Our photographer came down from Portland today to take Jeffrey’s pictures. Murphy’s Law.... My sweet, giggly, incessantly happy boy was cranky and fussy almost the whole time! Sheesh! We got some great shots, but he just pooped out right when we were taking the last family photos, so we didn’t get any of those. Kind of a bummer. Cindy is so patient...
We got some fun pics of his little bottom and him peeking over his shoulder. Oh my gosh, his chubby little tushy is so cute!!!! She’ll send us the slide show in about 2 1/2 weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing how they turned out.
He just tuckered out when Cindy left. I think he slept for over an hour. We should have called Gramma over. He always gets giggly when she’s around. (We’re actually at Gramma’s as I type this. And, true to form, they are all playing in the other room. Music to my ears!)
My friend ate catfood by accident the other day. (You know who you are!) She wrote, "p.s. can i just tell you that i accidentally ate cat food this morning? well, you know how when you’re pregnant, food starts to catch on your belly a lot? Well, this morning, I was eating oatmeal, and it was kinda dark, and I thought oatmeal fell on my belly. So, not really thinking twice about it, I picked it up with my finger and put it right back in my mouth (i can’t let food go to waste!) and as it was on my tongue I realized, this is CAT FOOD!!! I ran to the sink and started spitting, rinsing my mouth, hoping it wouldn’t reach my taste buds. Well, that pretty much ruined my appetite for food and I got instant gag reflex. Then, I couldn’t stop smelling cat food. I rinsed my shirt, that didn’t work. I used the tide pen, and I thought that helped. But as I’m driving to work, I start to smell it again, and lo and behold, my shirt STILL smells like cat food. So, I’ve pretty much tried to wash my entire shirt without taking it off, but the smell is forever in my nose now. And that’s how my morning has begun. In Jesus name, Amen."
Friggen hilarious. I wrote her back, "I completely sympathize. That’s like that time I was sneaking into the bedroom on my hands and knees in the hopes of scaring Scott, but he saw me, so I was trying to act like I was doing something else. There was a little rock (pebble size) on the carpet, so I got real close and smelled it. It wasn’t a rock. It was poo. It must have fallen off the cat’s paw as one of them jumped out of the cat box. Gross!!!!! I just looked up at Scott, who was amused at the fact that I would even smell something on the carpet, and said, ’I think that’s poo.’ Which then got huge laughter. And I’ve been made fun of ever since. God said it was good. And it was so."
And so goes my life. Funny stuff happens to me all the time.
I’m so full I’m about to ass-plode. (Gotta love Outback.) After Cindy left, we were watching Throwndown with Bobby Flay. That was the wrong thing to watch after you haven’t eaten since breakfast. BBQ ribs and Jerk Steak. Mmmmm. So... you can see the natural progression. Thus, Outback. ("Mum, mum, mum.... Mum’s the word and so the word is mum, mum. She will forever be your mum, mum...")
Everything’s great... everything’s groovy. It’s a great day....
I think I have steak coming out of my ears.
Hyacinth smells awesome. I have two plants on my dining table, along with a cute hurricane (candle holder) filled with Easter candy.
And can I just say that I LOVE my new dining table? It’s huge. I have to keep both leaves out in order to fit nicely in my current dining room, but it extends (2 leaves) to 8 feet. It can easily seat 10. Perfect! My dream table, really. It’s just beautiful, too. It took us over 2 years to find it. I feel all grown up now. (Especially after having toted around a hand-me-down table from my old boss in Billings, MT. That table was older than me. We gave it to Scott’s mom. A lot of Speed Uno rounds will be remembered.)
It would be great to move.... We tried selling the house a year ago, but after the lending fell through for the folks that wanted to buy our home, we pulled it from the market. I was 8 1/2 months pregnant. I didn’t want to move when I was 9 months... or with a brand new baby. We’re getting ready to put it back on the market - hopefully this summer. It’d be nice to have more room. Our cozy home seems awfully small with a baby, and hopefully one on the way (soon, not yet).
The picklebean calls me. He loves his mama.
Peace out.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
A Father to the Fatherless...
Yesterday my heart broke a little. Logan (one of my coworkers) came to our staff meeting with the news that a friend of his (Dan) was diagnosed with a heart aneurysm. This is bad. This means that any amount of stress could kill him. What do you do with that?? He’s about 22, maybe 23, years old, with an 8-month old baby at home. Dan is a big, burly biker dude and tattoos all over, driven to tears by fear of what might come. Logan prayed for him over the phone that morning. We prayed for him at our prayer tables after staff coffee.
I was so touched. I couldn’t help but think of that sweet little baby and the possibility of not ever knowing her daddy. My heart just broke for her. I started to pray, and I was overwhelmed by tears - out of nowhere. I could hardly speak. I prayed for God to intervene. I prayed that God wouldn’t take her daddy from her. Coming from experience, I know how hard it is to go through life without a father. (I lost mine to cancer when I was 8 years old.)
And I got to thinking about Jeffrey. He’s 8 months old. The same age. What would it be like if something happened to Scott? How would I teach Jeffrey who his father is? How would I explain just how much his daddy loved him? Would he ever really know?
After staff coffee, I went to visit the PickleBean. I just hugged him and told him I loved him. I needed that moment. And it was as if he knew I needed it. Scott took him to give him a hug and Jeffrey just reached for me. He hardly ever does that. (He loves to be in his daddy’s arms.)
I’m so grateful for my life and for my family. I’m grateful for our health. I’m grateful for the time that we’ve been given to enjoy each other. But most of all, I’m grateful for a God who is our Father when we don’t have a father. What an amazing gift.
Life is so fleeting. You never know when something might pop up, or when your time here is over. I never take this for granted. I hope you don’t either.
If you think about it, please pray for Dan, his family, and for his little baby.
I was so touched. I couldn’t help but think of that sweet little baby and the possibility of not ever knowing her daddy. My heart just broke for her. I started to pray, and I was overwhelmed by tears - out of nowhere. I could hardly speak. I prayed for God to intervene. I prayed that God wouldn’t take her daddy from her. Coming from experience, I know how hard it is to go through life without a father. (I lost mine to cancer when I was 8 years old.)
And I got to thinking about Jeffrey. He’s 8 months old. The same age. What would it be like if something happened to Scott? How would I teach Jeffrey who his father is? How would I explain just how much his daddy loved him? Would he ever really know?
After staff coffee, I went to visit the PickleBean. I just hugged him and told him I loved him. I needed that moment. And it was as if he knew I needed it. Scott took him to give him a hug and Jeffrey just reached for me. He hardly ever does that. (He loves to be in his daddy’s arms.)
I’m so grateful for my life and for my family. I’m grateful for our health. I’m grateful for the time that we’ve been given to enjoy each other. But most of all, I’m grateful for a God who is our Father when we don’t have a father. What an amazing gift.
Life is so fleeting. You never know when something might pop up, or when your time here is over. I never take this for granted. I hope you don’t either.
If you think about it, please pray for Dan, his family, and for his little baby.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
My Cat is Stalking Me
You would think that for someone who rarely gets more than 5 hours of sleep at night (see, God created nursing babies for working moms) that I would covet those nights when the baby is sleeping like a ... well... baby. I’ve been awake for over an hour. It’s three in the morning. God isn’t even awake at this time of day... night... morning... whatever...
I move and my cat watches me. It’s a little nerve wracking. I’m typing in the dark and I can hear her licking herself in the corner.
The Post Office came out with Disney stamps. Super cute. I’m planning a baby shower for a friend (2 girls already, but a boy on the way - finally some testosterone in that family!). I dragged Scott on some errands yesterday, one of which was standing in the longest line ever at the Post Office just to get the Disney stamps. He said, "They have a machine...." Yes, they do have a machine, but they were only selling the "Forever" stamps with the Liberty Bell on them. So not cute. So I chose to stand in line. Scott said, "Really? Just for stamps?" I replied, "Yes, because that is the kind of friend I am." He asked, "What kind of friend is that?" I answered, "A dedicated, loyal, serving, willing-to-stand-in-super-long-lines-at-the-Post-Office kind of friend." He just smiled and said, "Oh." The line went pretty quick. There was a guy from our church who came in about 12 people behind us. Apparently, he’s a video game addict. It’s causing all kinds of domestic problems. I think there is a STEPs group for that.
I taught Jeffrey how to clap. It was a little slow going, but he loves the sound, so I made up a little song for him, which I would love to sing for you right now. It just goes, "We clap when we’re happy..." (It isn’t nearly as melodic as Scott’s song "A wiggle bean does what a wiggle bean does".) Back to clapping. Jeffrey claps ALL the time now. It is SO cute. His little chubby hands coming together makes the cutest little sound. It doesn’t sound quite like a clap yet, but it brings joy to my heart and I’m quite certain that Heaven’s angels rejoice when they hear it, too.
I chopped all my hair off. Jeffrey likes to pull it...so it just keeps getting shorter until there is nothing left to pull. I LOVE it. Shaved about 20 minutes off morning prep (primp) time. It’s sassy and a bit sexy. Scott says, "See? This is how it starts..." He’s afraid that I will never grow it long again. We’ll see.
All I see is the silhouette of my cat staring at me in the corner. Not even her eyes are glowing. Seriously. It’s freaking me out.
Cindy (www.soulprintsphotography.com) is coming to photograph Jeffrey on Saturday. Can I just say that, objectively, he is a damn cute baby? He looks just like Scott, but I think he inherited the "cute factor" from me. He had to. Have you see Scott??? (haha, just jokes Love. You’re pretty cute, too, when you’re not too busy being a poophead.)
"A Nameless Person" told me she might have a new man in her life. She is being very strategic. It’s cracking me up. "Oh... I really don’t have a clue about the [something that must remain nameless]. Could you come over and pre-inspect for me?" Damsel in distress. Good tactic. (Kudos and high five to "Nameless Person"!)
"One word, five letters" I was told. B-O-O-N-S. I was thinking, gee... shouldn’t that be one word, six letters? B-O-O-N-E-S. I was wrong. And why? Because I have P-T-S-D. I spent way too much time in Portland. (Lower Boones Ferry Road. Not Boons as in Friday night beers.) Damn my psychological disorder! I love beer. I hate Portland. There ya go.
I’m going to Chicago for an HR conference in June. We’re making a vacation out of it. And dragging my mother in law with us. There was a snafu with the hotel reservations. She has been waffling, so I just reserved my own hotel room (for Scott and the baby and me). She waited too long to tell us, and the hotel rooms that were booked for the event have ALL been filled. That’s like over 3000 rooms. No joke. So... we decided that we’d just change our reservation for a room with two beds. Done. No big deal. I don’t mind sharing my room for 6 nights. Well.... I went to the hotel’s website (Chicago City Center) and their doubles are literally that; two doubles. As in two double beds. As in not much bigger than a twin. As in Santa Fe flashback. (Suddenly, I smell burning poo....) So, I guess we’ll have to venture out and find a room outside of the blocked rooms. Which means we’ll be paying about twice as much. Damn. Oh well. The church was paying for my room (since my time there is work related), so we’ll just pay the difference. It’s all good.
Speaking of which, it will be nice to be in Chicago again. This time, it will be summer and perhaps, maybe just maybe, I’ll actually get to see Chicago without being plummeted by rain. And perhaps we will visit our homeless friend who falls asleep in his riblets. That would be a treat.
I’m looking forward to visiting Scott’s dad - Richard, aka Dick. (There’s a really funny story about who knows Dick, but... it’s a family thing and I just don’t have the time to explain.) It will be the first time the PickleBean gets to meet his one and only grandpa! We’re thrilled!
So it sucks that the dollar is worth less than the Canadian dollar. So much for cheap trips to Whistler. Silly Americans.
I love jelly beans.
Anyone want a cat? (She finally left... I hear her in the kitchen crunching on her food...)
My nostril is whistling. That’s hilarious.
I’m a little nervous about this week’s weigh-in. (Damn... The cat is back. Now she wants attention. She is sitting at my feet meowing and purring.) The good news is that 2 weeks ago (when I weighed in for the first time since August) I was 10 pounds lighter than before I got pregnant with the PickleBean. I didn’t try much that week.... Change is difficult right now. But somehow by the grace of God, I lost 3.2 pounds the first week. Weird. (I chalk it up to loss of water, and/or serious fiber intake. I pooed a LOT that week.) We’ll see how this week goes. (Whoa! The cat just jumped in my lap.) Speaking of poo... I’ll be right back.
Ah. Clarity of thought.
Ya know, it’s never good when a sentence starts, "I’m no proctologist, but...."
Do you watch The Soup on E? I love the segment "Oprah’s vajay-jay." "Vajay-jay" has crept into our daily lives. I can’t even go to Jamba Juice without cracking a smile. (We actually call that Va-jamba Juice.) Oh, the humanity!
Great. Now the other cat is in here, too. Can I not have some peace in this place?
St. Patty’s Day is Monday. I love that day. All people everywhere should celebrate by getting schnockered. Yea, beer!
I was praying tonight (last night... this morning)... It’s hard to explain what all that entailed, but I’ve been pondering where something came from. What does it mean when you pray that you want to be a different kind of person - other than what you are? The oddity to me is that I work in a church. I’m not built for ministry the way, say, a pastor is built for ministry. My ministry is the health of the staff - the people doing the ministry. I think recently I’ve been comparing myself to the calling of others, and how that plays out for them in their prayer life - their reading, their contemplation of the things of God, etc. It’s weird because I’m totally content with my gifts and the way God has formed me (and continues to form me... I don’t want to sound as though I’m stagnant). But I think coming from a corporate environment, I’ve been slightly tainted by secular things. I wish I were more prayerful and disciplined. I can tell that many things have already been changing. (I’m much more introspective, slow to anger, slow to speak.... Stop laughing, it’s true.) But I think I compare myself to others who get to abide in God’s word all day, every day. I mean, 75% of our staff are preparing sermons and biblical lessons, so they are spending a great deal of time in Scripture. Much more time that I could possibly spend. So I really don’t know what I wish for that, other than to say that I long to know God more. I love being with Him. I love listening to Him. I love to imagine being next to Jesus as I go through my day.
The weekend that Jeffrey got dedicated, Steve delivered a powerful sermon. (It was about "Talking Taxi".) My mom (who is so totally not saved) cried through the whole thing (I’m told - she was sitting behind me, so I didn’t see her). Something got her. My prayer for her since long ago has been that God would not allow her to die until she accepted Jesus into her heart. Well... I cannot even count the ways that God has revealed Himself to her, or how many times He has intervened. I know the Holy Spirit is working on her. She may very well be the most callused person I know. (Honestly, I think fear is driving her. I think in her heart of hearts she knows that she is going to hell, but she is so afraid of trusting (i.e., faith) that she is willing to wager eternity.) I would have loved to have been in her head that night while she was alone in bed. I can only imagine the thoughts she was wrestling with. I continue to pray for her salvation (and everyone in my family) and hope that she falls before the throne of God on this world before it’s too late.
I planted hyacinth by the door. That smells loverly every day when I get home from work.
I’m so grateful for my life. I have an amazing, devoted husband, a gorgeous baby boy, and a peaceful home to live in. I’ve been given a wonderful job, working with such spectacular, Godly people. I have a "Willage" of friends (yes, that’s a "w", folks - think Asian accent), who really are an extension of family. And Jesus loves me for no other reason than just because. I don’t get it, but I’m humbled and grateful.
And I’ll end with this.... I really am grateful for my friends. I was thinking about how different and similar life has been here in Salem compared to Billings. I have some wonderful friends back in Montana. The only bummer is that few were Christians (and I can tell that over time, those friendships are fading because we find little in common. They live for the world. I live for Jesus.). Here, we have a growing web of comrades - people willing to battle with us. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s beautiful to share in the joys and suffering of life together. (We had a game night the night Jeffrey was dedicated, and pretty much all of our willage came... Imagine that! The Willage all squeezed into our tiny little home that just 3 years ago we dedicated to God’s work. We were missing Jeff and Kara (new Willage family), but the Willage was in full force that night.) I was nursing Jeffrey in his room, listening to our friends chatting and playing Cranium in the other room. It was music to my soul. Except for the part where Trina and Logan had adverse reactions to cat hair. Logan broke out in hives. So their spouses had to rescue them.
See??? It all comes back to the cats.
Thank you and good morning.
I move and my cat watches me. It’s a little nerve wracking. I’m typing in the dark and I can hear her licking herself in the corner.
The Post Office came out with Disney stamps. Super cute. I’m planning a baby shower for a friend (2 girls already, but a boy on the way - finally some testosterone in that family!). I dragged Scott on some errands yesterday, one of which was standing in the longest line ever at the Post Office just to get the Disney stamps. He said, "They have a machine...." Yes, they do have a machine, but they were only selling the "Forever" stamps with the Liberty Bell on them. So not cute. So I chose to stand in line. Scott said, "Really? Just for stamps?" I replied, "Yes, because that is the kind of friend I am." He asked, "What kind of friend is that?" I answered, "A dedicated, loyal, serving, willing-to-stand-in-super-long-lines-at-the-Post-Office kind of friend." He just smiled and said, "Oh." The line went pretty quick. There was a guy from our church who came in about 12 people behind us. Apparently, he’s a video game addict. It’s causing all kinds of domestic problems. I think there is a STEPs group for that.
I taught Jeffrey how to clap. It was a little slow going, but he loves the sound, so I made up a little song for him, which I would love to sing for you right now. It just goes, "We clap when we’re happy..." (It isn’t nearly as melodic as Scott’s song "A wiggle bean does what a wiggle bean does".) Back to clapping. Jeffrey claps ALL the time now. It is SO cute. His little chubby hands coming together makes the cutest little sound. It doesn’t sound quite like a clap yet, but it brings joy to my heart and I’m quite certain that Heaven’s angels rejoice when they hear it, too.
I chopped all my hair off. Jeffrey likes to pull it...so it just keeps getting shorter until there is nothing left to pull. I LOVE it. Shaved about 20 minutes off morning prep (primp) time. It’s sassy and a bit sexy. Scott says, "See? This is how it starts..." He’s afraid that I will never grow it long again. We’ll see.
All I see is the silhouette of my cat staring at me in the corner. Not even her eyes are glowing. Seriously. It’s freaking me out.
Cindy (www.soulprintsphotography.com) is coming to photograph Jeffrey on Saturday. Can I just say that, objectively, he is a damn cute baby? He looks just like Scott, but I think he inherited the "cute factor" from me. He had to. Have you see Scott??? (haha, just jokes Love. You’re pretty cute, too, when you’re not too busy being a poophead.)
"A Nameless Person" told me she might have a new man in her life. She is being very strategic. It’s cracking me up. "Oh... I really don’t have a clue about the [something that must remain nameless]. Could you come over and pre-inspect for me?" Damsel in distress. Good tactic. (Kudos and high five to "Nameless Person"!)
"One word, five letters" I was told. B-O-O-N-S. I was thinking, gee... shouldn’t that be one word, six letters? B-O-O-N-E-S. I was wrong. And why? Because I have P-T-S-D. I spent way too much time in Portland. (Lower Boones Ferry Road. Not Boons as in Friday night beers.) Damn my psychological disorder! I love beer. I hate Portland. There ya go.
I’m going to Chicago for an HR conference in June. We’re making a vacation out of it. And dragging my mother in law with us. There was a snafu with the hotel reservations. She has been waffling, so I just reserved my own hotel room (for Scott and the baby and me). She waited too long to tell us, and the hotel rooms that were booked for the event have ALL been filled. That’s like over 3000 rooms. No joke. So... we decided that we’d just change our reservation for a room with two beds. Done. No big deal. I don’t mind sharing my room for 6 nights. Well.... I went to the hotel’s website (Chicago City Center) and their doubles are literally that; two doubles. As in two double beds. As in not much bigger than a twin. As in Santa Fe flashback. (Suddenly, I smell burning poo....) So, I guess we’ll have to venture out and find a room outside of the blocked rooms. Which means we’ll be paying about twice as much. Damn. Oh well. The church was paying for my room (since my time there is work related), so we’ll just pay the difference. It’s all good.
Speaking of which, it will be nice to be in Chicago again. This time, it will be summer and perhaps, maybe just maybe, I’ll actually get to see Chicago without being plummeted by rain. And perhaps we will visit our homeless friend who falls asleep in his riblets. That would be a treat.
I’m looking forward to visiting Scott’s dad - Richard, aka Dick. (There’s a really funny story about who knows Dick, but... it’s a family thing and I just don’t have the time to explain.) It will be the first time the PickleBean gets to meet his one and only grandpa! We’re thrilled!
So it sucks that the dollar is worth less than the Canadian dollar. So much for cheap trips to Whistler. Silly Americans.
I love jelly beans.
Anyone want a cat? (She finally left... I hear her in the kitchen crunching on her food...)
My nostril is whistling. That’s hilarious.
I’m a little nervous about this week’s weigh-in. (Damn... The cat is back. Now she wants attention. She is sitting at my feet meowing and purring.) The good news is that 2 weeks ago (when I weighed in for the first time since August) I was 10 pounds lighter than before I got pregnant with the PickleBean. I didn’t try much that week.... Change is difficult right now. But somehow by the grace of God, I lost 3.2 pounds the first week. Weird. (I chalk it up to loss of water, and/or serious fiber intake. I pooed a LOT that week.) We’ll see how this week goes. (Whoa! The cat just jumped in my lap.) Speaking of poo... I’ll be right back.
Ah. Clarity of thought.
Ya know, it’s never good when a sentence starts, "I’m no proctologist, but...."
Do you watch The Soup on E? I love the segment "Oprah’s vajay-jay." "Vajay-jay" has crept into our daily lives. I can’t even go to Jamba Juice without cracking a smile. (We actually call that Va-jamba Juice.) Oh, the humanity!
Great. Now the other cat is in here, too. Can I not have some peace in this place?
St. Patty’s Day is Monday. I love that day. All people everywhere should celebrate by getting schnockered. Yea, beer!
I was praying tonight (last night... this morning)... It’s hard to explain what all that entailed, but I’ve been pondering where something came from. What does it mean when you pray that you want to be a different kind of person - other than what you are? The oddity to me is that I work in a church. I’m not built for ministry the way, say, a pastor is built for ministry. My ministry is the health of the staff - the people doing the ministry. I think recently I’ve been comparing myself to the calling of others, and how that plays out for them in their prayer life - their reading, their contemplation of the things of God, etc. It’s weird because I’m totally content with my gifts and the way God has formed me (and continues to form me... I don’t want to sound as though I’m stagnant). But I think coming from a corporate environment, I’ve been slightly tainted by secular things. I wish I were more prayerful and disciplined. I can tell that many things have already been changing. (I’m much more introspective, slow to anger, slow to speak.... Stop laughing, it’s true.) But I think I compare myself to others who get to abide in God’s word all day, every day. I mean, 75% of our staff are preparing sermons and biblical lessons, so they are spending a great deal of time in Scripture. Much more time that I could possibly spend. So I really don’t know what I wish for that, other than to say that I long to know God more. I love being with Him. I love listening to Him. I love to imagine being next to Jesus as I go through my day.
The weekend that Jeffrey got dedicated, Steve delivered a powerful sermon. (It was about "Talking Taxi".) My mom (who is so totally not saved) cried through the whole thing (I’m told - she was sitting behind me, so I didn’t see her). Something got her. My prayer for her since long ago has been that God would not allow her to die until she accepted Jesus into her heart. Well... I cannot even count the ways that God has revealed Himself to her, or how many times He has intervened. I know the Holy Spirit is working on her. She may very well be the most callused person I know. (Honestly, I think fear is driving her. I think in her heart of hearts she knows that she is going to hell, but she is so afraid of trusting (i.e., faith) that she is willing to wager eternity.) I would have loved to have been in her head that night while she was alone in bed. I can only imagine the thoughts she was wrestling with. I continue to pray for her salvation (and everyone in my family) and hope that she falls before the throne of God on this world before it’s too late.
I planted hyacinth by the door. That smells loverly every day when I get home from work.
I’m so grateful for my life. I have an amazing, devoted husband, a gorgeous baby boy, and a peaceful home to live in. I’ve been given a wonderful job, working with such spectacular, Godly people. I have a "Willage" of friends (yes, that’s a "w", folks - think Asian accent), who really are an extension of family. And Jesus loves me for no other reason than just because. I don’t get it, but I’m humbled and grateful.
And I’ll end with this.... I really am grateful for my friends. I was thinking about how different and similar life has been here in Salem compared to Billings. I have some wonderful friends back in Montana. The only bummer is that few were Christians (and I can tell that over time, those friendships are fading because we find little in common. They live for the world. I live for Jesus.). Here, we have a growing web of comrades - people willing to battle with us. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s beautiful to share in the joys and suffering of life together. (We had a game night the night Jeffrey was dedicated, and pretty much all of our willage came... Imagine that! The Willage all squeezed into our tiny little home that just 3 years ago we dedicated to God’s work. We were missing Jeff and Kara (new Willage family), but the Willage was in full force that night.) I was nursing Jeffrey in his room, listening to our friends chatting and playing Cranium in the other room. It was music to my soul. Except for the part where Trina and Logan had adverse reactions to cat hair. Logan broke out in hives. So their spouses had to rescue them.
See??? It all comes back to the cats.
Thank you and good morning.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The Lord's Table
I attended the Leadership Forum yesterday. (It's an annual Salem Alliance thing where the leaders in the church (that is, key volunteers and staff) get together to worship and hear updates on the last year in different ministries, both locally and globally.) All new staff get introduced... so there I was with 8 other staff members, and 1 "by satellite" (which was actually a taped interview, but it was pulled off like she connected via satellite - hilarious). There were some funnies that came out of my interview, but that isn't the point of my writing today, so maybe I'll save that for another time. Or maybe I won't.
While the group was only about 300 or so, maybe more, the worship and fellowship was indescribable. (Tangent: This is a church with more than 2500 adults that attend on an given weekend. The fact that only 300 people are serving is just really sad, and personally, I think that those that call SAC their home should be convicted for not serving their God who has so graciously given to them. More about that another time.) Laura and Logan led us in some amazing worship time. The entire PMT updated us on their areas of ministry and some beautiful stories of healing and salvation that have happened over the last year.
We heard an update on the Broadway project. The Governing Board, the day they made their final vote on whether or not to move ahead, voted unanimously, with one heart in only a way that the Holy Spirit could lead. They stood in agreement together in a circle.... and apparently was very moving. What's so cool about this is that I am certain that this project is going to touch lives. God is moving, people. Hearts will be changed for Jesus. There will be a place for ministries to happen, where the answer will be "Yes! We have a space for you to meet" rather than that "No, I'm sorry, we're all out of space" that so many are accustomed to hearing. Truly, I say to you, God is moving. Praise the Lord!
There were a few volunteers who were asked to come to the front to talk about why they serve, and continue to serve. Their stories were amazing - their hearts are so tender for the Lord.
Towards the end, we worshipped, and were called to communion. All the new staff had been asked to serve, so we filed towards the front and took our glass and our plate, and stood in our designated spot. I held the cup. For a moment as the music began, the vantage point of standing at the front of the congregation and looking out over this field of soldiers as they bowed their heads and prepared their hearts to receive the Lord's supper, I thought, "Wow..." But as people began to file forward to partake of the body and blood of Jesus, I cannot even begin to describe the flood of emotions that overtook me. It was truly a sacred moment. I've never served communion before. To see God's people coming humbly and prayerfully to receive this incredible gift is like nothing I've experienced before. One by one they came. One by one they bowed their heads and took the bread and dipped it in the cup. One by one they ate. One by one they worshipped. Many said a prayer just before eating. Many just said, "Thank you, Jesus." What else can you say?
I was was blessed to serve.
The Governing Board gathered around the PMT and laid hands on them to pray, as they knelt before the throne of God. All staff come to the front where the PMT and Governing Board laid hands on us and prayed. And then we all stood along the perimeter of the room and prayed for our leaders; our volunteers, God's devoted followers who, in an act of worship and obedience, serve joyfully and gratefully. So cool.
A woman (my Bible Study 'encourager') came to me after we were all dismissed to give me a hug. She said many kind words, most of which I prefer to just keep to myself, but she told me a story that is so telling of how God works. She said that around Christmas time, she was feeling very sad and alone. Family wasn't right... her extended family doesn't know the Lord and other circumstances in her life just had her carrying a heavy burden. She came to the Christmas Eve service and sat towards the back. Feeling depleated, she prayed and asked God to reveal Himself to her and to lift her spirit so that she could rejoice in the season. She said that she lifted her head, and just one or two rows down she saw a family - a mother, a father and a little baby. She said they looked so happy and that Jesus just emanated from them. She said that family was mine, and that I just radiated "mother". In that moment, she felt the presence of God.
You just never know who is watching or how God is going to use circumstances to speak to someone else. I was so touched. So few times do I get the chance to share my faith, or to talk about my life when I know that the other person is getting some benefit. Only once in the last year have I had that opportunity (that I know of), and apparently.... well... let's just say that it wasn't received in the heart that was given. But to know that God DOES use me... It's very confirming. So, I thank you, Jesus, for giving me that insight yesterday.
While the group was only about 300 or so, maybe more, the worship and fellowship was indescribable. (Tangent: This is a church with more than 2500 adults that attend on an given weekend. The fact that only 300 people are serving is just really sad, and personally, I think that those that call SAC their home should be convicted for not serving their God who has so graciously given to them. More about that another time.) Laura and Logan led us in some amazing worship time. The entire PMT updated us on their areas of ministry and some beautiful stories of healing and salvation that have happened over the last year.
We heard an update on the Broadway project. The Governing Board, the day they made their final vote on whether or not to move ahead, voted unanimously, with one heart in only a way that the Holy Spirit could lead. They stood in agreement together in a circle.... and apparently was very moving. What's so cool about this is that I am certain that this project is going to touch lives. God is moving, people. Hearts will be changed for Jesus. There will be a place for ministries to happen, where the answer will be "Yes! We have a space for you to meet" rather than that "No, I'm sorry, we're all out of space" that so many are accustomed to hearing. Truly, I say to you, God is moving. Praise the Lord!
There were a few volunteers who were asked to come to the front to talk about why they serve, and continue to serve. Their stories were amazing - their hearts are so tender for the Lord.
Towards the end, we worshipped, and were called to communion. All the new staff had been asked to serve, so we filed towards the front and took our glass and our plate, and stood in our designated spot. I held the cup. For a moment as the music began, the vantage point of standing at the front of the congregation and looking out over this field of soldiers as they bowed their heads and prepared their hearts to receive the Lord's supper, I thought, "Wow..." But as people began to file forward to partake of the body and blood of Jesus, I cannot even begin to describe the flood of emotions that overtook me. It was truly a sacred moment. I've never served communion before. To see God's people coming humbly and prayerfully to receive this incredible gift is like nothing I've experienced before. One by one they came. One by one they bowed their heads and took the bread and dipped it in the cup. One by one they ate. One by one they worshipped. Many said a prayer just before eating. Many just said, "Thank you, Jesus." What else can you say?
I was was blessed to serve.
The Governing Board gathered around the PMT and laid hands on them to pray, as they knelt before the throne of God. All staff come to the front where the PMT and Governing Board laid hands on us and prayed. And then we all stood along the perimeter of the room and prayed for our leaders; our volunteers, God's devoted followers who, in an act of worship and obedience, serve joyfully and gratefully. So cool.
A woman (my Bible Study 'encourager') came to me after we were all dismissed to give me a hug. She said many kind words, most of which I prefer to just keep to myself, but she told me a story that is so telling of how God works. She said that around Christmas time, she was feeling very sad and alone. Family wasn't right... her extended family doesn't know the Lord and other circumstances in her life just had her carrying a heavy burden. She came to the Christmas Eve service and sat towards the back. Feeling depleated, she prayed and asked God to reveal Himself to her and to lift her spirit so that she could rejoice in the season. She said that she lifted her head, and just one or two rows down she saw a family - a mother, a father and a little baby. She said they looked so happy and that Jesus just emanated from them. She said that family was mine, and that I just radiated "mother". In that moment, she felt the presence of God.
You just never know who is watching or how God is going to use circumstances to speak to someone else. I was so touched. So few times do I get the chance to share my faith, or to talk about my life when I know that the other person is getting some benefit. Only once in the last year have I had that opportunity (that I know of), and apparently.... well... let's just say that it wasn't received in the heart that was given. But to know that God DOES use me... It's very confirming. So, I thank you, Jesus, for giving me that insight yesterday.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
A Week to Erase
If I had super powers, I'd erase these last couple of weeks from my history book. My little guy has been SO sick. He was in and out of the doc's office about 5 times in less than 2 weeks. It all started in October with a cold... which turned into a sinus infection, which turned into an ear infection... which was resistant to the first round of antibiotics and thus got worse... which then spread into his lungs... and then he got the flu on top of it. The worst of it started last Wednesday (over a week ago) when he started getting diarrhea, and began to vomit every now and again. He had this heavy cough, which was relatively productive, but he would cough so hard he'd gag, and then throw up. Then Thursday night he lost his appetite. By Friday, night, he was throwing up a lot and wouldn't eat anything. So I took him to the doc on Saturday. His ears were almost clear, so the doc (not our primary care that day) just told us to take him off of the augmentin he was on for his ear infection because he thought it was doing more harm than good at that point. By Sunday morning, I was back on the phone with an acute nurse because he still wouldn't eat, had terrible diarrhea, vomitting everything... No fever, though. So, back to the doc on Monday. Thank God our primary care was the one looking after him. He ran some blood tests...
And can I just say that there is no pain greater than to see your little baby in such pain? It was just awful. I had to hold him in my lap while the nurse pricked his tiny finger to draw blood. She needed three little viles full, but he healed so quickly that she couldn't get that last one, so she had to prick another finger. I know when the ugly cry is coming when there is a long silence, his face is all red, and his mouth is wide open. I just kep whispering that I love him and I'm so sorry.
And then we had to wait for the results. That was the longest 15 minutes. I just sat in the examination room with Jeffrey on my lap praying over him that it was nothing serious. We just cried together.
The doc came in and said all the tests came back normal, except his white cells were a bit elevated, which is good as it shows he is fighting the infection. He said that the next thing would be to give him a shot of antibiotics. He said it would work really well, but it "isn't a fun one"... that is... it hurts a lot. Hey, if the alternative is to let my baby suffer, I'll take the shot for 10 seconds of discomfort. So, off his pants come so the nurse can shoot him in the thigh. Once again, I had to hold him down while we administered a shot of pain.
The doc said that he should be feeling better by that evening, and his appetite should be back the following day. If he continues to vomit, there is something "more serious" happening. He asked me to call in the morning for an update.
Great! So... by that night, he was indeed feeling better. And he was definitely hungry. I just let him nurse whenever, and in the middle of the night he ate about 3 ounces (about half of his normal meel). By the morning, he was wiggling and smiling. The most beautiful thing I had seen.
I called the doc and left the message that all seemed to be better.
And then 15 minutes later, Jeffrey threw up. So, I called the doc and left the message. The nurse said he'd call me back.
I decided that I would just bring Jeffrey into work with me (since I had been staying home with him), and we'd just leave for the doc's from there if we needed to. I was getting Jeffrey ready, when he threw up again on the changing table. And then again in the car (within 15 minutes). All I kept hearing running through my mind was the doc saying, "If he continues to vomit, there's something more serious..." So, I called and left another message for the doc. On top of my mild panic, the nurse was a snag and said in a completely snotty tone, "He's with patients. He will call you back." I decided to call the acute nurse, but she, too, was busy and would need to call me back. I was at work by this time. Instead of going inside, I jumped in back and just held Jeffrey while I called Scott, who didn't answer his cell. I called the front desk and he wouldn't answer his office phone either. Kathy (the receptionist) came back on the line and said she wasn't sure where he was. I fell apart. I barely could speak, but managed to say that Jeffrey was very sick and I needed to find Scott. She paged him, then went looking for him. By this time, I took Jeffrey inside to wait, when all the ladies in that wing came over to us. It was really sweet... They told me to take him in and just wait to see a doc. A friend offered to come with me, while everyone else tries to find Scott.
So off we go.... About 10 minutes later my cell phone rang with the caller ID from Scott's boss. It was Scott who said he would meet us at the doc's office.
He arrived just a moment after we did. And they got us in right away. The doc immediately came to see him. (He had lost a pound by this time, which is quite a lot when you're only 20 pounds.) The doc examined him... said his ears were pussy again, and that because his appetite is back, we should just give him frequent VERY small meals (even if he wants more), and prescribed a couple of aerator meds (one to take the inflammation from his lungs, and not sure what the other does). I asked if this was serious. He said no. I could have killed him for saying that to me the other day. (Ya know, when a doc says, "there could be something more serious" I'm thinking "serious" as in Leukemia. Com'on doc.)
So... back to work to drop off my friend... and back home to watch Jeffrey.
Jeffrey HATES that aerator thing. It's this little tube with a face mask, fitting over his nose and mouth. He has to breathe in the meds that get squirted into it. At first he didn't mind. But after the 3rd dose, he was just scream and try to wiggle out of it. It takes two of us to hold him still, which really just makes it worse. We stopped giving it to him. It wasn't worth forcing him to stay still and breathe in something that he's just screaming into, and it took us over 20 minutes to quiet him down after the fact.
By Wednesday, he was feeling MUCH better. Took him to the doc for a follow up, who said his ears are clear and we just needed to watch him the rest of the week and through the weekend (keeping him home from daycare cuz he's probably contagious). Scott and I decided to work shifts so we both take turns watching Jeffrey and working. That evening I went into work for the first time that week. Got about 4 hours in.
Thursday morning, I woke up feeling completely crappy. The good news is that Jeffrey was feeling really good. Completely back to his happy self (only with a wheeze and a productive cough). I went into work for about 2 hours until I felt like I would throw up. (I figured I was probably just exhausted after staying up all day and all night with my little guy.)
I was on the couch all day Thursday. Scott had a Christmas party for his department at his boss' that night. I wasn't sure I'd make it, but decided to go (against my better judgement). I didn't eat... just sat on the couch with Jeffrey the entire evening. We left around 10:15 or so... and about half-way home, I had Scott pull over so I could throw up ("feeding the squirrels" as Scott's boss put it).
F.
So, now I have the flu... which is probably what Jeffrey had.
I had all the same symptoms, except the cough and wheeze. Vomitting. Diarrhea. No appetite.
I finally got a tad of sleep last night and I'm feeling a bit better this morning.
Jeffrey is crying for breakfast. I'm hungry. We still haven't put up our Christmas tree or sent out Christmas cards. If I could just wave my magic wand, these last two weeks would just disappear.
And can I just say that there is no pain greater than to see your little baby in such pain? It was just awful. I had to hold him in my lap while the nurse pricked his tiny finger to draw blood. She needed three little viles full, but he healed so quickly that she couldn't get that last one, so she had to prick another finger. I know when the ugly cry is coming when there is a long silence, his face is all red, and his mouth is wide open. I just kep whispering that I love him and I'm so sorry.
And then we had to wait for the results. That was the longest 15 minutes. I just sat in the examination room with Jeffrey on my lap praying over him that it was nothing serious. We just cried together.
The doc came in and said all the tests came back normal, except his white cells were a bit elevated, which is good as it shows he is fighting the infection. He said that the next thing would be to give him a shot of antibiotics. He said it would work really well, but it "isn't a fun one"... that is... it hurts a lot. Hey, if the alternative is to let my baby suffer, I'll take the shot for 10 seconds of discomfort. So, off his pants come so the nurse can shoot him in the thigh. Once again, I had to hold him down while we administered a shot of pain.
The doc said that he should be feeling better by that evening, and his appetite should be back the following day. If he continues to vomit, there is something "more serious" happening. He asked me to call in the morning for an update.
Great! So... by that night, he was indeed feeling better. And he was definitely hungry. I just let him nurse whenever, and in the middle of the night he ate about 3 ounces (about half of his normal meel). By the morning, he was wiggling and smiling. The most beautiful thing I had seen.
I called the doc and left the message that all seemed to be better.
And then 15 minutes later, Jeffrey threw up. So, I called the doc and left the message. The nurse said he'd call me back.
I decided that I would just bring Jeffrey into work with me (since I had been staying home with him), and we'd just leave for the doc's from there if we needed to. I was getting Jeffrey ready, when he threw up again on the changing table. And then again in the car (within 15 minutes). All I kept hearing running through my mind was the doc saying, "If he continues to vomit, there's something more serious..." So, I called and left another message for the doc. On top of my mild panic, the nurse was a snag and said in a completely snotty tone, "He's with patients. He will call you back." I decided to call the acute nurse, but she, too, was busy and would need to call me back. I was at work by this time. Instead of going inside, I jumped in back and just held Jeffrey while I called Scott, who didn't answer his cell. I called the front desk and he wouldn't answer his office phone either. Kathy (the receptionist) came back on the line and said she wasn't sure where he was. I fell apart. I barely could speak, but managed to say that Jeffrey was very sick and I needed to find Scott. She paged him, then went looking for him. By this time, I took Jeffrey inside to wait, when all the ladies in that wing came over to us. It was really sweet... They told me to take him in and just wait to see a doc. A friend offered to come with me, while everyone else tries to find Scott.
So off we go.... About 10 minutes later my cell phone rang with the caller ID from Scott's boss. It was Scott who said he would meet us at the doc's office.
He arrived just a moment after we did. And they got us in right away. The doc immediately came to see him. (He had lost a pound by this time, which is quite a lot when you're only 20 pounds.) The doc examined him... said his ears were pussy again, and that because his appetite is back, we should just give him frequent VERY small meals (even if he wants more), and prescribed a couple of aerator meds (one to take the inflammation from his lungs, and not sure what the other does). I asked if this was serious. He said no. I could have killed him for saying that to me the other day. (Ya know, when a doc says, "there could be something more serious" I'm thinking "serious" as in Leukemia. Com'on doc.)
So... back to work to drop off my friend... and back home to watch Jeffrey.
Jeffrey HATES that aerator thing. It's this little tube with a face mask, fitting over his nose and mouth. He has to breathe in the meds that get squirted into it. At first he didn't mind. But after the 3rd dose, he was just scream and try to wiggle out of it. It takes two of us to hold him still, which really just makes it worse. We stopped giving it to him. It wasn't worth forcing him to stay still and breathe in something that he's just screaming into, and it took us over 20 minutes to quiet him down after the fact.
By Wednesday, he was feeling MUCH better. Took him to the doc for a follow up, who said his ears are clear and we just needed to watch him the rest of the week and through the weekend (keeping him home from daycare cuz he's probably contagious). Scott and I decided to work shifts so we both take turns watching Jeffrey and working. That evening I went into work for the first time that week. Got about 4 hours in.
Thursday morning, I woke up feeling completely crappy. The good news is that Jeffrey was feeling really good. Completely back to his happy self (only with a wheeze and a productive cough). I went into work for about 2 hours until I felt like I would throw up. (I figured I was probably just exhausted after staying up all day and all night with my little guy.)
I was on the couch all day Thursday. Scott had a Christmas party for his department at his boss' that night. I wasn't sure I'd make it, but decided to go (against my better judgement). I didn't eat... just sat on the couch with Jeffrey the entire evening. We left around 10:15 or so... and about half-way home, I had Scott pull over so I could throw up ("feeding the squirrels" as Scott's boss put it).
F.
So, now I have the flu... which is probably what Jeffrey had.
I had all the same symptoms, except the cough and wheeze. Vomitting. Diarrhea. No appetite.
I finally got a tad of sleep last night and I'm feeling a bit better this morning.
Jeffrey is crying for breakfast. I'm hungry. We still haven't put up our Christmas tree or sent out Christmas cards. If I could just wave my magic wand, these last two weeks would just disappear.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Good Apples
My friend (one of my "single digits") and I are planning on getting our wigs busted (aka a hair cut). I'll have to admit that I'll miss my long hair, but Jeffrey is constantly grabbing and pulling at it anyway. I don't think I'll really mourn the loss, but it will be a change that will take some getting used to.
My dome will be pruned. Just as my life is being pruned.
When I was living in Billings, Montana, I attended Faith Chapel. There was a pastor (Rich Trees) who had served there for many years, and who had been led to leave that church to pastor a super tiny church in Absarokee where he grew up... Kind of a coming home for him, but a loss for our church at the time. I remember as he was getting up to deliver his last sermon to the congregation, everyone spontaneously stood in uproarious applause. He was humbled... But then again he was a humble man. He spoke about pruning. He used his family's apple trees as an illustration. In order to bear good fruit, a tree must be pruned. If it is left to grow on its own, its limbs become overgrown, and in turn, the fruit becomes small, if it's even able to bear fruit at all. He said that if we were the tree, being pruned would probably hurt, but in the end it was for our benefit. He showed us a "good apple" and a "bad apple". The difference was obvious. One was large and lucious. The other was small, off-colored and riddled with dark spots. He paused to gain his composure and said, "You are good apples."
That stuck with me for some reason. I have contemplated often on being pruned. We're pruned through our circumstances, through the choices we make, through the submission to our Lord, particularly when He leads us outside of our comfort zone or gives us answers we don't want to hear.
I'm grateful for being pruned. It hurts. It sucks. But in the end, the fruit is large and lucious.
Thank you, Jesus, for teaching me to submit to Your authority and for helping me to produce good apples.
My dome will be pruned. Just as my life is being pruned.
When I was living in Billings, Montana, I attended Faith Chapel. There was a pastor (Rich Trees) who had served there for many years, and who had been led to leave that church to pastor a super tiny church in Absarokee where he grew up... Kind of a coming home for him, but a loss for our church at the time. I remember as he was getting up to deliver his last sermon to the congregation, everyone spontaneously stood in uproarious applause. He was humbled... But then again he was a humble man. He spoke about pruning. He used his family's apple trees as an illustration. In order to bear good fruit, a tree must be pruned. If it is left to grow on its own, its limbs become overgrown, and in turn, the fruit becomes small, if it's even able to bear fruit at all. He said that if we were the tree, being pruned would probably hurt, but in the end it was for our benefit. He showed us a "good apple" and a "bad apple". The difference was obvious. One was large and lucious. The other was small, off-colored and riddled with dark spots. He paused to gain his composure and said, "You are good apples."
That stuck with me for some reason. I have contemplated often on being pruned. We're pruned through our circumstances, through the choices we make, through the submission to our Lord, particularly when He leads us outside of our comfort zone or gives us answers we don't want to hear.
I'm grateful for being pruned. It hurts. It sucks. But in the end, the fruit is large and lucious.
Thank you, Jesus, for teaching me to submit to Your authority and for helping me to produce good apples.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Perhaps the Answer...
It's hard to be vulnerable. For some, it's easier to build a wall around yourself for protection. In my experience, that only led to shallow relationships and loneliness. To put yourself out there allows others the opportunity to stomp on you... but the honesty is worth the risk.
The number of people who are truly close to me are in the single digits. I have a lot of friends, but they're really more like buddies - people I can hang out with and share a few good laughs. We may even share a few tears together, but the silence with them is still uncomfortable. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. I've been hardened to some extent by life and loss, hurt and disappointment. I desire to know people on a deeper level and it takes time for me to get to the point of spiritual nakedness. I can stand before my Lord that way, honored to be broken and bruised for the One who was broken for me. But to be that naked (spiritually and emotionally) in front of others like me (that is, broken, hardened, sinful... human) takes time and commitment.
I shed my layers recently, showing my under belly. A couple of entries ago I made mention of having to ask a friend for forgiveness and being ok with having my plea rejected. We talked. We hugged (and it was a good hug, not a back-pat, stick your butt out kind of hug). And then the Deceiver got a foothold. Through a bizarre series of misunderstandings and misperceptions, what I originally thought was progress, actually became a serious setback. I can't say that my apology was rejected, but I think I lost a friend tonight. I feel responsible, but I honestly don't know why.
It's tragic and sad. Disappointing and confusing. I'm still hoping for a clear answer of some sort, but I don't know what that would look like.
God has a funny way of teaching us humility and patience. Patience has never been a a great strength. (I do, however, have the strenghts of Achiever and Activator, among others, just in case you wanted to know.) I do try to practice that discipline (and it is a discipline). Waiting... waiting...
The positive to all of this is that the answer I was waiting for may have come tonight. It's not the clear answer I wanted, but it's an answer nonetheless. I'm still hoping for reconciliation. We'll see.
I got honest. I got stomped. Still single digits. It's been worth the risk.
The number of people who are truly close to me are in the single digits. I have a lot of friends, but they're really more like buddies - people I can hang out with and share a few good laughs. We may even share a few tears together, but the silence with them is still uncomfortable. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. I've been hardened to some extent by life and loss, hurt and disappointment. I desire to know people on a deeper level and it takes time for me to get to the point of spiritual nakedness. I can stand before my Lord that way, honored to be broken and bruised for the One who was broken for me. But to be that naked (spiritually and emotionally) in front of others like me (that is, broken, hardened, sinful... human) takes time and commitment.
I shed my layers recently, showing my under belly. A couple of entries ago I made mention of having to ask a friend for forgiveness and being ok with having my plea rejected. We talked. We hugged (and it was a good hug, not a back-pat, stick your butt out kind of hug). And then the Deceiver got a foothold. Through a bizarre series of misunderstandings and misperceptions, what I originally thought was progress, actually became a serious setback. I can't say that my apology was rejected, but I think I lost a friend tonight. I feel responsible, but I honestly don't know why.
It's tragic and sad. Disappointing and confusing. I'm still hoping for a clear answer of some sort, but I don't know what that would look like.
God has a funny way of teaching us humility and patience. Patience has never been a a great strength. (I do, however, have the strenghts of Achiever and Activator, among others, just in case you wanted to know.) I do try to practice that discipline (and it is a discipline). Waiting... waiting...
The positive to all of this is that the answer I was waiting for may have come tonight. It's not the clear answer I wanted, but it's an answer nonetheless. I'm still hoping for reconciliation. We'll see.
I got honest. I got stomped. Still single digits. It's been worth the risk.
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