, and it's high time I spent the night elsewhere. I have 17 more days. Days I'm grateful for, even if I miss my husband terribly. I'm glad to have a relaxing time with my family and friends; to not have to schedule multiple appointments on each day to try to see everyone. I think it's all God's doing that I'm even here-- I used a free ticket that we got as a result from being bumped from another free flight. I got here about 36 hours before my sister's baby died, being able to see sis in the hospital happy before that happened. My sister and brother-in-law have a house on base that will be ready for them soon, so we'll be leaving on the same day. I'm supposed to be here, and I'm supposed to be here for the time frame I have planned.

But it's still hard sometimes.

Happy to Be Alive Day!

As I posted my Twilight blurb, I saw today's date and remembered that it is a holiday for me.
Sixteen years ago, I tried to kill myself. A stupid boy was the proverbial straw, but I had been depressed for a while and remained so for some time. Thankfully, I didn't want to die that bad, because I went to work and told my boss about the pills I'd taken. And I had my wonderful family and loving friends to pick me back up, dust me off (sometimes a little too roughly, sheesh! aggressive much?) and kick my butt back into the world.
I can't say I've never looked back, but I am very happy and know how to wrestle my depression to the ground when I need to do so.

So, be happy to be alive! I am!

Also, happy birthday to Greg Smith, wherever he is.

Tourette's Tics Me Off

Last week, Seth and I watched a TV movie called Front of the Class, about a man with a pretty harsh case of Tourette's who became an elementary school teacher after much heartache.
The movie was only okay- it was a Hallmark Hall of Fame. It was inspiring. You know. But I cried a LOT because it was so hard to watch the progression of this guy with some really bad tics all the way from elementary school through finally getting a teaching job. People were mean to him, he was told he was doing it on purpose, he embarrassed his dad, annoyed people. It was awful.

My husband's case of Tourette's is nowhere near the level of this guy's, but I still am embarrassed by him sometimes. If he's making noise in church, I want him to stop because I don't want him to bother the people around him. I also don't want people to think poorly of him; that he's just a loud guy being weird or inappropriate. I do act sometimes like he can control it. He can, to a certain extent, but it's hard, it stresses him out, and it just makes it worse after a while.

I hated seeing that poor little boy get yelled at or shunned by his own dad because of his tics. I hate the thought that I make my husband feel crummy with a look or gesture when I wish he wasn't ticking. I don't want to be that person. I've tried for a while to cultivate in myself the quality of not caring what people think. To abandon obsession with appearance, making sure everyone likes me and my husband, always appearing smart and put-together. He doesn't care what people think, and he knows that the people that matter know what's going on. Some people never even notice until they're told. Usually at my prompting, because I think that he's being conspicuous and I don't want people to judge him (by which, of course, I mean me).

I guess this is a confession. I don't want to be like this. I know that I don't have to be. Only the Holy Spirit can remind me and nudge me and make the change in my heart.

A weekend of firsts

This past weekend we went to visit the cousins and I ended up doing a couple things I had never done: I ran a mile, and I rode a motorcycle.
Both were exciting in their own ways, but I will say that was happier about the mile. It was mostly downhill, but not entirely, and it was still quite hard. Even when I started the run, I didn't quite think that I would make it, but as I knew I was getting closer to the end, I was able to push past the wanting to puke phase. I was quite delighted, let me tell you. Plus, I did it in only 9 minutes! Someday soon, I'll be running a mile on flat terrain. Yippee!
The motorcycle was successful, in that I didn't fall, but not smooth at all. Even though I know how to drive a manual car, I was unable to really put that knowledge together with my hands and feet on the bike. I'm used to my scooter, which is an automatic and like a bicycle in that both handles are brakes, so I couldn't put it all together and get it straight that I wanted to use one foot and one hand to brake, I forgot to let off the gas when I shifted- which resulted in a cool/scary wheelie thing once, and I kept wanting the clutch to be my rear brake. Argh. I'll practice more this weekend when I go out for the giving of thanks. And I'll wear a helmet, which will make me more comfortable. Don't worry, I wasn't on a road. I was on the hill/compound of the family, on a slow-moving dirtbike.

I ended up leaving Husband-o-mine there to visit for the week while I came home to go to work and school. It's been nice to have the house to myself a little bit, but nothing has felt that different. I'm still crazy busy and, hopefully, I'll manage my time better this long weekend so that I don't just bask in the time off and then feel screwed when I go to class Monday. That's what happened last weekend.

A note to the Slacker's Prince: I'll be seeing you on Christmas, my dear!
Coming up: political thoughts which I have avoided up until now.

Ahhh...Here I am again

Good Morning.
I was hoping to be asleep tonight. I even tried some chemical assistance, but to no avail. So much for modern medicine.

The good news is that I'm probably quitting my job tomorrow. That will help with a lot of this. I've never really slept fantastically, but my work schedule is all screwy and includes some late and overnights, and I just can't seem to recover from them.

But this is boring.

I've recently gotten into Lost, and I really like it. I'm annoyed that they are skipping episodes for those of us just starting out with the show, but at least I have Television Without Pity to catch me up. I have an episode waiting to be watched on my DVR, but I should wait to watch it with my husband. I already watched TAR without him.

My family worries me a bit. My parents are/were alcoholics, quit for a while, and are back on it and we're not allowed to talk about it or act like it's weird.
How am I supposed to pretend that it doesn't bother me? I keep trying to tell myself that they're okay, that it's not as destructive as it was when I was younger. And it really is a different brand that they're practicing now, but it still ain't cool. It makes me uncomfortable, and it makes my little sister living with them uncomfortable and scared, I think.
Not scared scared, but worried about them.

I love how I put an apostrophe in "ain't" as if it is an actual contraction.

I have a friend who is really going through some difficult times in her life and is quite needy.
I want to be there for her, but it's really difficult. I feel like I just don't have it in me to be there for her right now. Not on the terms she wants. I can't give her what she needs because a) I just cannot do it, and b) it is just so much work to actually accomplish anything with her nowadays. And, to act like a scumbag for a minute, I don't want to put a whole lot of effort into it anymore. It has been a one-way street for a long time now, and so little actually changes.
I love her to death and always will, but the bending over backward can't go on. It's too much.
Is this completely cold-hearted? Perhaps. It isn't how I feel all the time, but more and more. Of course, I'm not in the cheeriest of places the past few months.

This insomnia thing. I don't know if it qualifies as a sickness or not, but in my mind I've just been thinking of it as "I haven't been well lately." Almost as if I have a disease. People just can't seem to get why I'm so tired or sleeping so late or cancelling plans. I just haven't been well.