Sometimes I Hate My Self Esteem.

UGHhh!  I have a confession to make.  I'm only strong on the outside.  If you get close to my inside, you would see that I'm mushy.  I guess I'm like a banana.  Yeah, a banana.  Strong peel, but mushy inside.  (Just go with it)

So I pride myself on being strong.  I don't let myself get hurt by other's decisions to be my friend or not.  I take pride in not playing emotional games with my friends or husband.  In other words, I avoid drama.  But sometimes, if I'm real honest, I get hurt.  I see friends make a decision to hang out and not ask me along (facebook is fun isn't it) and I start to hear voices in my head tell me it's because I'm not good enough.  OR maybe they know me too well and just aren't comfortable with my mushy inside.  My true self esteem starts creeping up on me.  I have a good cry.  Then I'm tough again.

If I'm being really honest with myself, it's not all about me anyway.  :-)

I'm Back!

So much has happened in the FOUR years since I last posted here.  Where do I start?  I haven't been completely blog free.  I blogged about my marathon journey here. Yes, I ran most of a marathon.  Stiff-legged the rest of it.  It was fun though, one of the highlights of my life, for sure. And sadistically, I want to do it again.
I have 2 more kids since the last post. Which brings me up to 4 for those who are counting.  3 girls and 1 sweet little baby boy.  As far as I know, we are done.   So I snuggle all I can with my last little one.
We are living back in Washington again.  This is where we grew up.  Though, it has been interesting to see how it is a little hard to try to fit back in, having lived in our adopted home of Texas for 6 years.
We are homeschooling.  YES!  I guess I am a glutton for punishment.  I like things like marathons and homeschooling to see just how strong I can be.
Other things have shaped and molded me over the last 3 years and beyond that.  Maybe, as I restart this blog, I will be able to get real with you all and share what I have learned about life, love, and poopy diapers. Though "getting real" like, really real, is a bit scary for me these days.  If you really knew everything in my life, my day, my head, would you still want to be my friend?  This is the question at the back of my head all the time.  I know it is Satan's way of telling me I'm not good enough.  I'm not very good at shutting him down though.  Something that I need to remember: I am a daughter of the King, and my Daddy loves me.

What do you need to remind yourself of throughout the day?

A Warm Christmas Memory

I was thinking recently about my favorite Christmas memories. Probably my fondest memory of Christmas is not in anyway connected to gifts I received or carols I sung or candy I ate. In fact, it should have been a sad Christmas. My family was dealing with the new and frightening reality that it was going to be my Grandmother's last Christmas. From here on out I will refer to her As Grammie because that is how she was known and I really can't call her anything else. Some of the family decided to live in denial, that's how they dealt with it. But for many of us, we embraced this Christmas as an opportunity to enjoy Christmas one last time with this loved matriarch. We listened with interest to Grammie's stories, which in the past were too long and too uninteresting to bother with. We showered her with gifts. What do you get a person facing a terminal illness? As I look back on that Christmas, the gifts we gave Grammie were our way of hugging her through through the tough months that lay ahead of her. A wool blanket for Grammie's legs, a down robe and down slippers to keep her frail body warm, soft caps for her head to cover the evidience of her treatments, all gifts to keep her as comfortable as we could, even when we weren't there. Four months later, as I visited with my Grammie for the last time, she was embraced by the hugs of the entire family. It was a warm afternoon, but Grammie, who was not much more than her skeleton, was bundled in her down robe, down slippers and wool blanket. Days later, it was in those hugs that she passed. Surrounded by family.

A Lesson Learned

Yesterday my daughter came home with her first school pictures. I remember how fun it was as a kid to get those pictures and then share them with parents and grandparents and even great grandparents, friends and aunts and uncles. When you get your little package at school the first thing you do is analyze the picture. Are you smiling? Are your clothes straight? Is your hair just right? Is there a booger hanging out? :-) There is a lot that has to go right!

Well for my little kindergartner, these pictures brought disappointment. At least at first. She bounced into my car yesterday afternoon and the first thing she did was take out these pictures and point to the blaring red eye in her picture. Picture day happened to land smack in the middle of a terrible eye infection. In fact, the infection lasted almost two months and is finally gone due to antibiotics. Her eye, red and shiny from the first medication we attempted, stuck out in the picture and matched the red shirt she had chosen for picture day. She was also disappointed that she didn't smile.

I wish I could say that I reacted perfectly right away. That I immediately made a big deal about how much I loved the picture just because it was her. I was sad for her and wanted to make her feel better and told her that we could see if we could get retakes. The rest of the afternoon, weather it was due to the photo fiasco or not, she was a little monster. She spent the entire afternoon being nasty to her little sister and to me. Well it took me all night (and a reminder from my husband) to figure out that I really needed to focus on helping her realize that what is important is that it is her, not the eye or the smile, in the picture that I love. So this morning I told her that I Love the picture because it reminds me of how strong and brave she has been to go to school even when she wasn't feeling great. Whew! Almost missed that opportunity to build up what is important in her and remind her that It's what is on the inside that counts! Why can't these things come to my mind right away, instead of hours later?

3 year Texaversary!

Today is what we consider our Texas-anniversary or Texaversary (a term I just coined myself). 3 years ago today my husband set out for this vast land in the southwest. At the time, it was frightening and exciting all at once. We hadn't sold our house yet in Washington so I stayed back for a while with a very young infant and a 2 year old. Whew! I can't believe what we have been through since then. Since moving here, it seems like we've been trying to get back to Washington where all of our family and closest friends are. But, we have learned, our plans are not what is important. Sometimes it feels like God has his thumb on us holding us down like kicking and screaming children. And as it turns out Texas has been a huge blessing to us. And though our hearts are always pulling us back to the Northwest and all it's mountains, we have to admit we are growing to love Texas. If God ever has us headed back to Washington, we will truly have a hard time leaving! From the job that Lance would never have dreamed of to a wonderful community and school for our little girls to grow in and new friends (the silver type), we have been blessed here. And if we ever go back, we will leave a piece of ourselves behind.

Wonderful Wednesday!

The wonderful thing today is Grace. I've been thinking a lot about grace in the last few days. Our pastor preached about grace last Sunday, I guess that's why it is on my mind. Grace defined is undeserved favor. Grace is God's gift to us. The ultimate gift: love, undeserved. Grace seems to be easy for us to accept but hard for us to give. As Christians we should be known for our grace for others. Christian or not, they are all children of God. I hate when I hear of Christians who are unwilling to extend grace to anyone. It makes me sick, and I am pretty sure it makes God sick. Those who have been forgiven much, should forgive much. But sometimes it seems that those who have been forgiven much, find it easier to judge than to forgive. That must truly sadden the heart of the Lord. Grace is impossible without the intervention of God.

And now I step off my soapbox!

I hope that your life is touched by grace.

Counting My Blessings

It's always good to reflect on the good things in life, especially on a day like today! Thanks for that reminder from a post from www.journey2learn.com.
1) My Lord, who's in control!
2) My children who make my day interesting, to say the least.
3) My husband who is sweet everyday.
4) Our parents who I can rely on at any time, for anything.
5) My friends (including my sister!) who love me despite my failings.

I Do Not Believe in Coincidence!

I was just really convicted to share this personal story. Forgive me, cause its long.

Recently we went through something that just really showed me how God cares for every detail. Sometimes we can really see it and sometimes we don't but its always there. For about 6 months our very best friends, Nichole and John, were making plans to visit us all the way from Washington. This was their first visit. There were days when we were not sure that the trip would happen. Life happens and wants sometimes get shelved for needs. But God made it work. We talked about when would be best and decided on Labor day weekend. They bought their tickets and it was settled. We were so excited. Since they were going to be here over several weekdays Lance decided to take one of those work days off giving him a 4 day weekend. The trip became even more exciting for me when 2 weeks before they were coming, we found out we were pregnant with our third child and my first appointment would be the day that they arrived.
I went to my appointment and found that the appointments were backed up so I did not get to have my initial pregnancy appointment. I had to leave to go get John, Nichole and baby Lily so I could not wait around. They made me an appointment for first thing in the morning. So I left a little disappointed but happy that I was on my way to pick up our dear friends.
That night, when I was preparing for bed I noticed something that caused some concern. I decided not to worry about it and was very thankful that I had an appointment in the morning so I could ask some questions and hopefully ease my concerns. By the time I was on my way to the appointment, I was really worried that I was losing the baby. When I got there I told the nurse my concern and because it was "sono" day, she was able to get me in for a sonogram. They didn't see a baby in the sonogram. They said it was not unusual for 5 weeks but they began counseling me about miscarriages and the Doctor himself (who I was not going to see at all) came in to talk to me. They took blood work and said they would get back to me when they new the results of the blood work the next day.
I came home from that appointment and was able to cry in my friend's arms. I did not have to face the day alone with my 3 year old (my 5 year old was at school). I had someone there to endure a wet shoulder while I sobbed. Having our friends there that day helped me keep my mind off of what might be. I was carried through what would have been an excruciating long day waiting for results.
The next morning (Friday) I woke up and there was no more question about "if" I was having a miscarriage. I just had to wait for official word from the Doctor's office. Since it was the Friday Lance had planned to take off, I didn't have to get out of bed. I was able to lay there while Lance got Lindsay ready for school. I cried myself to sleep and only woke up later when Lance came home. He collapsed on the bed and cried with me (it had been a rough morning for our new Kindergartener on top of the reality that was setting in). We decided to spend the day with our friends showing them our favorite places around our little town. We were getting coffee at a favorite coffee shop when I got the call from the Doctor confirming what we already knew was true. The rest of the day was relaxing and very pleasant, considering the circumstances. Our friends were a great distraction and comfort in a difficult time. I think it also helped our parents to know that we were not alone.
When I look back only a few weeks later I can see that God really blanketed us with His love through our friends. It also turned out that a week later my mother was also able to come and visit and to give me a "hug." Something that we felt we had planned months earlier turned out to be completely orchestrated to bring us comfort in a time of need. From the moved appointment to Lance's Friday off to having a good shoulder to cry on. God knew that we would be walking through a difficult time and He did not make us go through it alone.

I am thankful that there are no coincidences, only God's plan.

Culture Shock: Small Town Texas on a Fall Friday

This is the 3rd Friday in Kindergarten for my 5 year old. Each Friday the high school cheerleaders and a few football players are there to help kids get from their cars to the building, and to spread a little spirit. As we were walking toward the school, I noticed the mascot, a giant cardinal, was also part of the welcoming committee. Fun! Then my daughter revealed to me that she was supposed to wear red or gold to school on Fridays but she was ok because pink is like red. (I hope she doesn't try to make that argument to friends at school, my heart cringes for her.) OK, I guess I should support spirit day and make sure that next Friday, she is in red. As we get closer to the school I noticed SEVERAL little girls in cardinal cheer outfits and little boys in football jerseys! Isn't that a little overboard? Suddenly I feel awful that my little girl is going to be in a minority of girls that not only aren't wearing red, but are without the mini-cheerleader outfit!
So I decided to get a grip. Do I really want my 5 year old dressed as a 17 year old cheerleader? No thanks! She's going to have to be "different" and that is ok. I just never thought I would feel so "different" after living in Texas now for nearly 3 years. I love it, the people, the values (I could use a mountain or two, just sayin) but sometimes I grow tired of the keeping up with the Jones' attitude. But then, maybe that is everywhere, not just Texas.

First 3 weeks of school

I was so not prepared for our first school experience. I knew that it would be "hard." Because that is what people told me. But I really didn't KNOW how hard it would actually be. I haven't been able to even blog the last few weeks because I really didn't feel like I had any wisdom on the subject. I still don't really feel like I do. Since dropping my daughter off at Kindergarten I have fought the urge to take her out and home school her every day. I want her back! My mind and heart are in complete disagreement.
On the one hand, I feel like our time together has been shrunken so drastically. All of the sudden she is gone, ripped from my arms! It is truly heartbreaking when I think of how much we miss of her day.
On the other hand, though sometimes she wants to stay home (when she knows lil sis and I are doing something fun that day) she really seems to enjoy school. She has learned so much already in the last 3 weeks. Every waking moment at home she is practicing her letter writing and pretending school with her sister. I know that it is important for her to be in school at this time, at this age because she is truly ready. If I had waited, I am fully confident she would be bored next year and then we'd be setting her off on the wrong foot. She's getting what she needs, when she needs it. She also has a wonderful Christian teacher.

So, as I am the adult and have to learn to let my children go, I must endure the school year missing my child and trying not to get hurt over the fact that she only mildly misses me. This process of letting go started with childbirth and I guess will continue until she is married and moving thousands of miles away from me. (sorry mom) I think I now truly understand the heartache that we cause our moms. Heartache that I just have to get over, as our moms did.