Soar

The mess in my head was a jumbled nest of worry and fear about our future.  I’ve let go of so many expectations over the years…but still, I sometimes grasp for the provisions we all seek.  I’m blinded by grief and stress.  I’m crumpled up with smallness.  I forget that we’ve always been okay…and we always will be...more than okay.

The only prayer I could squeeze out through the tears was
“Lord?  God?
I surrender.”
Then my mind was filled with the image of a soaring eagle.  White sunbeams shone through the wing tips as the bright blue of the sky smacked against the ruddy rocks of canyon beneath.

   

This kind of surrender isn’t unto a prison guard or under a heavy weight.  This is surrender to the gentle nudge that frees me from the nest and sends me toppling over the edge of a cliff…because that is where I find my wings. Though I’m still terrified, I’m reminded that I can soar.  The wind dries my tears and forces me to breathe.  I’m reminded that I can trust my wings and I can trust the air that holds them up.  Each time I soar, there is more trust.  Less fear.

I return to my nest…eventually…every time.  That’s the funny thing about this life.  The things that give me the greatest joy are sometimes the hardest things to maintain.  I often just don’t realize that trying-so-hard is the real heavy weight, it is the grasping that is true cage.  The surrender is the real freedom.  The paradox is the divine.  Faith turns what I think I know upside down; the steps often feel like they lead me to the edge of a cliff.  Because that is where I find my wings.  Sometimes the only answer we need is a new perspective.

Wishes

I can't really remember the first time I heard a genie story, but I do remember laying awake at night thinking through the possible scenarios that could arise if I were to come across such an ancient brass lamp that required my polishing skills.  Assuming I couldn't use my first wish to ask for infinity wishes, I narrowed down two of my three wishes to the ability to speak (and understand) every language and the ability (and talent) to play every instrument.  I haven't been able to pin down a third wish.  I guess the obvious choice would be unlimited wealth, though considering the awesomeness-that-would-be-me with my language and music abilities, I think I'd have that covered.  

The last time I was at the hospital, I had the sudden urge to find someone who was alone and just be with them.  I had a toddler with me and needed to get home to make supper, so I had to let the thought go...but the desire hasn't left me.  I'm not good at scheduling things.  I really only have energy to voluntarily leave my home a few times a month and maybe I'm missing the memos from the Energy Fairy, but I have no idea when that elusive energy will come.  Needless to say, joining a do-gooder group just isn't in the cards for me.  

I want this powerful freedom: to have a good day, get in my car and go...to be led to a place and have the clear discernment to know where I am needed.  I want to walk into the room, sit in the chair waiting for me next to the bed and hold the hand of the person who is dying (or dying inside) and let them know they are not alone.  Maybe I'd know exactly what they need to hear.  Maybe I'd know they just need someone to listen.  And then I'd go home.  That's the kind of super power I dream about.

My heart was built to trust and serve, but it is guarded and prone to strike if it perceives danger.  I want the insight to know whether a brat deserves the evil eye or maybe just needs a little attention and some kind words.  I want to know whether the person telling me way too much about their life in the check-out line is an emotional vampire or is actually reaching out to someone for the first time in months.  I want to instantly know the difference between the people who need my help and those whom I should avoid.  I want to know if the person sitting next to me in the waiting room needs someone to hold her hand and cry with her...or someone to tell him a joke and laugh with him.  I'm really good at both.

I was beginning to think that crystal clear discernment could be my third wish, but the more I thought about it, I began to realize this desire was actually the result of my fears.  I don't reach out to people because I worry what they will think.  I don't show my emotion in public (if I can help it) because it makes people uncomfortable.  I don't help the unfortunate because I am scared.  I want control in my life, and I'm afraid of risk.  I'm afraid of mess and sickness and other people's problems...because frankly, I'm just too tired.  I can barely deal with my own problems.  

There's nothing wrong with self-preservation or wanting to protect my family...but that is the cage that traps my heart who yearns for a mystical life of knowing and helping.  It is fear that keeps me from stepping out and fear that keeps me contained.  Fear and exhaustion.  I guess that's why I dream about the ability to step into someone's life, help, and quickly step out again.  Clean and easy.  The downside is that most of these situations might be issues that need to resolve themselves and my "help" would not actually be helpful in the long run.  Back to the drawing board.  I will certainly rue the day I find a genie lamp with this third wish question unresolved.  More likely, we live in a world where we have to find the answers to most things ourselves.  Perhaps it is not wishes we should ask for...we just have to keep asking questions.

Silent All These Years

I've been quiet.  For a non-stop-thinking person with many opinions and a burning desire to write, I've been quiet.  I've been eating documentaries and audiobooks...because reading books doesn't allow for multi-tasking.  I fold laundry and put away dishes with a constant editorial going on in the back of my mind.  Maybe this is why I'm tired all the time.  Maybe it's because I have four kids.  Maybe it's because I want answers.  I want to figure things out.  I want to know where we came from, and I want to know where we are going.  I want to know why our government if failing us, and why those who ask questions are labeled "conspiracy theorists" and discarded.  I want to know god.  I want to know the truth of reality...if there is a reality.

And so, I have been quiet, because many of those things are such that we cannot know.  We can speculate and blow wind, as it were.  I'm too tired for that.  But I'm also tired of being quiet.  There is a fine balance between speaking out because I feel so compelled and allowing my voice to be drowned out by fear.  It is ironic that a search for truth is something that can be feared, though that has been the case since the dawn of time.  We fear what we do not understand, which is much.

I revisited what I've written here over the years, and though I still struggle with some of the same things, I can see where I am now a stronger person.  I am still afraid of being misunderstood and disliked.  I really do just want everyone to get along.  I read somewhere that the only way to avoid criticism is to say nothing, do nothing, be nothing (Aristotle?).  That's just not an option for me.  In the past, I understood that fear was something to avoid; now I see it as a symptom of something that needs to be addressed. There are some things we should certainly just keep to ourselves, but there are other things rattling around in my head begging to get out.  My hope is that I may help or inspire someone; my fear is that I will be judged and discarded.  It is funny how we are so wrapped up in our experiences, dying with anxiety about the prospect of singing a karaoke song...meanwhile everyone at the bar really doesn't really give a shit what you do.  Our spirit is a kite that should fly free, guided by just one string....but we allow hundreds of other strings to tangle and misdirect us.  Snip snip snip, I say.

Eulogy For Dad

Dad's Memorial Service Sept. 5, 2014

Preparing my words for you today has taken me down many paths.  Each direction has been necessary to give me the perspective I needed to help me heal and begin to process my grief.  I hope my words are a blessing to some of you as well.

The unexpected death of my father arrived with a brutal posse:  anger, resentment, despair, and a very nasty riddler.  There is no competition in grief, but the grief that we-orphans-of-this-type-of-death carry, while perhaps no heavier, is definitely unbalanced and more awkward to carry. 

I’ve known for a long time that my dad had a problem, but he was taking medication and seeking help, so I never expected that this would be the cause of his death. Regardless of what illness a person suffers, sometimes even the best doctors and the most effective medicines just can’t help.  I think this was the case with my dad; it was just his time. 

I am glad it happened among his trees with the sun shining on his face.

As a mother of 4, my first reaction to my father’s death was:  How do I protect my children?  How do I help their hearts cope with the loss of their grandpa?  Eventually, the answer came:  Information shall be revealed on a security clearance basis…based on age and rank.  Not everyone needs to know everything right away.

But also…All important matters of the heart can only be learned and never taught.  I can only confirm those truths that are already in my children’s hearts.  I am to be their safe place….the safety net for THEIR trapeze act, for I cannot do the flips of life for them, nor can I hold their hands as they reach for the oncoming bars.  I must strengthen and hold myself together to cushion the blow for the days my children will need to fall on me.

For myself, I had a lot of questions.  I wanted to try to explain a lot of things.   My inner social scientist wanted to compare and contrast.  However, a dear gentle friend helped me to see how just foolish it would be to try to explain something of which I have absolutely no knowledge…that seeking that path is something of which I have absolutely no right.  Many of the questions I have will never be answered…and I have the proper fear of God to bow my head, tuck my tail, and walk away from that sacred ground.  There are certain paths that will only burn your feet and never soothe your head.

So, let me talk to you about what I know.  I know about Love and Thankfulness. 

There are many things I don’t understand about my dad and his death, but here is what I do know:  whatever capacity he had for love, he loved me with all that he had and for that, I am thankful. 

Our relationship was not always easy.  There was a time that I could hardly stand to be in the same room with him.  But he chose to love me and he persevered.  My mom pointed him in the right direction.  He learned skills from recovery groups and from observing good men like my grandpa and uncles.  But no one could force him to love me.  True, real love is a choice.  My dad’s love for me was an effort only he could make. 

And I know it wasn’t easy for him at first.  I was hurt and bitter…and sarcastic. 

But he gave me time and he didn’t give up.  And my mom fought to keep the brambles at bay so the path that joined us would stay clear.  She is a warrior, with a strong heart.

The next part in this love story is mine.  I had to allow him to love me.  I had to forgive.  It took a long time and it wasn’t easy…becoming a mother softened my heart.  Grandchildren are miracles for those who have eyes to see.  Eventually, I found that I could have regular conversations with my dad and that I wanted him to be proud of me…and that I loved him. 

My dad used every opportunity he had to tell me that he loved me and that I am amazing.  As both a parent and a child, I know this is something that can’t be said too often.

The last time I invited my dad over, just a few days before his death, I was able to tell him how much I appreciate him for not giving up on loving me.  I told him that I accept him for who he is, that I don’t expect him to be any more than he is, and that I love him. 

I told him all the things that I needed to tell him in this life. 

I know this was a miracle of closure for my heart…a miracle of which I am so thankful.  And that’s the reason this can be well with my soul.  I don’t like this death, but I have faith that there is deeper magic at work…and above all else…I choose love.

For that, I am thankful.

How My Gay Sister Saved Me

I used to have a very tidy worldview.  In fact, I wrote a 5-page paper about it back when I was going to Bible college.  It was a very easy paper for me to write...because that was back when I knew everything.

I was raised in a Christian family, but I was taught to think for myself.  I've always considered myself to be open to new ideas, so I was quite blindsided when I realized how small my world really was.  I was dependent on our church to "feed" me and I thought I was growing closer to god by pulling away from the "world".  I was a good little church-going housewife and mother.  That was enough for me.

Except.  I missed my sister.

Like a lot of American Christians, I believed that homosexuality is wrong.  How could I not?  I mean, it's right there in the Bible, right?  I also believed that I should "love the sinner, but hate the sin."  You have to admit, it is a catchy slogan.  I had some friends who are gay, and I loved them (still do), but there was always an underlying feeling that there was something wrong with them.  I would pray for them to change and turn from their "lifestyle."  I am embarrassed to admit this.  Bear with me.

It wasn't really a problem for me to follow along with my church's teachings about homosexuality because, honestly, it didn't really personally affect me.  Not until my sister came out.

There were other elements at fault, but the main reason my relationship with my sister became strained was because I couldn't accept that she is a lesbian.  I was very uncomfortable.  (And now in hindsight, I know that she also spent many years being uncomfortable before accepting who she is.)  Years of missteps and misunderstanding frayed the thread that held us together.  The girl who was once my best friend was becoming a woman that I didn't really know.

Religious folks will often tell you to separate yourself from people who will "lead you astray."  Jesus told us to befriend them.  And I've learned you really can't be someone's (true) friend if you don't accept them for who they are.....or if you have ulterior motives like praying for them to change or trying to get them to come to church (and change).

Slowly, my world began to grow.  Again, there were many factors at work.  My solid worldview walls were crumbling from the inside.  Eventually, I began hearing warning bells at every church service I attended; and not just concerning the topic of homosexuality.  In a religion of "grace," there sure is a lot of talk about what we have to DO.  See, grace is free.  That's what makes it grace.  There is NOTHING we can do to earn it.  There is really nothing more that can be said about it.  How pastors can squeeze hours worth of sermons out of it baffles me.  The majority start out quite well: the fact...the honor...the gift of grace is laid out.  But then there is the BUT:  BUT we have to do good works.  BUT we have to tithe.  BUT we have to feel guilty if we don't go to church every week...
I left. (and yes, I did feel guilty for quite awhile)

At this point, I'm sure some would say that leaving the church is what sent me on the road to corrupt thinking and crazy things like supporting human rights.  To be honest, there was a time that I had no idea what to think.  Some may say I lost my faith, but I have always had absolute faith in Love.  I no longer have faith in the god that I thought I grew up with, though I have become reacquainted with the God of my heart.  God is love, the universe, inside the universe, outside the universe, in me, in others.  He/she/it reveals love and truth by any means possible, often in the most surprising ways.  I don't quite understand it all (and I currently avoid anyone who claims to), but I yearn for the grace that Jesus gave others.  My new faith is tentative as I am slowly separating what I was taught from what I truly believe, but reading about Jesus' interactions with people makes me want to be like him.  The grace that I have received makes me want to give grace to others.  I want to live in love, each day its own journey, with freedom from performance guilt and fear.  I am definitely going to make mistakes, but it is often those mistakes that teach us the most about ourselves...and reveal our true friends.

My sister saved me from my small world because she forced me to think anew.

A closing metaphor, if you will:
In the great grand scheme of things, does it really matter WHY a one-armed man only has one arm?  Regardless of what happened in the past, he has one arm and nothing can change that.  Whether he was born that way, formed that way, or even chose to be that way, he still deserves to be at peace within himself.  He deserves the right to not have to explain himself to anyone else, he deserves to be loved, and he deserves the same rights that every other human has.  He is not a second-class citizen.  In fact, he is extremely skilled with his one arm, lives a vibrant life, and has true friends who do not judge him.  What some may see as a handicap has been overcome.

NO person who truly follows Christ will EVER stand in the way of anyone's ability to overcome.

Bunk Bed Sheets

I finally got around to altering my son's sheets to fit his bunk bed better...and make it easier for me to change.  At first, I thought about attaching the top sheet to the bottom, but I didn't think that would be the best when it came time to wash them.  I just wanted a fitted top sheet.  I looked all over Google-land and couldn't find anything like this, so I took matters into my own hands.  Here's what I did:

1.  Measure.  Here's the math:
sheet width - bed width = x
divide x by 2 = amount to cut off each side
In my case, the sheet was about 62", the bed about 35".  (It's better to make the bed width on the wide side  for seam allowance.) So, I needed to remove 13.5" off each side.

2. Next, cut a square that size off each bottom corner.  Yeah, I'm not messing around with ironing.

3.  Sew.  Fold the cut edges together to form the bottom corners of the sheet.  I used a very lazy, non-precise, no-iron French seam.

4.  Attach elastic to the bottom.  I used some 1/2" elastic I already had.  I didn't even measure.  I just started on one corner and zig-zagged across to the other side. 

Stretch the elastic as you sew and it will gather the fabric when it's finished.  I cut the excess elastic off when I was finished.

It's hard to get a picture of the finished product, but basically it's just a sheet with a fitted bottom and regular top.  Perfect for staying tight on a bunk bed.

I like this so much, I was thinking about doing this for my own bed.  However, it would probably be too tight at the foot for adults.  A kid's bed where the bottom 2 or 3 feet of the bed is basically unused is a different story.

I decided to alter the comforter as well.  I was a little intimidated since there is more to wrestle with a comforter compared to a sheet, but I got this one at a resale shop and it's cheap enough to experiment on. 

Luckily, it turned out great!  I did basically the same thing as the sheet, but pulled a few inches of the batting/stuffing away from the seams.  I had to use a little extra care to make sure I had all the layers aligned when I sewed the corners.

 One area is a little less sloppy in my house!  Totally worth it.  And yes, it was SOOOO much easier to get the sheets on this way.  I am pleased.

Vegan Waffles

My son is allergic to milk and eggs, so when I got a waffle maker from our family white elephant exchange, I started working on a waffle recipe.  After a few tweaks, I came up with a recipe that I love...

3 tsp.  Ener-G Egg Replacer
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup oil
1 3/4 cup soy milk (I use 8th Continent Original)
1 T sugar (I use sucanat)
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt

With a wire whisk, beat the egg replacer and water together until frothy.
Add oil, soy milk, and sugar.  Beat.
Add flours, baking powder, and salt.  Mix well, but not too much.  Let it sit while the waffle iron heats up.
I use a ladle to spoon the batter onto my waffle iron (sprayed with oil).  I set the timer for 4 minutes and they turn out perfectly every time.  I'm sure different waffle makers have different settings, so you may need to experiment with the time and amount of batter.  Watch for the steam to finish, that's when the waffle is finished cooking.
Makes about 6 waffles.

My non-allergic kids couldn't tell that these waffles are "different". I like to keep the extras in the fridge and I reheat them on the waffle iron for about a minute.

I added a handful of small dried blueberries to my last batch and they turned out great.  I love waffles topped with yogurt, fruit, and agave/maple syrup.  I think that's what I'll have for lunch today!

4/3/2012

I haven't written in a long time because I go through periods where I just don't feel like I have anything worthy to say.  I consider deleting my blog altogether.  I doubt myself and my thoughts.  I think I sometimes get so tired of everything, I just withdraw.

My household has been sick for the last 2 months.  Maybe 3.  3 months with at least one out of six people sick.  I'm tired.  The problem is:  it's always something.  Life never slows down.  If everyone is healthy, the car breaks down.  If the cars are running well, the plumbing is leaking.  I realized that the way I was living assumed that things would get better.  They aren't.  I'm not being pessimistic here.  I'm realizing that I need to be more proactive.

I think I have a problem with comparing my life to others'.  The caveat in this is that we hardly ever see a person's "real" life, so how can we really compare?  It seems to me that everyone else has better health, more energy, better social skills, and more sanity.  Meanwhile, my feelings of facepalm about other people's choices coexist with feelings of insecurity about my own choices.  In my yearning to not be "wrong" I can feel both ends of the spectrum at the same time, and it tears me apart sometimes.  I wish I cared less and therefore hurt less.  And I wish I loved more and therefore hurt less.

This unpolished stream of consciousness is all I have to offer.  The perfectionist slice of my internal pie chart would delete this because it kills me to be misunderstood.  But there's another piece of pie that just has to get some of this out.

We're So Advanced! Really?

I just got home from seeing the movie The Help with some girlfriends.  This actually has nothing to do with the movie (which was really good and I highly recommend it!) but it just got me thinking...what will the movies 50 years from now reveal about our lives?  What things accepted as "normal" in society now will seem horrendous to our grandchildren? 

The Help (based on a book by the same title) is about black maids telling their stories about working for white southern women.  Treating someone like a servant (or slave) is totally foreign to me, but I can't help but wonder what I would really think if I had been raised that way.  I would never treat someone as less than an equal, would I?  Do I treat all my neighbors on this planet the way I would like to be treated?  It's appalling to look back into history to see how (some) white people treated (some) black people.  It feels like slavery and segregation are some archaic mistakes that don't affect us anymore, but the sad truth is that it is all relatively recent history!  Even more sad, slavery isn't dead.  It just has a different face.

I'm thinking about all the plastic crap that is made in China.  (I'm also thinking about all the other disgusting faces of current slavery that will haunt me if I spend too much time thinking about them.)  So, I'm going to stick to slavery I support, however reluctantly.  Buying cheap things made in cheap factories for cheap prices isn't worth the money "saved".  There are SOULS working in factories, getting grossly underpaid and overworked just to save us a dime.  When I take a moment to think about WHO made the majority of the THINGS I'd like to buy....well, I realize I want less.  I'll be honest, this is hard.  I like stuff and I don't have a lot of money.  I probably will get my kids a Happy Meal toy here and there.  The computer I'm typing on now was probably pieced together by starving children for all I know.  I would have to go without a lot of stuff if I truly wanted to avoid supporting slavery.  How do I find balance in this?  If I buy Fair Trade the rest of my life, will that even make a difference?

I don't have the answers.  And this is only one example.
It's much easier to judge the cruelty of past generations.

Dreams and Idiots

I had a dream last night:  I was rushing to catch a bus...or was I rushing through an airport?   Maybe both.  I was "driving" a wheelchair with my one-year-old on my lap, one hand on the wheel and one arm struggling to keep him from falling off my lap.  It seems there were constant ramps making the wheelchair speed faster and faster.  Just when I thought I'd lose control, I'd skid to a spot where I could put my feet down just long enough to catch a little balance before the next decline.  Sounds exactly like a metaphor for my reality!

When I finally reached the terminal (the wheelchair and baby had left the scene), I tripped and whacked my leg on a railing or something.  As I was "rubbing it out" like my grandma taught me, I noticed rows and rows of people watching me, snickering.  After all I had been through, my desire to be polite was non-existent...so I yelled, "What are you laughing at, you IDIOTS!!?  I hope it hurts REALLY bad the next time you smack yourself...and you WILL!!"

I'd have to say this dream was spot on.  I am getting to the point in my life where I'm tired of wasting energy on people who simply don't deserve it.  I fully intend to stop trying to win the affection of people who just don't like me and face the fact that there are some people that I don't like...and I am better off just staying away from them.  Please don't misunderstand me.  I am referring to the type of people who will listen to your hardships, but inwardly snicker and judge.  I am referring to the type of people who just don't understand and don't care to take the time to understand.  I just don't have energy for them.

And therein lies the one of the many duplicities of human life.  My heart is full of love one moment and I'm ready to kick an idiot in the shin the next.

Thankfulness

When I am thankful, I am at peace, I am content, I am in touch with the joy that is always around me (but is hard to see sometimes).  When I am thankful, I notice all the little blessings.  I am centered.  It's a good feeling. Gratitude is one of my favorite emotions.


We recently had a violent thunderstorm in our city.  Seemingly strong trees look like they were pulled out of the ground, roots and all.  Houses were smashed and power lines were yanked.  We were without electricity for 3 nights.  But our roof was safe.  And our basement didn't flood.  These are things I am VERY thankful for.

I packed up my four kids and stayed at my mom and dad's house for a couple nights.  My parents have a very small home, but large love.  It was strange to see my childhood home with adult eyes...to use a cereal bowl that I used for many years in the mornings before school, but now feels foreign to me.  It was refreshing to be reminded just how small the bedroom is that I shared with my sister when we were kids.  Refreshing...because I sometimes feel worried that my kids' rooms are too small.  I sometimes worry that I am a bad parent for not providing "bigger, better, and more" for my children.  There are times that my heart squeezes when I have to say "no".  There is a bittersweet sting when my daughter offers her piggy bank to buy us more food.  It is too tempting to focus on all the things we do not have.  But I know this kind of thinking is pure folly, because we have SO MUCH.

While we fled to air conditioning in the hot weather, my husband stayed at home to work on clearing the fallen branches and broken trees in our yard.  Regardless of how many hard times we have gone through and will most likely go through in the future...I am so thankful for him.  It is good for my wifely soul to see my husband with chainsaw in hand, fighting against the elements.  I am thankful to have a partner with skills and kind eyes that will outlive our youth. The years have taught me that my husband is definitely the first one I'd pick to be on my team.  And for that, I am thankful.

Once the power came back on and we were all settled back at home, my husband and I were exhausted.  Being away from home takes its toll on me.  I love my own bed.  Even more, I love my children all in their own beds.  I like to be surrounded by things that are familiar to me.  There was so much work to catch up on, it felt like we were gone for a month.  I had my dishwasher, washing machine, and clothes dryer making up for lost time.  Yes, I am fully aware how dependent I am on modern inventions; I will shamelessly admit it.  And I am extremely thankful for them. 

I am always mindful of that fact that we are "rich" simply because we have running water.  Little hardships shake me up and let my thankfulness float to the surface.  Our power outage was a mere irritation when compared to the atrocities happening around the world this very second.  Sometimes my global empathy swells up and cripples me with tears, but it certainly keeps me...you guessed it...thankful for my life.  It is a raw kind of happiness, because I know how much worse things could be.  It is an emotion of action because it drives me to make the best of what I have, to improve it within my means.  It makes me want to love others and live vibrantly.

Thankfulness has served me well over the years.

I know my children will "suffer" from wants not met, dreams not reached, hardships unnumbered...just as I did.  And though my mother-heart wants to protect them from all hurt, I guess I just have to hope that they will learn a lifestyle of thankfulness and add depth to their souls.  So, it's okay to say "no" when my son asks me to buy a new LEGO set.  And an extra delight when I can say "yes".

A perfect life is not a breeding ground for thankfulness.

Movin on out

(I started this a couple weeks ago)
We're supposed to move at the end of this month!  It almost feels like this is really going to happen, but I still feel like I'm living in the shadows of a dream.  The picture is becoming clearer with each box packed and each big decision behind us.  We came to many conclusions last month and I'm glad those sleepless nights are behind us.  Sure, there are certainly more sleepless nights ahead, but those ones have passed!  I feel like there is light at the end of the tunnel.  Or to be less trite, perhaps a placid lake at the end of this waterfall?  Hmm.

One of the biggest decisions we faced was what we should do about the duplex we currently live in.  The result has me at peace and has taught me something about balance that I am only beginning to comprehend.  Our first instinct was to sell and minimize our responsibilities.  We have four kids, we know all about responsibilities.  It would be nice to bear a lighter yoke.  An opportunity to sell didn't work out the way we thought it would, but this wouldn't be the first time.  We've come close to selling FOUR times now!  Each time we thought we were on the road to Easy(er) Street, we were met with some irritating road block.  It seems we were meant to keep this place.
(And that's where I stopped because I ran out of time to write.)

Now it's later in the month and all I can say is I'm glad I was at peace about keeping our duplex...because it looks like we'll be living here longer than we expected.  It was another hard decision, and yes, it involved more sleepless nights, but we realized we'd be making a mistake if we moved at this time.  The last couple weeks were pretty hard.  I don't change direction very quickly, so it felt like whiplash (again) to change direction like that.  I was packing and preparing everything in my mind, thinking about where all the furniture would go.  I was starting to make all the arrangements involved with moving.  Then, stop. Reverse.  UNpack.

Life is funny.  Because it's better to laugh than to cry.  Sometimes.

Now, there is an upside to this story.  I haven't put much energy into "settling in" here in the last year or so.  We were busy remodeling the basement to make another bedroom in preparation for Baby #4.  Then, last winter, we were offered the chance to move, so I started letting things slip.  Pictures need to be hung, rooms need new colors painted, and my kitchen is badly in need of reorganizing. I am overwhelmed by all the work that needs to be done, but at the same time I enjoy having purpose.  Goals.  I like thinking of ways to make things function and flow better.  There is only so much I can do with my tiny home, but I do enjoy a challenge! Though I do hope for a bigger house some day in the future, I am so thankful for what we have.

I think a part of me knew we wouldn't be moving.  It just never felt "real".  Looking back, I think I've had that feeling before.  I'd like to recognize it better in the future.  It may save me a lot of unnecessary packing.  And unpacking.  Both literally and metaphorically.

Turkey 3 Days: Turkey Gravy and Spuds

I love this easy comfort food.

First step:  First Day Crock Pot Turkey

Second step:  Make Gravy

Third step:  Add pre-cooked turkey

Serve over mashed potatoes.

How to Make Gravy

There are probably oodles of ways to make gravy, but this is how I do it!

The formula to remember is 1/4 cup butter, 1/4 cup flour, 2 cups broth.

In a pot over medium heat, melt about 4 T butter.  Add 1/4 cup flour, whisk to mix thoroughly.  When it just begins to brown, add the broth.  If I don't have broth, I use water and bouillon (like Superior Touch's Better Than Bouillon). 

I like to add some garlic, parsley, and poultry seasoning or rosemary for turkey/chicken gravy.  I like garlic, pepper, and savory for beef.  Sometimes, I just like it very plain.  Use what you like!  Continue to whisk.

Heat to a boil, simmer until it thickens.  It will thicken more when removed from heat.

My family ate this before I could get a picture of the final product.  I have a brood of gravy lovers!

Turkey 3 Days: Turkey Noodle Soup

 First step:  Turkey 3 Days: First day crock pot Turkey

Start with the broth you already made.  Skim the hardened fat off the top.  The stock may be like Jell-O, which is actually a good thing, as gross as it may seem.  (Did you know gelatin comes from bones?  Now you do!)

 Chop your veggies.  I like onions, carrots, celery and a little garlic. (I chopped them fairly fine this time as a ploy to make it harder for the kids to pick them out!)  I drizzle a little olive oil in the pot I will use for the soup, and add veggies once the oil is hot.  Stir fry until the veggies just start to soften.  I go by smell.  It's ready when it starts smelling good! 

Then, dump your stock into the pot and add water.  I have a 6-quart pot, so I fill it up to about 2 inches from the top.  Once the broth is heated, I toss in some dried parsley, a few shakes of poultry seasoning or Mrs. Dash or both, a pinch of nutmeg, and salt and pepper.  If the flavor isn't quite right, I'll also add a spoonful of chicken base (I like Superior Touch's Better Than Bouillon).

Once the veggies are nearly fully cooked, turn up the heat, boil, and add noodles to cook a couple minutes less than the box tells you to (they will continue cooking in the pot).  My favorite noodles are nice fat "homemade" egg noodles or Kluski noodles; however, Second Son is allergic to eggs, so I have switched to regular pasta.  Last, turn the stove off, and add the turkey meat you boiled previously.  It is already cooked, so it just needs to get heated and will also help to cool down the soup.  

Yum!

Next up: Turkey Gravy and Spuds

Trapped

How did I start the year so optimistically and end up feeling so crappy now?

That's the thought that came to me in the shower this morning.

I think a big part of the answer is: hormones.  I've always had issues with my "cycle" which is one of the many reasons I've been pregnant so many times.  My body is happier being pregnant.  It's certainly not more comfortable, but it beats my "normal" cycle of pain and I have WAY less migraines.  Pregnancy must supply a steady flow of the right hormones.  Maybe it's just easier to bear the uncomfortableness of pregnancy because it's for a great purpose.  I don't know.

It's been almost a year since the birth of my fourth child, and it occurs to me that this is usually about the time that I would be thinking about getting pregnant again.  But we are done having children.  I won't get off that "easy" this time.

Another big part of the answer is: stress.  Everyone has stress.  I'm not saying I am special in this regard.  But everyone has a different threshold of what they can handle.  I think I'm at max-capacity again.  My elevator will not leave ground level without breaking some cables.
We experienced life-changing upheaval a few years ago and I was just starting to get my head above water.  Then everything changed again.  It felt like everything we had been working toward was in vain.  There was no more light at the end of the tunnel.  No more hope for better stability in the future.  My husband's career path is again unknown.  I am fortunate that my husband is a hard worker and determined to provide for us.  I have great respect for and faith in him.  The last few years have strengthened that.  I don't fear like I did years ago; I know from experience that God provides.  Yet, it's hard for me to change directions.  I get mental whiplash quite easily.

So, let's throw in another element:  we're moving.  More specifically, we're moving to a bigger house.  So I should be happy, right?  I'm about half happy.  The other half of me is recoiling.  We will be tenants for the first time in our married life, and we will have to find tenants to rent the house we currently live in. There are school districts to change, utilities to transfer, and I will miss my neighborhood.  It all has me a little uneasy.  I like what is familiar to me.  I prefer to stay within the boundaries of my own little kingdom.  And I really don't like packing.  And did I mention that we'll be renting from my in-laws?

So.  Those are the major things, piled on top of the day-to-day things.  Too many choices, too many things to do, too much pain.  I had a migraine the other day that sucked the life out of me and left me clinging to the couch waiting for my already over-worked husband to come home.  These are the days that I feel like a bad mom and wife.  These kind of days make me feel like I will never accomplish anything.  These days press down on me and make it hard to breathe.  Where do I go from here?

Getting help is almost as discouraging as the pain itself.  I feel trapped.  Making healthy choices is much easier when you are healthy.  But trying is always better than giving up.  So, here I go, one step at a time.

Turkey 3 Days: First day crock pot

This is my most recent lifesaver.  Turkey Breast.  Supper for 3 (not necessarily consecutive) days.  Hallelujah!

Day One
Crock Pot Turkey Breast
Step one starts at the grocery store.  This is important: make sure the turkey breast you buy will fit in your crock pot!

I usually let the turkey thaw in the fridge for a night or two.  Sometimes three.  Once, I totally forgot about thawing it and put it in the sink with cold water to thaw.  That worked okay, but forethought works a lot better.  There is usually a big flap of fat on the end, I cut that off.  The brand I buy comes with a gravy packet, which I don't use.  Read the list of ingredients and you be the judge.

Pop that turkey in your slow cooker, slather on some garlic and rosemary (or poultry seasoning), salt and pepper, and a sprinkling of brown sugar.  Cook on low for about 5-6 hours.  Your crock pot may be different than mine, so keep an eye on it.

I usually make a pilaf or nuke some "baked" potatoes, add a veggie, and there's supper!  Now, a little more work...

My family eats a little less than one half.  Once I cut off the amount we will eat that night, I return the turkey to the crock, power off, until after we are done eating.  Then, after supper, I remove the other half of the meat, cut into pieces, and contain for later.  Then the bones and hard-to-remove-meat go back in the pot.  Add water to cover, add a couple allspice balls, maybe a bay leaf, and let it go a couple hours on high.

Once the kids are out of my hair, preferably sleeping, I can remove the meat (it will fall off the bones) and strain the broth.  Reserve the meat for your next meal. This whole process can get messy, but if you do it right, you will have such nice soft hands.  Ha ha, you'll see what I mean when you try it!  Put the broth in the fridge overnight.  The fat will float to the top and harden, so it will be easy to remove later.

So, now all the hard stuff is done.  Free sailing for two more days!  Well, kinda.

Up next:  Turkey Noodle Soup
or Turkey Gravy and spuds

Frustration

I am frustrated.  And exhausted.  And questioning my value.  I think that last thing is probably the worst.  I know I don't always feel like this, and I know there is hope, but it's harder to see right now under the weight of all the things that are piling up on me.

It's hard for me to admit that I may be less than what I want to be.  I guess that's why I'm writing this. If there's someone else out there who feels the same way, you are not alone.  And if putting my feelings into words will help me, maybe it's a starting point.  I am pulled in all directions and don't know where to start.  Or maybe I know more than I should.  It's all overwhelming.  And frustrating.

Easter Story

Once upon a time, actually before time existed, there was God.  He is not human, not male, not female...yet He is Mother and Father, God and Goddess.  Actually, He is not a "he" but IT just doesn't sound very nice.
Rather than He or She, God is I AM.  God is Spirit, Parent, Word, Love.

By nature, God is driven to create.  Our world is his masterpiece.  (Perhaps not his only masterpiece, but that is another story.)  By nature, God is driven to LOVE, but love is meaningless without someone to love. 

"Let's create some wonderful critters that I can love!" God stage-whispers to himself.  "Better yet, let's make them creative and loving...just like me!  Let's make a beautiful world for them to enjoy.  Let's make them masters of their own hearts...and let's allow them to love me in return...because I AM LOVE...and that is what will make them most happy."
Enter humans,
with great potential to love and be loved.

Now, if you have ever loved, you know that love has risks, love goes beyond reason, love perseveres no matter the cost...and love is absolutely wonderful.  When we love, we become our best, we become what we are meant to be.  God could have created us without choice, just drones that follow his will.  But he wanted us to enjoy the wild adventure, the ups and downs, the beautiful offset by the tragic, the glory of light in contrast to the depravity of darkness.
Enter evil,
the opposite of love.

"Wait a minute! Are you saying God created Evil!?" the audience protests.  Tomatoes are thrown onto the stage.

Whether he created it or simply allowed it, it would not be in our world if God didn't want it to be...if it did not somehow serve a greater purpose.  Is it not hardship that draws a family close?  Is it not death that makes us consider our souls?  Is it not an enemy who shows us our true friends?  Is it not pain that leads us to healing?  This wild adventure is not tame, there are roses with thorns.  Evil is not something that slithered into the world when God wasn't looking.  God was not taken by surprise when Eve bit into the forbidden fruit.  His plan was set into motion from the very beginning.  He knew all that would happen, and he knew it would all be worth it in the end.
Because Love perseveres no matter the cost.

And so, time passes, and humans thrive with truth and love written on their hearts, and humans thrive without  truth and love.  Families grow and prosper, armies grow and destroy.  Hearts are blossomed and hearts are hardened.  And God is still not surprised.  But yet, he waits.  Why bother inventing time if not for history to reveal its truth?  History has revealed that humans need God, because they need love, because God is love.  That's it.  So simple.  Perhaps too simple for some.  Simplicity is not marketable.  Simplicity has no hierarchy.  Simplicity doesn't say "I'm in and you're out."
Enter religion.

Religion is living by rules rather than by love. But love has no boundary lines and doesn't play by the rules.  Setting rules on love kills it.  Keeping love caged with law kills it.  Like evil, religion is a tool that God may use to reveal truth, but not an end to itself.  Truth transcends religion, truth and love is true where ever it is found, even in the blackest pit or the highest steeple.
So, what about Jesus?

Jesus is God as a human, sent to show us the way.  God with a body, sent as a sacrifice.  Jesus taught with authority, he healed the sick, made the lame walk, the blind see.  He got really riled up around the religious people.  Actually, they were the only ones that really ticked him off.  Not the prostitutes or tax collectors or lepers.  Not the guys who cut a freaking HOLE in the roof to lower their crippled friend down in the middle of Jesus' teaching.  Not the Samaritan woman who was known for sleeping around.  Not the people who followed him around mostly looking for another meal.  Not even Judas, who sold him out.

No.  It was the religious folk who just didn't get it.  It was the religious tables that Jesus flipped.  They were expecting a king, and Jesus washed feet.  They were expecting to be rewarded for keeping the rules and Jesus said it is more important to love.  They were expecting to be set free from Roman rule, and Jesus taught that the Kingdom of God is in our hearts.
And so, the religious people killed him.
And God was not surprised.
This was his plan all along.

And then...
Jesus conquered death.  He rose to life from the grave.  And he changed the world.

I don't begin to fully understand this plan.  But, for some reason, this is how we know what love is (and therefore who God is): Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. He didn't come to start a new religion, but to set us free.  He came to set EVERYONE free.  The religious people will tell you that you need to join a certain group or say certain words for this to be true.  But when it comes to the great truths of the world, they are true always for everyone.  Like gravity.  It's not true only for those who believe it.  It is just plain true.  Simple.
But why should we believe if it doesn't matter whether we believe or not?

I'm NOT saying belief doesn't matter!  I'm saying that our restoration doesn't hinge on ANYTHING we can DO.  But belief changes our perspective.  Believing in and following Jesus' teachings changes our life.  He doesn't change us because he can't stand us, or because he has some "holier than thou" attitude (though, if anyone should, I guess it'd be God!)...He changes us, he grows our hearts, he rounds our sharp corners, he shows us joy, he strengthens us through hardships, he IS....so that we may LIVE and live the best life possible!  Because humans are most fulfilled when living free and living loved!  This is the GOOD NEWS that I can't keep to myself.

Sin

Words are important to me because they are the key to good communication, which is also very important to me.  Words can be destructive, enlightening, beautiful, grotesque.  Some words have an emotional definition beyond the textbook meaning.  They can make us angry or lift us up.  How can such seemingly small things have so much power?

The word that has been on my mind a lot lately is SIN.  Humor me and take a moment to think and feel what that word means to you.  I think it makes some people angry, guilty, defensive.  Can you define it?  I think most people would agree that whatever sin is, God does not like it.  I also think most people define sin as a verb (things we do).  I'm beginning to think it is a noun.  It is a concept, it is a thing, a condition.  It is our self-destructive nature.  It is what causes us to make bad decisions.  It is also deceptive.  It can seem like a good idea at the time.  But it always leads to destruction.

And that is why God doesn't like it.  Not because we let him down or because he is repulsed by us.  Not because sin is something we need to be punished for, but rather we need a cure, a protection from it.
He hates sin because it hurts us.
I think that's a huge point a lot of people miss.
Such a small word,
with a huge definition,
that can shape entire belief systems,
usually in the wrong way, it seems.