Why Can't We Be Friends?

I have always loved going to zoos and wildlife parks. I love to look at the animals. My problem is that it does not seem like animals like me. I have been bitten and attacked by all sorts of animals.

The first occurrence of my bad luck came when I was about five years old. We were at Natural Bridge Wildlife Ranch, which is a drive through wildlife park where you can feed the animals. When you enter the park they tell you that feeding the animals is at your own risk. They also tell you to drop the food onto the ground and do not feed the animals out of your hands. Well, I was feeding the animals out of my hands and it was all going great until we got to the zebras. In case you never knew, zebras bite, often, and one bit me right in the palm of my hand. To this day I am still frightened of zebras and their giant faces and teeth.

My fear of zebras is nothing compared to my fear of cheetahs. Most people probably think this is nuts, but I have a legitimate reason for my terror. We were visiting the zoo when I was around eight years old. I vividly remember that I was wearing a bright yellow shirt that day. The cheetahs enclosure could be seen from above as well as from a window at ground level. My family had walked down the stairs and was looking at the cheetah that was laying down a long way from the window and I had stopped at the top of the stairs to look at another animal. They had been watching it for a while when I walked down the stairs. When I reached the window the cheetah had seen me and run all the way across the enclosure and slammed into the glass window right where I was standing. I am pretty sure I cried or screamed or both. To this day I do not wear yellow shirts. I have bought yellow shirts a couple of times only to wear them and remember the cheetah. Those yellow shirts quickly got donated to the Salvation Army.

Then, there were several times I got bit by birds. Birds are mean and they hurt. Landa Park always has ducks and geese that people feed. When we would go to the park we occasionally fed them. The bad part comes when you quit feeding the geese or when they think you should start feeding them. They chase you down and will bite you. You may think getting bit by a goose is not painful, but it does not feel good. My other most hated bird is some kind of crowned something or another from Africa. I got bit by this bird at the zoo and it really, hurts. I won't lie and say that this was the birds fault. I was a dumb child who did not listen to my parents or obey the signs that told me not to put my fingers in the cages. So, I put my childish fingers in the cage to touch the beautiful crowned bird and instead of touching fluffy feathers, I got bit in the finger by a sharp beak.

The last bad animal encounter comes from my adult life. Let me just say I did not really learn my lesson from my past animal encounters. When I was pregnant with Little Bear, we went on a trip to Texas and went to Fossil Rim, another drive through wildlife place. I was feeding the addax and when I quit feeding one of them it made him angry. He somehow managed to get part of his horns IN THE CAR and was bashing me in the head with his horns and the top of his head. It was scary and painful. When he whacked me in the head, Popeye said I had a strange and confused look on my face. He asked if I was okay and I responded with something like, "Yeah, I guess so."  I was yelling at Popeye to "Go, Go" and he said something along the lines of "I can't his head is in the car," as I got whacked in the head again. I kept yelling and finally Popeye started driving. What felt like a long time later with a combination of Popeye driving and me shoving the mean antelope away we got away and I was safe again.

Since then, I really try to be more careful with wildlife. I have successfully taken Little Bear to a drive through wildlife ranch without any injuries. I don't stick my fingers through cages now. I don't feed birds. I roll the windows up when we get close to zebras. I don't wear yellow shirts. I hope my awful animal encounters are over.

When It Rains It Pours Or A Really Bad Day

When I was a few months out of college, I got a job working for a college textbook company. I was hired as a manager trainee and knew that when I got finished with my training I would have to relocate. When it came time to relocate, I was sent to the Rio Grande River Valley. I was excited. Winter is really not a thing there and it was only about 5 hours from my family and friends.

There were several things I did not really realize when I moved. First, I didn't realize how hard it would be without friends or family nearby. Second, I didn't realize that I would be the only white person in the room most of the time. 

Well, on my day from hell, only a month after moving there, both of those things became extremely evident. My day started around three o'clock in the morning. My bed had gone crashing into the floor or at least one corner of it did, which jolted me awake. So, I proceeded to struggle with my mattress and box springs to fix things so they did not get ruined or break the three bolts that were still holding my bed frame together. 

This day I was filling in for a manager at our sister store across town and had to get up earlier than normal to be there. When I woke up it was raining cats and dogs. I have a tiny car and the streets were starting to flood. I made it to the store before the worst of the flooding started. Just after I got there and let myself into the building they started closing streets all over town. 

When I walked into the store, I was greeted by water all over the floor. The building was leaking in several places. There was water running in under the back door and water running down the wall and in the windows that lined one wall. There were textbooks sitting in boxes and piles on the floor getting wet. I quickly moved the books out of the water and then was left wondering how I could possibly get all the water that was left off of the floor and how to stop it from pouring in. While I was doing all this the power was flickering off and on constantly and resetting the computers.

Even worse the phone kept ringing as our regional manager called wondering if I had opened the store. He kept telling me to open the store and to clean up. I was trying, but his constant phone calls were not helping. The roads were closed so we would not have any customers until the road opened again, nor would we have any employees until the road opened again. The regional manager was flying in later that morning so I was rushing trying to get the disaster cleaned up. After mopping for what felt like hours and dumping hundreds of buckets of dirty water out the back door the floor was mostly dry and the rain had lessened enough that water was no longer pouring down the walls. 

The regional manager arrived and so did the other employee. After a lecture from my boss, I headed back to my normal store. On the way, yet another disaster struck. As I was making a turn something on my car snapped and I lost power to the car. I coasted into the parking lot of Peter Piper Pizza. Sitting in the car without power in South Texas is HOT. It was the middle of July and the rain had stopped which left everything more humid than normal. I called my insurance companies' roadside assistance that told me that it would be about an hour before the tow truck arrived. While I waited I crawled under the car and found a chunk of metal hanging down. Turns out it was some kind of important pulley and it had snapped in half. I put it on the seat of the car and walked into Peter Piper to buy a bottle of water. Just as I was getting back to the car a large Hispanic man came up and grabbed me by the arm and started to try to drag me to his car. The whole time he was talking to me in Spanish, which I only have a minimal grasp on. I could not get him to let go even though I was yelling and struggling. He finally turned towards me and I kneed him, right in the balls, and took off running for my car. I jumped in and locked the doors. He was in pain and kind of waddled the rest of the way to his car and left. 

So, I sat in the car with the windows rolled most of the way up waiting for another 30 minutes for the tow truck. I answered numerous phone calls from my boss who was asking when I would be back at my normal store. I continued to tell him it would depend on when the tow truck arrived and what happened with my car. He was not happy. When the tow truck arrived I got in (even though I was a little afraid to do so after my last encounter with a strange man). The tow truck driver asked where I wanted to go, and I said "I don't know. Somewhere that can fix my car today without costing a fortune." He made a phone call to a company that said they could do it and off we went. As we drove we quickly were driving through places I did not recognize and there were signs saying "10 miles to Mexico" and counting down quickly. The last sign I saw was only 2 miles to Mexico. I was starting to feel concerned again and then we finally pulled into the shop.

The shop quickly found the problem and then had a hard time finding the part. After two hours of phone calls, they found my part in a junkyard just across the border. I told them that was fine as long as it could get fixed that day. While they went to get the part I walked down the road to Subway for a late lunch. I was greeted by an employee who says "Wow, you look like hell." I responded with something like "Thanks, I guess." 

Thankfully after more than four hours, they fixed my car. When I got back in my car, the first thing I heard on the radio was a tornado warning and I would be driving straight through it. The bookstore was closing in 10 minutes, by the time I got there. I don't know when I have ever been so grateful for a day to be done. Flooding, car repairs, being drug towards a stranger's car, and a broken bed were more than enough bad things for one day.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

We all have treasured memories and magical times from our youth. Some of my most magical memories are from Christmas Eve. It was a special day for our family. Growing up we never missed the family gathering at my grandparent's house to celebrate together on Christmas Eve.

My aunt, uncle, and cousin met up with my family at my grandparent's house each year on Christmas Eve. I don't remember a year that we missed Christmas Eve until I was grown up and moved far away from home.

These Christmas Eve celebrations were usually joyful occasions, but as we got to our teenage years there were some grouchy teenagers there, namely my brother and I.  Especially when Grandma forced us to bring our band instruments and play. My brother and my cousin were good and I was not, but Grandma did not care. We played Christmas carols and she was happy.

One of my favorite memories of Christmas Eve was how Grandpa would label our gifts from him as from Santa. We all knew his handwriting even as kids, but the joy these gifts from Santa brought were fun. I always treasure that he went this extra step to make our Christmas magical.

Grandpa always bought chocolate covered cherries for the ladies in the family. He would buy the cheap red Queen Anne's boxes you see in the stores. They are not fancy and now that I am an adult I am not that big of a fan, but it was his thing and we loved it. My dad has carried this tradition on since my Grandpa passed away. It still brings joy to my heart to see those red boxes of chocolate covered cherries sitting under the tree.

Each year on our way out the door, Grandpa would say, "Make sure you are watching for Santa on the way home. You might see Rudolph's nose or hear the sleigh bells." My brother and eye would keep our eyes peeled the whole way home looking for Santa Claus.

So tonight, love your family. Remember the good times. Make Christmas magical. Oh, and read "'Twas the Night Before Christmas".

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"  ~ Clement Clarke Moore 

A Boatload of Memories, More Laundry, and a House to Clean

Getting ready for company is always fun. You anticipate your guest's arrival for a while. In most cases, you try your absolute best to make everything look perfect. You look forward to friends or family coming to visit, but you dread the thought of extra scrubbing and dusting. It's the nature of the beast, I suppose.

I know I am not the only one that dreads the cleaning. I'm not going to lie, I am not the best housekeeper. I keep things sort of clean, but we have our own system for organization and sometimes it consists of a pile of papers here and a pile of books there. Other times
our system gets knocked over by Little Bear as he runs past. Then, we just have a mess.

When people come to visit our piles get picked up and put away. When Popeye is in charge of cleaning the piles just get moved and hidden. We move the furniture and vacuum underneath it. We scrub everything an extra time or two. I actually get out the duster and dust all the knick-knacks and picture frames.

When people arrive then the real fun begins. We hang out, we enjoy each others company. We eat good food. Life is good.

Then, our company leaves and we are left with a boatload of memories, more laundry, and a house to clean. Thank goodness the memories make it worth the cleaning and then some.

Shacke XL Duffel Bag

This duffel bag by Shacke is huge. When I read the listing to get the size and saw how big it is I thought, “Oh, neat. That’s pretty big.” In reality, I had no idea how big it would really be until it showed up and I started filling it up. It says the bag can hold 75 pounds and I do not doubt that it can.


Be warned if you fill it that full, it will be extremely heavy and awkward. My husband used this to carry stuff when he came home from an extended overseas trip. He filled it up with tons of stuff. It was heavy and horribly awkward to carry, but it held everything he needed it to and it could have held me. Although more would have made it nearly impossible to carry around. It has a shoulder strap and handles so you have the option of hand carrying it or putting it over your shoulder.


When the bag arrived at my house, my son and I tested it to make sure it was what my husband needed. He was gone and did not have enough bags to get everything home so I had to order him a bag and ship it to him in a care package. Little Bear and I fit 3 huge pillows in it and had room left over . It is really a huge bag. You could hold more than enough stuff for one trip. Little Bear also tried it out and asked if I could mail him in it since he fit. 


One of my favorite features besides its giant size is that this bag folds up into a nice neat square for storage. The zipper goes all the way around so it does not come unfolded. When it is folded up the handles tuck in and you don’t have to worry about it hanging down or getting caught on anything.

You can buy the Shacke XL duffel bag here. 

5 of My Favorite Verses

1) Psalms 9:1 

I love this verse and its beautiful reminder to give thanks to the Lord.

 2) Jeremiah 29:11 

I love the promise in this verse that God has plans for me, not to harm me.

3) Matthew 11:28

I love everything about this verse. When I feel weary and overworked I always come back to this verse and remember to turn to Him.

4) Philippians 4:6 

Be anxious for nothing.... A really hard thing to master, but this verse holds truths I need to learn and store away in my heart to remember in my times or anxiety and need. 

5) Hebrews 6:19

I memorized this verse during our most recent deployment. I repeated it often and had it on my mirror as a reminder of God's promises and the hope He brings us. 

Real Pants or Not?

I never wore leggings until after I was diagnosed with gastroparesis. Now I love leggings and yoga pants. They are my favorite pants. When eating makes me bloated, not your normal bloated but a painful balloon in my belly kind of bloated, you do what you have to do. Jeans are not an option on those days.


Not wearing jeans every day has been a huge sacrifice for me. I always wear jeans, always have. They are my favorite pants, but when I am bloated they really hurt. I had no choice, but to give in to my bloated belly and find alternatives.

I started with dresses. I love a good dress. However, dresses are not good for working in the yard and garden. They are not good for laying in the hammock. A dress is not always an option. So, you guessed it... I turned to yoga pants and leggings.

If you would have asked my grandma she would say that leggings are not real pants and no one needs to be wearing them out in public. My dad would agree with her. Talking on the phone with my grandma she was always complaining about the old ladies with too much fat wearing leggings. She said no one ever needed to wear pants that tight, old or young, but especially old.

I have learned something. I don't really care that my grandma would cringe if she were here and knew how many times I have walked out my front door and enjoyed the day wearing leggings and a tunic top. Little Bear told me the other day that he was sure my grandma could see me from heaven. This thought made me laugh and laugh. I am sure that as she looks down on me wearing leggings she is ranting about how she cannot believe I would do such a thing and Jesus is telling her it's okay. Pretty sure she would argue with even God about whether or not leggings are acceptable pants. I love my leggings. I love my grandma, but from her seat up in heaven. she will just have to understand that sometimes, leggings is just the best option I have.

I honestly have learned to like leggings. They are extremely comfortable. They are made from a soft and cozy fabric. They fit me well without feeling like a saw blade trying to cut through my abdomen as I swell up after eating. They look really cute with a long shirt and boots. Even if they looked awful, I would probably keep wearing them.

So, it's up to you to decide for yourself, are leggings real pants or not? In my book, leggings are real pants.

A Loving Kid with a Big-Heart and a Lot of Faith

A couple of weeks ago, Sunday morning church both wonderful and emotional. It started like every other Sunday morning does. I was dragging because I hate mornings and am never ready to get up. Little Bear and Popeye were up and ready long before I was. We left for church and were only a couple of minutes late for Sunday School. I blame traffic, not really it was all me and my slowness.

This Sunday was a special service at our church. It was our celebration of All Saint's Day. They read a list of names of our church members that passed away during the last year and they lit candles for them. After this, we had a time for people to speak the names of family members and friends who have passed away in the last year.

I have been extra tearful lately, I blame hormones, but the tears started rolling down my face and I could not speak. Little Bear looks at me and whispers "say her name mom." When he realized I couldn't say it for my tears he shyly says "Great Grandma." Then, he whispers to us "I don't know her real name." Popeye told him and Little Bear said it quietly just as the prayer started.

The next thing Little Bear did was crawl into my lap and hug me tight until my tears stopped flowing. Then, sweet Little Bear looked into my eyes and apologized for messing up her name. I whispered to him that he did well and thank you and hugged my big-hearted boy tight.

Later in the service, we had the Lord's Supper. Little Bear accepted Jesus several years ago but has always been in children's church when we have done the Lord's Supper. This was the first time he participated in it. I whispered as much explanation as I could about how and why we do it. When the tray of tiny, gross, dry crackers (you know you have had that thought, too) came around, I reminded him to only touch ONE cracker and then I told him they are dry, hard, and do not taste good. I also told him not to make any ugly faces or say anything about how bad they taste.

The time came to eat our bread and the look on Little Bear's face was one of dismay and disgust and trying really hard to hide it. He chewed and chewed trying to finish the tiny piece of cracker. When he finally swallowed it down, he looked at me and whispered: "You were right, Mom, they are bad."

The best part of Sunday came when Little Bear walked down the aisle to make a profession of faith and ask to be baptized. He was shy and nervous so he took Popeye and me with him. He talked to the pastor about his decision and our church welcomed him with open arms. Little Bear was shy about standing up in front of everyone and having everyone stare at him. When people came up to shake his hand after the service, my Little Bear was in his element. He loved shaking hands and talking to everyone. He even asked me if he could do that part again sometime.

So, all in all, our Sunday was beautiful. Our Little Bear is turning into a loving kid with a big-heart and a lot of faith.

Overwhelmed

Do you ever feel really overwhelmed? I am at that point right now. I feel like I have so many irons in the fire that I do not know how I will ever get everything done. It is pretty rough lately. I know I am not as busy as some people, but I am overwhelmed

My irons have grown in the last few months since Popeye got home. Since Popeye got home laundry multiplied immensely, along with other chores. I also started working again for the first time in years. I work from home, but it is still not something I am used to. I enjoy the work. Freelance writing is fun, but it is something that takes away from what had been my normal schedule for years.

I have also taken on some things like being an assistant den leader for Little Bear's den. Then, there are projects like finishing the bathrooms, sealing the tile floors in the rest of the house, and then cleaning up after we get it all done. I am ready to have my house back to normal instead of being torn apart. Soon, I hope, it will all be done.

One of my many irons

To help combat the overwhelmed feeling I have made myself a schedule. The first part of my day begins with getting Little Bear off to school. After that, I come home and take my morning nap. I know, I know, most of you think a morning nap sounds crazy, but with my gastroparesis, I need a morning nap to function the rest of the day without biting anyone's head off or falling asleep mid-afternoon.

My writing work doesn't take too long most days so I am scheduling it for my mornings and early afternoons. I usually try to get it done around lunch time. I schedule chores and painting for the afternoons. Then, I plan my time for making dinner and doing laundry in the evenings.

Having a schedule really helps, but even more than having a schedule, I have found that starting my day off right helps most. On days I start with reading my Bible and having some quality prayer or my devotional time I have a much better and more productive day. I am in an online Bible study group that I love. When I keep up with that I do much better at keeping up with all the other things in life. Working on my relationship with God helps me control my stress and anxiety and I need all the help I can get with that.

They are like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. 

Luke 6:48  

Ten Years

As a wee lass, ten years seemed like forever. I could not wait to be sixteen so I could drive. Then, I was waiting to be eighteen so I could buy lottery tickets and after eighteen I was waiting for twenty-one. Time could not move fast enough in those days.

Now that I am an old lady time seems to fly by. The last ten years have gone by with amazing speed. During the last ten years, I got my first real job. My divorce was finalized. I got married to Popeye. Then, Little Bear was born. 

I never knew how time would fly by and I would be looking back wondering where all those years have gone, but here I sit wondering how time passed by so quickly. This year marks ten years of Popeye's career. 

Popeye's job is hard. Some days it is because the work is hard and other times it is because being away from his family is hard. He misses out on a lot of family time. He misses school plays, birthdays, holidays, and just life. While Popeye is deployed we don't get to put life on hold. We cannot press pause on Little Bear growing up. We cannot stop time to wait for our anniversary. It's hard, on Popeye and on Little Bear and I. 

The hardships make the easy times sweeter than ever. The times when Popeye is home we cherish more. We relish in the time we spend together. I don't have the heart to count how much time we have missed out on during our marriage, but I know that the time we spend together is worth so much more. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. 

So, here's to you Popeye... Happy Ten Years! You make us proud daily with the sacrifices you make. You sacrifice your time and energy to protect the freedoms we hold most dear. Thank you for your sacrifices and thank you for your service!

Some Simple Ways to Help Our Veterans

As a military wife, veterans have a special place in my heart. We all know military life is hard on its members and their families. Veterans have been through things most of us could never imagine. I am grateful for all the work they do. I am grateful for their sacrifices, even when those sacrifices make life hard.

Many of our countries veterans need help, Often they try to hide that they need help. Even if you do not know anyone who has served in our countries armed forces there are a few things you can do to show your support.

 1) Pray for them. 

A friend of the family always says "Praying is the most and the least you can do for someone." You don't have to know a person to pray for them and prayer can always help. 

2) Write a letter or send a package. 

There are several organizations that can connect you with veterans. Operation Gratitude has several ways to connect with veterans as well as active-duty service members. They have a lot of other volunteer opportunities you can check out.

You can also share letters with veterans through A Million Thanks. They have some sample letters available on their websites. 

3) Share their lives. 

If you know a veteran with a wonderful story you can share that story as part of the Veterans History Project. The Veterans History Project is a really great project that helps people to preserve and collect stories and record them. There are lots of forms to fill out and information to help you prepare for interviewing the veterans. The project will help to tell the stories of veterans who served in many of the wars the US has been involved with. When the stories are completed they can be turned in to the Library of Congress to be archived for generations to come. 

4) Spend time with some veterans. 

Often times you can visit veterans at your local VA hospitals. You can also sit and talk with veterans through many local organizations in your area. A great organization to volunteer with is DAV. They have many opportunities to volunteer such as hospital visits and driving disabled veterans to appointments.  

5) Help build homes for troops. 

Homes for Troops is an awesome organization that provides help building or renovating homes for wounded veterans and service members. If you cannot physically help with their projects you can make donations through their website. 

Take this Veteran's Day and thank a veteran. Show them you care! 

Cemeteries, Crows, and Curanderos

Growing up we camped a lot. We camped on vacations and weekend trips. My brother was a Boy Scout. My dad had been an Eagle Scout. I thought I knew basically everything I needed to know about the wilderness and camping. 

My family and I when I was in high school

One winter when I was in high school my family and this lady and her husband went camping in Big Bend National Park. It's on the border of West TX and Mexico. The man was a game warden and he knew all kinds of things I had never heard of.

He taught us about this white fuzzy thing on prickly pear cactus. When you touched it, it was red underneath and could be used to dye your skin. We had a lot of fun sneaking up on people and smearing it on their faces. We also learned about using long cactus thorns and reeds or thick grass to make spears. Then, we all threw these spears at each other.

One day we were driving around the park and stopped at an old cemetery. The cemetery had graves that were covered with pebbles and small rocks of all different types, agates, quartz, and some other beautiful rocks. They were stacked along graves and near and on headstones. Our friend saw some rocks she thought were pretty on someone's grave and put them in her pocket.

As we drove and walked around the rest of the day, we gave our friend grief for being a grave robber and stealing from the dead. There was a single crow nearly everywhere we went that day. Her husband and my dad lovingly convinced her the crow was a curandero or witch doctor, and it was going to curse her for stealing from the dead.

Later that day we drove past a different small cemetery. She hollered for us to stop. My dad backed up so we could get out there. She jumped out of the car and everyone sent me out with her. She put her rocks on the graves there although this cemetery did not have rocks. It had coins.... Lots of really OLD coins.

She thought the coins were neat, and so did I. She wanted to stop to look at them, but I refused to pause long enough to let her ponder robbing the dead again. The crows still were everywhere we went. We told her it was because now the curanderos were after her because she stole from the first grave and then put the rocks on the grave of the dead that wanted coins.

We had a chance of snow that night so we packed up camp and went to check into the lodge that night because none of us wanted to freeze. The men checked in and when they got into their room she was scared and yelped. There was a crow feather on laid upon her pillow.

I found out later that night her husband had found it and sneakily gave it to my brother, who quickly snuck in and out of their hotel room there while her husband distracted her unloading the car.

Worthy in His Eyes

Growing up we were in church every Sunday and Wednesday and almost any time someone was at church. We were there all the time. My mom was the church secretary for years and my dad was a deacon.

I accepted Jesus when I was in the fourth grade. My brother walked down the aisle to accept Jesus on Sunday morning. Our Sunday lunch conversation that day revolved around his decision to become a Christian. That lunchtime conversation tugged at my heart. That evening I walked down the aisle and made my public profession of faith. From that moment on I was a daughter of Christ. 

As a youth I helped with Vacation Bible School. I went to camp and to all the youth group events. I enjoyed church. I loved going. I brought friends when I could and I was always inviting people to church. 

In college, I regularly shared my faith with my friends. I spent my first two years of college going to a Christian College, although a different denomination than I was raised in. I went to chapel during the week. I found a sense of peace and belonging fellowshipping with other believers. 

When I married my ex-husband, I went through the adult RCIA Catholic Classes. I was confirmed, although now I look back and admit I should not have been. I never agreed with all the things I learned there. I never went to confession. I did not ever pray a Hail Mary or a prayer to the saints. Catholicism was not for me. 

Somewhere in the midst of "becoming" Catholic, my grandpa passing away, getting married and divorced, I lost my way. I was angry... at myself and at God. I was angry for the way my life turned out. I was angry at the awkward unwelcome feeling I got every time I went to mass. All these things were my own doing. The only one that was not my fault was my grandpa's cancer and death and that was just a sad fact of life.

During that time of my life, I fled. I ran from God and church. I was no longer going to the Catholic church, but going to my home church, the church I grew up in I felt just as lost. My anger and discouraged heart kept me from feeling at home there. The people there loved me, just as they always had, but I felt alone. 

I wanted nothing to do with God or His people. I blamed Him for my life being a mess. I was angry that he had not closed the doors that led me into distress and a broken heart. On the rare occassion, I was on speaking terms with God I ranted and I raved at Him. How could He let this happen to me?

I moved away from home after a while. Almost eighteen months after my divorce began, I walked into a church for the first time on my own. I walked out of church an hour or so later feeling blessed. I felt God speaking to me. I don't remember the sermon that day, but I remember feeling like the message was meant for me. It was there in that church six hours from home, one of the only white people in the building, that God spoke to my heart so much that I felt at home and at peace for the first time in years.  

God had been calling me to Him for a while, but I had been unwilling to listen. I made a huge mess of my life and made more mistakes than I could ever count. I hurt myself and the people I loved, but God loved me enough to wait out my anger. He was there when I was ready to drag my good for nothing carcass back to Him. He found me, a sinner who had ranted and raved and yelled at Him, worthy in His eyes. His love is great enough to cover all my sins.

During my mid-twenties and just when I thought I had life under control, I was diagnosed with a stomach condition called gastroparesis. I was no longer healthy. I was weak and tired and sick as a dog. I didn't want to do anything or talk to anyone and even when I did I didn't have the energy to do it. It was during this time in my life that I picked up my Bible or at least my Bible app on my phone. I read the One Year Bible plans two years in a row.

During those two years I found myself drawing nearer to God. Even in my illness I could call on Him. No matter how bad I felt He was there waiting for me. When I felt alone and lost and too sick to call on anyone else God heard my prayers. He comforted my heart in a way no living person could.

My illness has been a blessing in disguise. Yup, you read that right... My gastroparesis changed my life drastically and I pretty much hate it, but it drew me nearer to God and my family than anything ever had. It made me realize how much I needed God daily. 

I still make stupid mistakes, sin, and skip church... more often than I would like to admit, but I know my Savior is always there. Through the valleys and hills in my life God is with me, loving me, strengthening, me and encouraging me all along the way. 

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Jeremiah 29:11 

Expectations

Kids have a lot of expectations about things. I know we all have expectations about how things will be, but sometimes I see it in my son's eyes and hear the disappointment in his voice when life does not meet his expectations.

Little Bear reads a lot. When he reads things he expects life to work exactly like what he read. The most recent example of this is our recent adventure into the world of Cub Scouts. A month or so ago school started sending out fliers about Cub Scouting registration night. The flier talked about camping, fishing, and all the fun trips Cub Scouts take.

What the flier did not talk about was meetings once a week where you sit and do activities and learn. Little Bear thought every time we went to Cub Scouts we would be doing some kind of amazing outdoor activity. He thought we would go and roast marshmallows and drink hot cocoa or something equally fun the first time we went. 

I had tried to explain to him that it would be a meeting with a table and chairs. We would memorize things, learn to tie knots and learn what we need to know for camping trips. No matter what I said Little Bear did not believe this. 

Well... I was correct. Little Bear was somewhat disappointed in this. We talked about the fun activities planned for later this month though so he was appeased. Little Bear was excited to see some of his best friends from school at Cub Scouts. 

His expectations of amazing things coming from Cub Scouts have not changed. He knows it will be wonderful. 

Remodeling - A Marital Test

If you want to test your marriage tackle a remodeling project. It will stress you and you either learn to work together or you quit.

I'm serious y'all. It has been a test of our ability to work together and to be nice. We are remodeling the bathroom. We did great with the light fixtures. Popeye did the wiring and putting the light fixtures up. I patched the sheetrock.

We did well when we pulled up the carpet and the tile. We worked together, got the old junk out. We patched the holes in the concrete well. He did one part I did another. Things were going great.

Then, we began the flooring. It is a pain in the butt. I had read the instructions and watched the tutorials online. Which made me the "expert." Poor Popeye did not agree with my expertise.

We did not agree on how to do it. We couldn't agree on which direction to lay the vinyl planks. Then we could not agree how long to make the first plank. It was a mess.

We got through the first section okay after a few minor disagreements. We only worked a couple of hours the first night. The second day we worked from 11am until 12:30am with only a few breaks.

We finally found a system that worked for us. After a few mistakes and a few arguments, we realized Popeye should measure and I should do some cuts and check Popeye's cuts before he made them not after. We both made a few mistakes and wasted some flooring.

As it got late Popeye and I started getting irritable and snapping at each other. It had been a long day. We needed a break, but we wanted to keep going. We had been hoping to finish by the end of the day. We did not. We finally realized for the sake of our marriage and our sanity working until 12:30am was too late.

We quit for the night and had a nice rest. We finished the next day. Our floors are laid down and now we tackle the next portion of the task, baseboards, and painting.

Divorce Was Not in My Plans

Looking for love in all the wrong places....

My best friend was a light in the dark during this time of heartache.

That was me as a young adult. I wanted to be in love and get married and live happily ever after, but I repeatedly found real losers. For a time I was married to one of those losers. My first marriage lasted less than two years. We were both miserable with each other. We were not good for each other at all. Looking back I see how little we had in common. When we got married I thought we had a lot in common... I didn't look hard enough at the important things. We agreed on very little, but we thought like all starry eyed kids do, that we could make it work. We were 21 and thought things would just go our way... They didn't.

My Family - Love - Support - Encouragement

When we got divorced I was devastated... It was not my choice, although I cannot say I had not thought about it. I would have stuck it out longer, not because I wanted to stay married and miserable, but because divorce was never in my plans. I was a good Christian girl from a family that had few divorces in its history. Divorce just wasn't the way I planned my life. I wanted things to work and be easy. I was not prepared for the harsh reality of marriage or marriage to the wrong person.

Marriage is hard. From the rubble and ruin of my first marriage, I learned a lot, about marriage and about myself.

• I am strong enough to survive. 
• God is with me, always. 
• Don't be fake. Lying to yourself about things you like does not make a good foundation for marriage.
• Be willing to compromise. 
• Don't give up the things that are most important to you, but be willing to share and talk about things. 
• I learned that I didn't need to be looking for love. I found love when I least expected it. 
• Communicate... I mean really communicate. 
• Letters, Talking, Email, Texting. Figure out what works for you and your spouse. 
• Make sure your core beliefs are the same or at least close enough that you are not losing what makes you who you are. 
• Keep your friends and family close. Having them close gives you a sounding board, free advice, support, and encouragement. 
• Listen to your friends and family. If they tell you the person you are dating or about to marry is bad for you, they most likely have a really good reason. 

Popeye, My Husband, who loves me even at my worst.

Since my divorce, I found love. I have been married for 8 years. I would not be the wife I am now if I had not been through the trials and hardship of my first marriage and divorce. Because of my divorce, I look at marriage with new eyes. I see things differently and I can appreciate things I would not have noticed before.


A little side note, I really struggled to write this post. After it was written I have struggled with posting it. It has been sitting here waiting to be posted for weeks. I showed it to my sweet Popeye last week and he gave me his blessing to share it, but I still have avoided posting it. I don't like to share this hard time of my life. I hope that someone else can learn from my mistakes. If you are there right now or have been there in the past, know I am praying for you. People love you and people care about you and your struggles. 

Bathroom Upgrades - Phase 1

Popeye and I are upgrading our bathrooms. We bought our house a couple of years ago and one of the first things I said we had to replace was the flooring in the bathrooms.

Bathroom Carpet and Tile

Our bathrooms have carpet in them. Yes, you read that right... CARPET. Who does that? I mean really, the bathroom is a damp environment. You wash your hands and accidentally drip on the floor. You get out of the shower and you drip on the floor. Gross, carpet in the bathroom is gross.

The area around the toilets has tile floors, but the tile is not cool. It is an ugly tile, that shows every single speck of dirt. Little Bears bathroom tiles have a crack across a couple. It is not tile that I would ever pick.

So, two weeks ago we ordered vinyl plank flooring at Home Depot. We were supposed to be able to pick it up on this past Friday. Sadly, Home Depot messed up our special order so when we went to get our flooring they said, "Oh we messed up your special order. We will have to place your order again." So, we have another week or so of waiting.

As part of our bathroom project, we are painting and replacing the light fixtures. We brought home four different samples of white paint this weekend. One of our projects this week is to paint a little bit of the wall and see which white we like best. This white will be carried throughout the house eventually.

One of our old light fixtures

Our vanity lights are light fixtures on steroids. They had 8 bright light bulbs each and this was way too much for the bathroom. We are replacing them with less bulky light fixtures that are the same color as the faucets and other fixtures.

We bought light fixtures today. When we came home to install them, we pulled the old ones down and found a mess. When they installed the lights they ran the electrical wires in front of a stud and behind the old light fixture. When they removed the sheetrock enough to do this, I think, they used a hammer. It looks like they just smashed the sheetrock back into the wall to get enough out of the way to get the wires where they needed to be. Well, this made a huge mess. I will be patching the uneven holes. Popeye will be fixing the wiring and installing the new light fixtures. I would assume the other two fixtures we are replacing will be much the same.

So... what began as an easy and quick project has now become a major project in more ways than one. While it may be a pain it will be well worth it when we finish.

A Magical Moment

We have all seen the homecoming videos where a dad comes home and surprises their kid at school in his uniform or a daughter comes home and surprises her parents at a party. I know I have watched more than I could possibly count and each time they bring tears to my eyes and on my emotional days they can be enough to make me cry, big crocodile tears.

Well, we had our own homecoming recently. Let me tell you something... the truth about homecomings is that they are not all rainbows and sunshine. They are stressful for everyone involved. The planning and the thought that goes into homecoming is ridiculous. The stress and uncertainty that homecomings bring is hard to describe unless you have been there. 

Little Bear and I had been anxiously awaiting homecoming. I had been dreaming of the magical day since before Popeye even left. I did not want him to leave and could hardly wait for his return. 

As the time got closer, I got nervous. For the almost two years we have lived here Popeye has been gone about two thirds of it. He has hardly lived in the house that has become our home and my comfort zone. Little Bear and I do nothing the same way as when Popeye left. Our routine is ours, with Popeye home we knew that would change. 

I was also nervous because I am a very different person than when Popeye left. I am more independent. I have friends, hobbies, and things to do that keep me busy. I didn't know if Popeye would like the new me. I still look the same, but I am different. Popeye was nervous, too, I think. Not that he would ever say it.

In the last few months before Popeye came home I planned the perfect outfit. We made yard signs and signs to take to homecoming. We cleaned house. We did yard work. We made plans for when he would be here in our home again.

And then NOT a thing went as planned. Homecoming ended up getting scheduled for the middle of the night. I did not wear the dress I bought for it. I wore jeans and a nice shirt. It was dark when he got home so our signs and yard decorations were not well lit. Little Bear ran around in the heat and got all gross and sweaty while we waited.

Even with all the things that went differently than we had hoped.... It was magic. It was our own kind of magic. I won the raffle for first kiss and Popeye was the first one off the plane. Seeing his smiling face was glorious. It made all the messed up plans and the stress and anxiety melt away. As we got to each other, that first hug was blissful. The first kiss... enchanting. Everything was in place. We were back to a family of three, just the way God meant for us to be. 

In the weeks since homecoming we have had frustration and arguments. Homecoming is not easy. We have all changed and grown. The adjustments have been difficult, but it is great. The magic has worn off and we are back to real life and trying to settle into a routine, but we are oh so grateful to be together again for a while. 

Photos by Fischelli Photography.