Hope. Pray. Love.

The Cloth I Am Cut From

2010-03-04T13:26:00.003-07:00

I awoke this morning to find an email from my mother in my inbox. Normal people with normal lives would think nothing of this. In my very abnormal life, this was an email from a woman who I had not spoken to in many years. A woman who has only offered me heartache and grief. Not a mother. Not my mother. At least not the mother I had always prayed for.

Dear Tammy,

I am writing this letter to you because I need to get past some things I have done and forgive myself once and for all for my inability to care for you and for giving you up for adoption. I am in therapy, and my therapist thinks this is where I should start. I agree with her. I don't expect a response from you, I just need to write this letter. I would have written it on paper and sent it ( a bit more personal I think), but I don't have your address. I’ve been carrying this heavy bag of guilt for what happened with you and other events in my life too long and it’s causing me to have emotional issues, so here goes.

When I was a teenager, I heard that my mother was going to have an abortion when she got pregnant with me. I thought long and hard about what it would have meant if she had the abortion. As a result, when I got pregnant with you, against your father's wishes and offer to pay, I did not have an abortion. All I really knew was that I was not going to have an abortion - I did not think about any other consequences.

When you were born, I was amazed, but I don't really feel like I bonded with you. That is not my fault or yours. I tried to be a mother, but I guess it wasn't really in me. I wanted to be your mother, the best mother a daughter could have. I was not, I could not. I even went to a class where they teach you how to change a diaper, feed, burp and bathe the baby. Nothing came naturally.

I spent less and less time with you when you were an infant. I was too selfish, too busy being a young adult. Of course, that made the possibility of bonding even less remote. That was my fault and I am sorry for that.

When I met Bob, I was not spending very much time with you at all. He did not like children, so I'd leave you at the sitter's. Not too long after I met him, I started doing meth and cocaine. It wasn't very long before the drugs became the most important thing in my life (except maybe for Bob, who I was also addicted to). I was guilty that I wasn't being a mother to you, but that wasn't enough to make me change.

I became more and more guilty and took you to give you up for adoption. I was a failure. In a week, I decided I hadn't given it all I had to try to raise you, so I brought you back home. I tried again, and I failed again.

If Bob did molest you (which, as you know, I don't believe he did because he was never alone with you, although, being a meth and cocaine addict, I could sleep for days on end, and I suppose something could have happened), that would mean I was even a worse mother. How could anyone let that happen to their little baby girl? If it did happen at my house or at a babysitter I left you with (which is what I always suspected happened), I am very, very sorry for that.

I am sorry for not being able to be what I wanted or what you wanted. When I signed the papers and gave you up for adoption, I thought I was doing the best for you that I could. I thought you would be adopted by a family that would shower you with love and that you could have a normal childhood. I am sorry that did not happen.

I am sorry, too, that I could not give you what you needed as an adult.

There is one thing, though, that I think we can both be very happy about. I did not have an abortion.

I had a hard time with this today. There are three major things that hit an angry chord with me:

1) The selfishness behind her actions for reaching out to me
2) Telling me my dead father wanted me aborted (I refuse to believe her lies)
3) Ending this letter the way she did by abruptly telling me I should be thanking her for not aborting me.

I think she should have run this letter by her therapist before sending it to me. If that therapist isn't a quack she would have informed her that a note like this can be pretty damn damaging to a person. Then again, my mother has a pretty good track record when it comes to shredding my heart.

I am not going to justify this letter with a response today. I may change my mind about that at a later time, but today I will remain silent on my end of the email. I thought long and hard about putting this on my blog. Initially I told myself that is immature and I need to keep my dirty laundry to myself. Then I reminded myself that I blog for me and no one else. Blogging is way cheaper than therapy and well, if throwing my dirty laundry out for anyone to see saves me a little sanity and a lot of dough, then so be it.

If my mother happens to find her words aired out on my blog, and gets upset, well then...shame on her for writing them. These words belong to me now, and I can put them here if I feel like it. I have nothing to lose. We have no relationship and frankly, if she gets upset then la dee dah I don't give a damn!

I tend to write what I feel as I feel it and right now I am angry at this woman for writing me such an awful letter. I pity her for being so cold and empty inside that she cannot imagine having the capacity to love a person that she helped to bring into this world. As selfish as she is, she obviously doesn't love herself. For that, I am sorry for her.

Even in a supposed apology letter, she is still stabbing at me. I don't understand her need to hurt me. I understand her desire to do what is best for me, and the guilt assoiciated with knowing that her wishes were not fulfilled and I had it rough in my childhood years, but to deliberately lash out at me only measures the level of selfishness this woman has climbed to.

I know what happpened with my Dad. I know that she called him after she had me in order to collect child support, she told him she had his daughter and his name was NOT on the birth certificate so he would have no rights to me. Then three years later he gets a call from social workers asking him to sign over his parental rights so I could be adopted. My dad fought for me. He refused to sign those papers for 3 years. He tried everything he could to get the state to give him a chance to take custody of me, but he was a single man, a truck driver, with no roots or a home at the time, and they would not let him have me. He only signed away his rights when they agreed to send him photos of me and allowed him one visit to make sure I was safe. I was six when he met me and that would be the one and only time he saw me until I was 17 and I found him.

March 10th will be the 3rd anniversary of my Daddy's death. This is a really hard time for me already, and to have this woman tell me such a horrible thing right now, it cuts deep. Three years is a long time, but that doesn't change the fact that my heart is broken over the loss of my Daddy. For her to say such things...She is awful. I cannot believe I have her blood running through my veins.

I think about how we are cut from the same cloth and it literally sickens me. I cannot turn out like this woman. I am nothing like her. She is everything I strive NOT to be.

I love my babies. Each and every one of them. I love them more than life itself. I would jump in front of a bus to save them. I would die for them. My love has NO boundaries. My babies are my heart, my soul. I could never imagine being without them. Being a mother is hard work, but the moment I saw those two lines on my pregnancy test I knew right away that I was ready for the challenge.

Sure I was scared, I knew there was a good chance history would repeat itself, but I looked history in the face and told it to fuck off. I didn't need to sit and wait for history to repeat itself when I had a future to look forward to.

13 years later, I have so much to be thankful for. A loving husband who loves me more than I deserve, three beautiful boys who know just how to drive me nuts, and make me smile all at the same time. I have my faith. I know that my mother is not in charge of my fate. She never held the key to my life. God is in charge. He is the one that breathed life into me, and He continues to breathe life into me. He has a purpose for me. He is the one that I will thank for my life. Not her.

So today, I am going to thank God for the blessings He has bestowed upon me. I am going to take this experience as a reminder to love my children more outwardly so they will never ever doubt how much they mean to me. As hard as it is, I will pray for my mother. I will pray that one day she will know what it is like to feel for someone other than herself. She is living in a cold, dark world and I will pray that one day she will see the light and understand exactly what she has missed out on. Then, when I am done praying for her, I will let her go and hold on to what I do have, and thank my lucky stars that my side of the cloth is whole, colorful and woven strong and tight instead of tattered, faded and worn.

While I was posting this I came across a quote that I got from Tuesday's service last year:

"Refuse to fall down.
If you cannot refuse to fall down, refuse to stay down. If you cannot refuse to stay down, lift your heart toward heaven and like a hungry beggar, ask that it be filled and it will be filled.
You may be pushed down. You may be kept from rising.
But no one can keep you from lifting your heart to heaven--only you.
It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear.
The one who says nothing good came of this, is not yet listening."
-Clarisse Pinkola Estes

These words say it best. What is in my heart. I am refusing to stay down and rejoicing that my heart is filled with His love and all the love from all my family and friends.

I know that tomorrow, I will be ok.

Dear Betty....

2009-10-10T23:40:00.004-06:00

Dear Betty,

You have touched my life in more ways than you can possibly imagine. When I first met you I looked at you as an older lady and really did not take the time to get to know you. Months went by and I would smile at you in passing, but I never really took the time to say more than hello and goodbye.

When I had my accident in March, after a couple of weeks I was finally able to call in to work and it was your voice I heard on the phone. You were so kind to me. Caring, and concerned you really wanted to be sure I was ok.

I called a few times during the 2 months I was out and each time your friendly voice would greet me. You kept me up to date on all the happenings at work. You were so good about that, always in the loop and keeping everyone informed.

When I returned to work, I was sequestered to softlines and that is where we became fast friends. You ran that fitting room like a tight ship. You could hustle through there and at the end of the evening you were always so helpful.

I loved our chats about nothing. One time when thunder shook the whole store, you looked at me, eyes misty from a distant memory. "My Great-Grandmother used to call these storms Dunder-Boomers..." Every time I hear thunder I think of the wistful look on your face as you spoke of your great grandmother.

One day, I heard you took a fall. You busted your teeth right through your lip. You said you had tripped but the store said you fainted. We were all so worried about you. We told you to see your doctor to be sure all was ok.

We all were quite frustrated with you for being so stubborn, Betty. I wanted to drag you to the Dr. myself if only I knew how to coax you into my car! Watching you go from bad to worse was so hard. We all cared so much for you. We wanted to see our Betty zipping around the fitting room again. Instead we watched you hobble around and it broke our hearts to see you suffer.

We were relieved to hear you finally went to the Dr. Lots of stuff going wrong with you. We all did what we could to help you. You could barely stand and we understood even simple things like doing your dishes or grocery shopping were too much for you to bear.

As hard as it was for you, you allowed us in to help you. You were so surprised that we cared so deeply for you.

Getting to know you at work was great, but I am so grateful for the day we spent together at your home. I had made some meals for you and I'm glad you liked the tuna casserole and even though you were kind you didn't care for the vegetarian spaghetti. I bet you still have some of that in your freezer, don't you?

Walking in to your home was like stepping out of a time capsule and into 1976. Your home was as old as I was and nothing had been changed except the new stove in the kitchen. The carpet was orange and beige shag, the wood fixtures, the wood paneling...You still had your parents room set up as though they were still there with you. The dresses you sewed for your mother were beautiful. I know I told you this, Betty, but you were so talented. I only wish I could have been over more and you could have taught me to sew lovely dresses like the ones you made for your mother.

I was amazed at your book collection. You must have had over 1000 books lining your bedroom wall. All those Harlequin Romance novels, and Nancy Drew books. You treasured each one.

You were a true Cheapskate, Betty. You unplugged every appliance while not in use. You washed your plastic butter bowls and used them as tupperware. You even washed out your ziploc bags, something I never thought to do! You let the sun light up your home and turned on your lights at dusk. You didn't own an answering machine and your phone was an old corded rotary probably as old as your home!

I really enjoyed you taking the time to give me a tour of your place and the photos you shared of your parents and of you and your little brother as children. You treasured the simple things in life, and I felt the warmth of your smile as you told me stories of your childhood.

You were a young, naiive 13 year old girl trapped in a 63 year old body. It was hard for me to understand how you could be happy living all alone, never being married, never even having a boyfriend. Not one. Steve Carell has nothing on you, Betty. You could have been a nun! I had never met someone your age with such little life experience. No travels out of the country or even the state. You were content to spend your days at work and then come home and curl up with a good book or listen to the radio. Your tunes were old school, Betty. Not my kind of old school, but jazz and classical. You had this little tuner radio that barely worked. You were so proud of the console stereo equipped with a working record player. Even though it worked you rarely played it.

I tried to get you to sit so I could do your dishes. You were so embarrassed but you knew I wanted to help and you let me. You were supposed to be sitting but after 10 minutes you ended up right next to me drying the dishes. I was shocked you didn't have a dishwasher. It had been so long since I handwashed a dish. I loved how you kept giving me back dishes that had spots on them. You were so OCD, it cracked me up. Spots I could not see with my naked eye, but they were there!

I treasure the moment you shyly told me that where I was standing was where your mother stood and you would dry as she washed. It brought you back to a time when you were happy and it made my heart bounce with emotion as I saw your eyes tear up and your face brighten with your sweet smile. I know you adored your mother and missed her so. I was so happy to be there with you and hear you reminisce about her with me.

We talked about your love life, or lack of one. I was surprised you had not even been out on a date. I joked about hooking you up with your neighbor since he was single and always there to lend you a hand. You blushed at the idea and kind of laughed it off.

We talked about the pain of watching a parent die. In your case you cared for both of them until they passed. Your father passing in 2005 and your mother passing in 2007. We talked about the idea of ghosts and the afterlife and you admitted that there was a time you felt them in the home but it was brief and you knew they were with our Father.

We shared a lot of laughs and a few tears that day. I was sad to go as I didn't want to leave you alone. I wanted so bad to take care of you to let you know that you are never alone. I wanted you to feel loved and cared for. To know that you could pick up the phone and call me for anything and I would be there. I did tell you to call me and you took down my number. I felt awkward because I wanted to hug you goodbye but I was frozen because I was not sure what to do. I didn't have to think because next thing I knew your arms were around me and you hugged me so tight for almost 2 minutes. You made me tear up with that big hug, Betty. I was trying to play it cool and calm and then you go and hug me like that. I managed to keep the tears in my eyes even after I saw your eyes well up. These were happy tears...happy for a newfound friendship, happy because I helped you but I want you to know that you really helped me too.

I admire your spunk. I love your smile. I look at you as though you are a grandmother but I feel as though you are a child in many ways. So innocent, so unaware of the world around you.

You took care of your parents for so long, you forgot to take care of yourself. Going to the Dr was not on your priority list but you quickly learned that if you did not go, you would have 12 screaming ladies in red shirts on your back so fast!

When you learned you had to have open heart surgery and you had tumors on your liver, I was so devastated for you. That is how my dad passed away, tumors consuming his liver, he died so suddenly. I cried for you. I prayed so hard that you would be ok. I got scared too. I kept thinking about the pain I felt when I lost my Grandpa in that housefire, and then the fresh pain from losing my Dad. The thought of befriending someone in your condition scared the crap out of me. I didn't want to endure the pain of losing someone else I cared for. But I pushed those fears aside and reminded you I was here. I meant it. I would be there for you.

I laughed as we talked the night before your surgery. How you said it was really hard but you were setting your hair. I joked about you trying to snag yourself a Doctor. You assured me that even though you were nervous, you were at peace with everyting. We talked about the big "what if..." and your words reassured me at a time I should have been reassuring you. You told me that if you were to go you knew where you were going and you would be happy to go there. I told you not to be in a rush because we sure like having you around.

You made it through the surgery and I was so happy. I did not call you because I was afraid to disturb you while you healed. I meant to call after a week or so and next thing I knew several weeks went by and I finally made myself take a moment to call.

That was two days ago. Damn you, Betty for not having an answering machine. Your phone rang over 20 times before I finally hung up. I wanted you to know I was still here and that you were in my thoughts daily. I really should have called you sooner, but I admit I was scared. Scared to hear you in pain or that I was calling at a time when you were resting.

Betty, my heart is so heavy right now. My tears flow freely as I feel that hug you gave me, your fingertips holding tight against my back as you thanked me for coming over. I had no idea that would be the last time I saw you. I am just so sad that I didn't get that "one more time" we all seem to want so badly when we lose someone we care about.

I want you to know that you were somebody. You impacted a lot of us in ways that you never knew. I pray that you feel the warmth you spread to all of us. I pray that you know how much we will miss you. I know you would never want us to be sad but we are all feeling the loss of not having you here anymore.

I had to endure working tonight and it was tough. Walking into the fitting room, a place where we shared many light hearted chats. Opening the notebook and seeing your instructions written inside. Facing all the people who adored you and feeling that emptiness, the stark pain of knowing you were gone.

I was grateful for the moments I had company but I could not stop talking about you. I found myself going back to that moment in your kitchen as I washed and you dried and I could see how happy you were. Such a simple moment.

To think that you are experiencing a joy like none that can be described here on earth is comforting to me. To know that you are with your parents brings me peace.

I will miss you, Betty. I am missing you. It hurts and it sucks. I hate the pain that squeezes at my heart and pounds at my head. I hate having that lump in my throat that won't go away. I hate walking around like I am in a fog and I can't seem to get my thoughts straight because all I can think about is the pain of losing you and feeling like a big dork because to so many you were just a coworker and I should not be so broken up over this, but to me you were a friend. Someone I admired. Someone I looked up to and your life captivated me with awe.

I know God has an amazing plan for you in Heaven. I am rejoicing just knowing that you finally get to see that you did make a difference and I know you can see into all our hearts and finally know that you were loved and for good reason.

It was hard to open myself up to our friendship, knowing that this pain would be lingering around the corner, but I am glad I took the chance. I am a better person for knowing you, my dear sweet friend.

Your Friend,

Tamara

Betty is doing great!

2009-09-08T23:45:00.001-06:00

She is now home and recovering for heart surgery! The tumors are benign (Thank God!) and she has to get shots to keep them from growing. I am so happy she is getting on the track to recovery!

Prayers for Betty

2009-08-29T00:57:00.002-06:00

Betty is Wilma. I used a undercover name just in case it was not cool to use her real name...but she needs all the prayers she can get.

Today she had open heart surgery. Tomorrow they are taking a biopsy of a tumor in her liver...

Please please pray it is not cancerous.

Please pray for a quick recovery.

She really is a dear sweet woman who has one brother and no one else in this whole world but her friends at work and a couple of nice neighbors.

Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers this week.

My Friend, "Wilma"

2009-08-23T01:12:00.002-06:00

Please pray for my friend "Wilma" I posted about her before. She has some issues with her heart and they were set to do open heart surgery when they found out she has tumors on her liver and intestines. Of course anything to do with tumors on the liver terrifies me.

Please send prayers her way. She really is an amazing woman and it will break my heart if she ends up having cancer.

Dear Daddy

2009-08-11T13:38:00.002-06:00

I'm mad at you. I know it is ridiculous for me to be angry with you, given your current situation and all, but I can't seem to control how I am feeling.

It's really not fair. How this all went down. You not being in my life, through circumstances that were not in your control. I finally met you when I was 17 but it was hard for both of us.

We had a rocky road, you and I. You were so generous to let me stay in your home when I found myself pregnant and alone. I really got to know you in those few months. I finally felt like I had a Daddy but I still didn't know how to be a daughter. It's not something that comes with genetic makeup, you know. I was nobody's daughter my whole childhood and then all of a sudden I have a father who wants his daughter and I don't know how to give him what he wants.

I was scared to be on my own but even more afraid of being a burden so with your loving guidance, I moved out on my own. Our relationship became very rocky as I struggled to regain my independence. You were looking for me to acknowledge all you had done for me, perhaps to fill that void in your heart left by all the years of guilt when you didn't know where I was. I just wanted to have some time to figure out how to be a parent and build a life for my son and I.

I moved over 1000 miles from you. We parted on shaky terms. You wanted me to stay near you and I was ready to move on to the next stage in my life. You once told me that you will never choose me over your wife (when she and I were fighting) and that stung hard. Especially because I never asked you to choose I just felt she was wrong and wanted you to know how I felt. I know it was hard for you, when we fought. You loved us both so much and felt caught in the middle. When it was really good between all of us it was wonderful but when it was really bad it was unbearable. That is why I moved. I wanted to be free from all the drama and even your neediness. I was tired of you needing me to be someone I wasn't.

I loved you. I loved you more than I knew I was capable of loving you. Distance proved to be what we needed. Our relationship blossumed over the phone. We did not get to see each other much but I knew there was plenty of time. Later.

The few visits we had were nice. We got along great and it seemed that you were falling into your role as my Dad and I really enjoyed my role as your daughter. I finally could hug you without being afraid. I could look you in the eye and know that it was safe to do so. We could talk for hours about nothing and it was nice.

When I lost my Grandpa in that horrible housefire, it was you who cried with me. It was you who comforted me and knew just what to say to my aching heart to somehow learn to function again.

I began to open up enough to rely on you to be there for me. I trusted you. I needed you.

You knew something was wrong and you even called me one day and said "I've been a bad Father..." You let me laugh that off and tell you if you were a bad father then I was a bad daughter. Then you let me babble away for over an hour without butting in to tell me you were dying. You could have told me. It would have sucked but at least I would have gotten a proper goodbye with you...

Instead you just went along with the words I was saying. God only knows what was going through your mind as I babbled on about the kids and my problems. Did you even try to come up with the words to tell me or did you just feel I was better off not knowing? I mean, you had to know I was going to find out one way or another. Maybe you really didn't know...I guess I will never know the answer.

I got on a plane to see you. Within hours I was watching you take your last breaths. Daddy, you have no idea how hard this was for me. I could barely stand there. I wanted you to know I was there with you, there for you. Because I loved you and you needed me there. Towards the end, when it was obvious it was only a matter of minutes, I wanted to run away so bad. I wanted to run as far away as I could and scream at the top of my lungs at God for putting me through this, for taking you from me without so much a goodbye. I wanted to know what was in your heart. I wanted to know you would find a way to let me know you were ok as you crossed from this earth to the path of your spiritual journey. I got NOTHING. So here I was, watching you drown inside yourself. Understanding that each of your organs was shutting down one by one and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do except listen to you breathe and pray that God take you without suffering.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Gurgle. Silence. Breathe in...

It was heartwrenching for me. I could no longer stand at your side. I could not leave you but I knew that once the silence stayed, and no more breaths came, I would have to run.

I stood there touching your big toe. Poised to run to the back room as soon as the silence set in. Something inside me was telling me to run as fast as I could. Any moment now. Another breath. More gurgling. The strength it took to stand there....came from deep within.

Silence.

Is it over? Oh my God. That's it.

RUN.

I ran.

Things happened after that. Terrible things. I know that God or an Angel was looking out for me. Something happened where after my Dad took his final breaths all the fluid that he had drowned in came out of his mouth. I heard the noise. I'll never forget that sound. It was almost as bad as the sound of silence when Dad stopped breathing. Almost.

I was in the back room. I was alone. No one remembered I was there. After what seemed like hours, the men came to take my Dad to the mortuary. The sound of them lugging his body into the bag. The sound of that horrible zipper. I heard it all. I want to forget but it haunts me.

Less than 3 years later I sit. Still angry. Still hearing these sounds as though they happened minutes ago.

I was somebody's daughter. You were my hero. I could act like a brat and get away with it because you were my Daddy and I was your princess. You took that away from me.

You promised me you would never leave and you left me.

It sucks. I'm hurting. I'm mad at you for breaking your promise.

I know, I know. You died. It's not like you could have helped it. But still, I have the right to be irrational and to pout. I have the right to yell at you when no one is looking. I have the right to jump up and down and stomp my feet and tell you it's not fair.

Because you missed my terrible twos. Now I'd like to think you are up there being forced to watch your daughter through her terrible thirties.

I just wish I could bury my head in your big barrelled chest and hear you tell me that everything is going to be ok.

I miss my Daddy today.

Food for the Soul

2009-07-31T00:17:00.002-06:00

A while ago I mentioned my co-worker "Wilma" she has not gotten any better. In fact she has taken a leave of absence from work because she was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. It sounds bad, but it is a condition that can be treated if she gets the proper care. The problem is she is quite stubborn and doesn't like to go to the Dr. for the simple fact that it costs money.

She started retaining water and has since put on 40 (yes FORTY) pounds of water weight! Her condition is serious but her response to getting care is quite relaxed. We can't push her too hard so all we can do is offer to help and hope she allows us to.

A lot of us at work have gotten together to intervene. There is a lot of talk on how we want to help and I decided to stop talking and just do.

I called her today and basically told her I was coming over with some meals. Naturally she hesitated and I said that I wanted to do this and I insist. She agreed. I ran around like a mad woman to the store then to my home, tearing up my kitchen and making quite a bit of freezable food to hold her over a good week or two! I also got her some disposable plates, silverware, and cups so she would not have to worry about dishes.

My husband had his relatives and the kids in the mountains today so I took advantage of this alone time to spend with Wilma.

I cannot tell you how happy I felt when I saw the smile on her face.

Her home is a double wide in a quiet mobile park. It is 33 years old. Just like me. With the exception of a newer Maytag stove, no upgrades have been done to this house. Wood paneling graced the walls, padded linoleum on the kitchen and bathroom floors. Cut and shag orange and beige carpet under my feet. Old pictures of her and her brother placed on the dresser in the room her parents shared. Hand sewn dresses that she made for her mother sit in a wardrobe her father handcrafted.

In her room books line one wall from floor to ceiling. Harlequin Romanace novels, and Nancy Drew mysteries. She is an avid reader and her book collection is impressive. There is a sitting room with a console stereo that plays 8-tracks and records. Stepping into her home is like walking out of a time machine. It is quite remarkable!

Wilma grew up with her parents and her brother. They were a close knit family. Eventually her brother married and moved several hours away, leaving Wilma to care for their elderly parents. Eventually her parents passed in that home about 2 years apart from each other. Wilma is left alone and has grown accustomed to living out her days alone amungst her tiny tv and her novels. She keeps her home quite tidy, though during my visit she was embarrassed about the dishes that were taking over her kitchen. She does not own a dishwasher and has to handwash everything. It is hard for her to stand for long periods of time. I insisted that she let me take care of the dishes and she told me not to worry about it. I told her I wanted to help.

Wilma is religious and I knew this. I pulled out the "Let me serve you. Jesus asks us to serve each other so please, let me fulfill His request." Well, that worked like a charm! *High five to the Big Guy* I spent the rest of the afternoon doing dishes and talking with her about so many wonderful things. She would get bursts of energy and get up to help dry the dishes as I washed them. She told me her mother used to wash while she dried. It seemed to bring back some good memories for her and I could tell the past few years of standing alone at the sink were hard for her.

I gently suggested ways she could get around the house easier. She had kept her parents canes and walkers and I suggested she have a walker handy when she is sitting so it would not be so difficult to get up. I also suggested she get a life alert button to wear because all she has in the home is an old rotary phone. She has already had a couple of incidents where she had to crawl to her room because she could not stand. This is so upsetting for me to hear. I want so badly to adopt this woman and take her under my wing without her feeling like I feel sorry for her. I honestly admire her and really feel she is an amazing person with a lot to teach me. As much as she feels I was helping her today, she has no idea how much she helped me.

After a few hours, I had to leave to get back home and meet the kiddos. I told her I would be back and I'd bring some DVD's for her to watch. She actually has a DVD player that she received from a neice as a gift. She has no idea how to work it though so we will save that lesson for my next visit! I plan to make her some zucchini bread and print out a lot of info on congestive heart failure so she understands what things to look for in case her situation becomes urgent.

What I have learned today is that it is always nice to talk about doing something for other people. Talking is great because you are thinking about them and you have the desire to help them. Doing, on the other hand is much more rewarding. Doing is also much harder because it takes effort and in today's hectic times it usually means putting other things off so you can make time to do for others.

Doing feels so good. I plan to do more often. In the process of turning my words into action, I managed to make a pretty awesome friend.

The hug I received, as I said goodbye...the two armed super squeeze hug that lasted almost an entire minute...I can't even put into words how much that meant to me.

Please send prayers for my friend Wilma.

Austin's Diagnoses

2009-07-15T15:40:00.003-06:00

It's been awhile. I have just been playing the waiting game. We saw the Dr. today to discuss what Austin may have. First she said he was very bright. On the cognitive testing he scored a 126. Apparently the average person scores between a 105-109. Above average is 110-114 Highly Intellegent is 115-120 and Superior is anything above that. That is how she worded it, Superior intellegence.

If you were to look at the stats Austin is 96% in the country which means only 4% of children his age have scored on the same level or higher than him.

She said that alone causes a lot of his conflicts but there are also concerns with his anxiety, some signs of depression and he is not Asperger's but still autistic.

She said she is diagnosing him with PDD which stands for Pervasive Developmental Disorder. It is a form of autism but higher functioning than those with Asperger's. I am relieved to know that this is actually something and that with time and the proper cognitive therapy and support Austin may be able to lead a normal life. I am doing my googling of PDD now but I wanted to update you that we have an official diagnoses.

I am not sure if we qualify for SSI benefits to get Austin on Medicaid which is something I am looking into. I am so worried about the cost of treatment. Just for 3 sessions at Children's Hospital - our health insurance billed us 30% of the cost of the bill and we owe over $1100.00!!! I can't believe the cost of healthcare these days. This means they charged over $3300.00 for 3 visits... So I am trying to look into if this would qualify him for benefits so we can't stress over the cost to treat him. There is a waiting list for a psychiatrist to become available at Children's so we are going to put him on that list and pray we can get help with the cost to properly help him.

I'll post more when I get more details. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers!

Waiting Waiting Waiting

2009-06-28T23:52:00.003-06:00

I have not posted in a while. We went through the evaluations with Austin late last week and now I am just waiting. Doctor says it should take about a week and then she will meet with me for a consultation. I wonder if that week is Dr. talk for a month or if it is a week in real people time?

I'm not very patient and I just want to move on to the next step. I am always thinking ahead. I just want to verify that we are not bad parents, we just have a son with a challenging disability, illness, whatever it is called...if "it" is anything at all.

It's sad but I am really wanting to label this. I want a label so we can treat him. Part of me wonders if all of this is one big overreaction and the Dr. will come back and tell me he is a normal boy with normal issues, but most of me knows that is most likely not the case.

He really has been good for us lately. I wonder if he is somewhat relieved, like he feels we are moving in a positive direction for him. He still causes several small disturbances throughout the day but nothing that pushes me completely over the edge like he usually does.

So for now, I wait. I analyze. I blame myself. I analyze some more . I hope. I wait.

Waiting sucks.

During this time I find myself being more and more introverted. I am frustrated with the people I call my friends, because frankly I feel they have not been supportive through this. I honestly don't think they understand. It is hard when your child has behavioral issues verses physical illness. People are quick to point fingers at you, the parent. Even if they aren't outwardly doing it, they are wondering what we did wrong. Believe me, I wonder that too sometimes, but I know deep in my heart that we have been great parents and I know that this is not our fault.

So, that is where I am at. I'll update if I get a diagnoses or some news.

Oh and "Wilma" my co-worker. She is still in bad shape. She comes in to work limping and now she is retaining water and swollen. She still has not been in to her Dr. I scolded her a a bit today and told her if she was my Mom I'd drive her to the ER. I am worried about her. Her hands turn purple after she eats and she gets red blotches on her face. She is tired and dizzy too. She needs to take some time off work and recover but she can't afford to miss work. She told me she has no savings and lives off her pay. I told her to look around her home and if there is anything she wants to get rid of I would be happy to take pictures and post ads for her on Craigslist. I just want to help her any way I can and somehow convince her not to be so stubborn and see her Dr!

Please keep her in your prayers.

Thanks!

Emo Mom

2009-06-24T11:44:00.001-06:00

I'm all sorts of emotional tonight. Aunt Flo just packed her bags and left so I am not sure what my problem is. Well, scratch that...I've been on pins and needles for a while now just trying to figure out my oldest son's issues and honestly I think it is bothering me more than I care to admit. Either way it goes, if there is a diagnoses then I will blame myself for not noticing the condition sooner. If there is not a diagnoses I will blame myself for not knowing how to parent him. I know I just need to stop blaming myself but any mother will agree with me that Mother's Guilt is something that never goes away, it just increases with time.

So tomorrow is day one of his evaluation. We shall see how that goes.

I worked tonight. I am starting to wonder if "Fast, Fun & Friendly" is really my cup of tea. I mean some of those "LOD's" are a little out there. One in particular I think hates me. I know I shouldn't take it personal because she seems to hate almost everyone. For real. She is Evil. She is one of those people that you can't read at all. She's been there at this job for over 25 years. You know, if I was stuck at a place like that doing the same thing and not moving up the ladder, I'd be frustrated too. BUT the difference between us is that I would not take it out on everyone in my path!

I'll see her and she will smile and say "How are you?" in such a sweet voice. My stupid ass falls for it every time too. Next thing I know she has me cornered with her "You are so stupid" face telling me I don't know my rear from a hole in the ground (not those exact words but she makes me feel like a total idiot whenever I speak to her!) Anyway, so tonight she decides to pull the "Let's screw with Tamara" card on me. I was just minding my own business and she comes up to berate me about not knowing how to fill out a raincheck and how I should know how to do that by now blah blah blah. I tried to explain to her that I am a p/t evening team member and no one is ever available to train me. She continues to bash me and this time I stuck up for myself. I was not nice. I did not sit there and say sorry like I usually do. I told her it is not my fault and listened to her make stupid excuses as to why I should know this already.

It took all my nerve not to take every towel I was folding and dump them on the floor, tell her to clean up the mess and walk the eff out of there. No $8.00 an hour job is worth that nonsense. For real. She talked down to me like I was some preschooler who needed a time out. I am a grown woman, dammit! I felt uncomfortable around her before, and now I just want to avoid her like the plague.

It's a good thing I like everybody else I work with. It's even better I only work with her a couple nights a week.

So that was my night at work. I was pretty cranky the rest of the evening even though I kept telling myself that I should not allow her to get under my skin, that kindness was the best revenge, I refused to take my own advice.

Speaking of liking my co-workers...we have the sweetest elderly lady that works in the fitting room. Let's call her Wilma. She is so kind. She is one of those people that genuinely cares about everyone and she knows everything about everyone too! She has a warm voice and a warmer smile. She is strong and determined to do a great job while at work. After my car accident, when I would call to check in she would ask how I was feeling and tell me she misses having me there. She wasn't making small talk, and I knew she meant it. Small things like that really show someone's character and Wilma has a lot of character!

Recently she had a fall and really hurt herself while working. She has been having some health issues and I find myself worrying about her a lot. I learned that she has always lived with her parents and never got married or had children. Both her parents have passed and now she lives alone in their home. She drives an old station wagon that used to belong to her dad. She, like many of us, is living paycheck to paycheck and even though this fall has really caused her a lot of pain she will never complain at work. I have to pry her for information sometimes. Eventually she will admit she is having a hard day while her eyes tear up but she maintains that she will be fine. I just want to hug her, but I know that she does not want to be seen as frail and needy. She definately does not want people feelnig sorry for her either. She is a go-getter and it is hard for her to ask for help.

She was having a difficult time tonight. I heard she took another spill at work a couple of days ago and my heart sank. I want so badly to be there for her. To cook her some meals and help her with errands. Anything that will help her heal and get back to being herself again.

I had to hold back tears tonight as I drove out of the parking lot. She was limping, head held high as she walked to her car. She had not limped all night and now she was taking slow and careful steps. I am really worried about her and I am hoping she will allow me to help her in any way I can.

As I was driving home, my thoughts went from Wilma to what to expect when I get home. My baby will most likely be up and want to nurse, then my husband will be wanting to spend time with me and will complain if I want to go online. I hadn't peed all night and I knew it would be another half hour before I could go because I would be bombarded by the time I walked in the front door.

Then it hit me......

I thought of Wilma. No one will be waiting for her to walk in the door. She's all alone.

I am truly lucky.

It's ok that my bladder has to work overtime because I can't stop to pee. I'm needed. I'm loved. I am so grateful for that.

If you can spare a prayer, please send one Wilma's way. She is really heavy on my heart tonight.

Possible Answers...then again possibly not

2009-06-01T13:00:00.003-06:00

Still waiting for the County Worker to knock on my door. The anxiety over this is unnerving. Just waiting for someone to tell me I am a fit parent...I know I am but having to depend on someone else to make that judgement is making me all kinds of frustrated, scared, anxious, defensive, mad, etc etc etc

Good thing I can put on a smile and still play legos with my boys. I don't want to drag them into this more than they will be. My oldest is still acting like the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. He is still up to his day to day antics and has no comprehension of the severity of the situation he has helped get us into.

I am blessed enough to have a co-worker that has a child with bipolar and we both agree that is not what my son has. She mentioned Asperger's Syndrome and needless to say when I read the symptoms I felt we were on to something. I called the psychologist at Childrens and told her to please focus on that condition and relook at his symptoms again. I am trying to avoid another assessment as we have a $700.00 deductible for my son so this is costing us so very much at a time when we are still struggling with the bills from my accident.

The blessing I mentioned is that my co-worker informed me that if my son is diagnosed with something that it is a disability and he may be entitled to benefits like Social Security and state funded healthcare. I am not onoe of those parents that takes handouts but in this case, if we could have his medical needs paid for this would help us get the help he needs without fretting over the cost of everything.

I am really praying that we can find answers and if those answers lead us to a diagnoses that requires ongoing treatment that my son would be eligible for help through this program. Please keep us in your prayers.

About my faith. *Sigh* I am just so frustrated. I am trying to understand why. What am I supposed to learn from all of this. How do I glorify God through these ongoing trials that never seem to let up? I did the right thing. I was a young girl, barely 20 when I was pregnant with my son. His father wanted to drive me to the nearest clinic and I refused to. I carried him and read all the books and made sure I ate right and took care of myself. I loved him more than I can put into words and met his every need and perhaps even spoiled him. I did everything right. I did what I was supposed to do and still...I feel like I am being punished. If he really has a condition that is out of his control then I will feel awful. The guilt is already setting in and choking up in my throat when I allow myself to think about it. The guilt because I can hardly bear to be in the same room with him, to hear his voice and to look at him because of the years of disrespect and lack of desire to build on our relationship. I am trying to tell myself I am the adult and he is the child and I need to nurture him but it is hard because he constantly pushes me away. I told him once that if our dog bit him every time he went to pet him then he would stop trying to pet him. That is how I feel. I have been bit one too many times. When he picks fights with me I just quietly tell him to go to his room. I don't feel like arguing. He doesn't get his way but in a way he is not getting any discipline. I don't even know what the proper way to discipline him would be - I mean I don't want to beat him or anything but now that I have the state peeking in on my every move I just don't trust my own parenting skills anymore - with him. I am fine with the other two as they are just rambunctious little boys. I worry that they will think his behavior is normal and start to act like him because naturally they look up to their big brother. Then what do I do?

I wonder where God is in all of this. I keep asking for His help but so far I am not seeing it. All I want to do is help my son without going bankrupt and crazy in the process. I just hope He reveals his plans to me soon. I really need to know He is right here with me and my family as we go through this. I keep praying for Him to put His arms around my son and wrap him in His light. All I can do is grasp onto my faith, and not let it waiver through this.

Thanks for listening.

The other side of parenting

2009-05-31T00:34:00.003-06:00

I love being a parent. I love my boys and thoroughly enjoy watching them grow. My oldest son has been a huge challenge for me since he hit the first grade. This was about the time he also became a big brother. We chalked it up to attention getting and jealousy. Time went on and he just got worse and worse. I researched his behavior and the best description was Oppositional Defiance Disorder. He will stop at nothing to make me or my husband just blow up at him. I mean nothing. He picks and picks and he really knows how to get under our skin. He enjoys watching us struggle each and every day. He is in the seventh grade now. We have been going through a battlefield in our home with him day in and day out for almost 6 years. I keep telling myself "only 6 more years - we hit the halfway point" trying to be optimistic but the truth is I just don't know how much more of this I can stand. It is not even really a concern for my feelings but more that my feelings are deeply hurt out of concern for the man my son will grow up to be if he does not get the help he needs.

We have been trying and trying and running into wall after wall. He was almost expelled from public school after 3 suspensions before the 4th grade. We got him into a Charter School and he has done better behavior wise but still has control issues and refuses to do his school work unless he feels like it. He controls his environment whether it is at home or at school. He manipulates people so he can get his way and if they don't give in then there is hell to pay. My son is 12 years old for Heaven's sake! It is so frustrating to admit all of this but I have to get it off my chest because I can't keep this pent inside.

I yelled at him I screamed at him until I was blue in the face. I cried in front of him. I shook with anger. I was truthful with him. I begged him. Now I just deal with him. I really have given up emotionally in the sense that I would rather just send him to his room than argue with him because arguing is something he enjoys. This seems to work for me but it is not the right thing as he still gets his way. My husband is just floored at the total lack of respect from him. He steals everything. He goes into our bedroom and willingly takes things that he knows he shouldn't. Things that we have already punished him for taking. He takes his toys and his brothers toys apart and cuts out the wires and makes weird trinkets with them. He hoards all sorts of wires and screws and things in his room until I finally have to go in there and throw everything away.

In the 4th grade his school (the old one) sent social services to my home on an anonymous tip that they felt he was being abused by me (because I grabbed his wrist and led him out of the school after he got into trouble) He refused to walk with me so I grabbed his wrist and made him walk out with me. Apparently that is grounds for child abuse - enough to investigate me for it anyway. Well it was very scary for me to know that my other son was being undressed and checked for bruises at my babysitter's home. Scary and embarrassing. I don't abuse my children. If anything my husband and I are being abused by my son!

The charges were unfounded and life went on. Daily struggles with my son for everything. I finally decided to look into my insurance and see what I could do to find out what his problem was. I took him to a psychologist who was kind and talked to us but really was not helpful in diagnosing my son. He eventually told me I would need to go to a psychiatrist for an actual diagnoses. I took him to a psychiatrist who spoke to my son for 10 minutes before telling me he had depression and ADD and told me to put him on Wellbutrin. I was reluctant but wanted to help him so I did. Nothing happened. Nothing. His school called to tell me that they felt I needed to do more because he was not listening and it was frustrating for them so I weaned him off the Wellbutrin and took him to his pediatrician who agreed that we should treat the ADD. She put him on Concerta and that helped for about 2 weeks. 2 glorious weeks of finding out what it was like to actually enjoy being around my child again. Then the bad behavior started up and back in the negative routine we were again.

I still have him on Concerta and he passed 6th grade with 3 F's a D and a C on his report card. Hmmm I don't think the concerta is working anymore. I also think the school made a poor judgement in passing him with those grades.

I had my son on a list to see a psychiatrist through the Children's Hospital here. I was all psyched (excuse the pun) to go in there and get some real answers this time. I walked out of there shocked, confused and more upset than ever.

The Dr. was a nice lady. Easy to talk to. Sympathetic. She told me that my son's symptoms were that of a manic disorder. I looked this up later to see it was bipolar. My son had fabricated one major symptom by telling her he does not sleep at night but is fresh and energetic the next day. This is SO UNTRUE! I don't feel in my heart that my son is bipolar. I know he has issues but this feels like a mis-diagnoses based on bad information he gave this Dr.

She goes on to tell me that he said his dad (my husband) kicked him in the shin and because of that she has no choice but to file a report with Social Services. Here we go again. This time it is my husband who is getting the bad rap. The man that has taken my child (not his) under his wing. The man my child calls Dad. The man that has done nothing but take care of this boy has now been accused (wrongfully so) of being a child abuser by a child that has abused us for so very long.

Where are our rights? What about our two other children? Can they really walk into my home and take my babies away because my son is a pathological liar??

I am just at such a loss. Why are we going through this? Where were these social workers when I was being abused by my foster mother's son?? Where were these social workers when my foster parents were treating me like their own personal slave? So many children are victimized and truly abused and yet here they are knocking on MY door...TWICE! This is just ridiculous!

Now my son knows how upset we are and I hate to say it but he knows this is a great way to control us - this will happen again in the future - when he needs to whip out the big guns to show us he is boss.

I just feel so helpless. I feel like I cannot even parent my child. Like I have no support and we have to find the answers if there are any all by ourselves. It just sucks.

So sorry for the long post but I need prayers. I am having a hard time praying right now as I just don't understand things right now with the Big Guy up there. We just feel like we are under attack with my accident, my son getting worse and now this near future visit from a social worker and we have no idea what to expect. I feel at the mercy of a stranger right now. I went to get my son help and walked out feeling like the entire world jumped onto my shoulders. My husband can barely talk or look at me right now, he is just so very hurt by all of this.

Please keep us in your prayers.

Kayleigh

2009-05-12T08:59:00.002-06:00

Sweet Kayleigh. My heart is breaking. Another little girl has left this earth to be with our Lord in Heaven. Another life gone way too soon. Another parents heart is forever broken.

Sometimes when you see a button on a blog asking you to pray, you have a choice. To click it or to move on and keep blog surfing as if there is no one suffering. It is easier to keep moving. It is easier not to invest your time and especially your heart in to these people's lives. Why look? Why allow yourself to suffer with them? My husband asked me that as I choked back tears trying to tell him about Kayleigh a couple of weeks ago. He told me I shouldn't get so emotional about people we don't know. Part of me knows he may be right. But maybe I am more sensitive than most people. I can slip on someone else's shoes and really feel what they are feeling during their walk. I just *know* that if my child were suffering and I had an outlet like a blog to share my baby's journey and people actually cared enough to read and comment, it would mean so much to me. Every. Single. Comment. It would be a little bit of comfort during a difficult time. So if I choose to click that button, asking me for prayers then I know I am investing myself in this request. I am not just going to cruise by and comment "I am praying" and then move on to the next blog. I am going to learn about this person who I am praying for and really invest my thoughts and heart into my prayers.

I did it for Tuesday Fiona Whitt. I am doing it now for Kayleigh Anne Freeman.

Kayleigh...

This little girl was born last summer on June 23rd at three months early. She weighed in at exactly 1 lb. She had to fight from before the moment she took her first breath. She spent her whole life in the NICU and she was almost 11 months old when she passed away last night. Her story is one of courage and the pure need to fight for her life. Everyone said she would never make it and she fought like mad to prove them wrong. She touched so many hearts and gave so many people hope.

During what was to be her last surgery before the Freeman's would be able to FINALLY take their girl home, something went wrong and little Kayleigh did not get enough oxygen to her brain. She came out of surgery but was not the same. It was confirmed she had no brain waves. The Freeman's still faced this hurdle with the same love and faith that they have shown all along and all they asked for was to bring their baby home so they could show her what it felt like to have the sun on her face and maybe even let her lay in the grass. They wanted their daughter to just see outside and spend a moment in her room that they had so lovingly prepared for her while Aimee was pregnant. We all prayed for several days that they would get their wish but Kayleigh's brain was swelling and she was uncomfortable.

Kayleigh never made it home. Adam & Aimee did, however take their baby off all those tubes and wired and did take her outside.

I cannot bear to type much more. My heart is broken for this family. I am angry. I can't help but feel that because of someone's human error in the hospital (MY sole opinion - this has never been expressed by the Freeman family) this little girl lost her fight. I know God has been with them every step of the way but I am so angry that this happened. There. I said it. I just had to get it off my chest. They have been robbed of a future with this amazing little miracle and I am just so very sad and confused by why this happened.

If you happen across my blog, please send your prayers to The Freeman Family. Their blog is Kayleigh Anne Freeman

They just happen to be airing a special on this amazing family and little Kayleigh on The Doctors tomorrow, May 13th if you would like to learn more about Kayleigh's story.

Goodbye, sweet precious Kayleigh. You will never be forgotten.

Tuesday Blog Party & Auction!

2009-05-05T11:19:00.000-06:00

I have turned a blind eye so many times. For fear of feeling when I am too busy to feel for people. For fear of being sad or crying for others. Tuesday has taught me that it is ok to open your arms for the broken hearted. It's ok to smile at strangers. It's ok to help even when you think you can't.

Sometimes Blogging Hurts

2009-04-24T12:59:00.002-06:00

Learning of all these babies and children struggling, fighting, winning, losing and dying is so very hard. My heart literally aches and tears stream from my eyes. I feel so helpless as I read through the families pains, struggles and losses.

Two blogs in particular need a lot of prayer right now:

Kayleigh Anne Freeman has been fighting for her life and has lived her entire 10 months in the NICU. She has taken a bad turn for the worse and may have extensive brain damage. The family is asking for prayers and if you can take a moment and take a photo with you and/or your family while holding a sign saying "Praying for Kaleigh from _____" The family has requested this so they can make a video and help comfort them.

Last update from Twitter:

4/24 - Unfortunately, there has been no progression today with Kayleigh. They do another EEG tomorrow. Pray we get better news. God Bless,
about 13 hours ago from txt

Another family in need of prayers is Stellan's family.

He recently had surgery for his heart and he has had some ups and downs but they find themselves facing the possibility that the surgery did not help his condition. He is so sweet and his mother has been so open about her feelings and frustrations through this process.

I cannot even begin to imagine what these families are going through.

Please visit their blogs. Please pray for them and lend your support by posting their buttons and getting the word out so more people can be aware of their stories and the prayers can continue to pour in for these babies, for their families, for our entire family here on the blog-o-sphere.

Thank you & God Bless.

Better

2009-04-07T22:25:00.003-06:00

Whew! what a ride it has been! I am finally back to my busy schedule...kids and home during the day and working eves. I am able to make it through the day with almost no pain meds though nights are still a little rough but getting better each day.

I think I am over the hump! Yay!

Now I can begin to focus on the important things and build this blog to what I aspire it to be. A place to pray for those in need and who doesn't need a little prayer from time to time?

More to come.

Have a Blessed day!

Yes, I want cheese with my Whine! I prefer Provolone..

2009-03-22T23:44:00.003-06:00

I hurt. It hurts to breathe, to move. Even with pain pills I am still hurting. I whine. Maybe too much. I don't know what is considered too much but I feel like I am whining all the time. I know I have healed considerably these past two weeks. I went from literally not being able to sit down or stand back up without crying. From being afraid to sit on the "throne" for fear that I would not be able to get back up again. From having my dear husband wash my hair for me since I could not even reach up to do it myself...within a matter of a few days I forced myself to grit my teeth through the pain and be more independent. I managed to use the bathroom alone, then shower alone, then dress myself without help. Each day I find myself being more self reliant.

Now my husband is back at work and I am managing my household again. I find myself getting over-confident and very impatient with the healing process. I want so badly to just do the simple things that are still unbearable. Things like bending over to pick up toys and believe me there are a lot of toys and thigns on my floor right now! I really want to unload my dishwasher in 7 minutes like before my accident and now it takes me nearly 20 minutes.

Life has not slowed down in wait for me to mend. Everything is moving as fast paced before and I find myself struggling to keep up with it all. I also am keenly aware of the fact that my life could have been cut short. Perhaps I am overly aware of this. I find myself worrying when my head is pounding. Can someone die two weeks after a car accident? What if there is something wrong with me? Should I go back to sleep? What if I don't wake up. Deaths like Gabrielle from my church, a lady my age who went to bed and never woke up - cause of death unknown. Then Natasha Richardson who had a minor fall from a ski slope - seems perfectly fine - then dies a couple of days later? How is it that I can slam my head against a window of a car as it is rolling through a field at 45 miles per hour, and I am here to talk about it. Stories like this really make me so grateful to be here. I just wish I could get past this pain so I can actually ENJOY my life and my family again. I want so badly to run with my kids through the park and hold my baby without grimacing. I want to enjoy alone time with my husband and not wince when he goes to hug me.

I know I am whining - I warned you of this. I know it could have been worse. I have heard lots of horror stories of roll over accidents and I am so grateful for beng intact and breathing. Now if only it didn't hurt to breathe I would be able to enjoy it!

I would have been without a car payment for the first time in..well since I began driving which is too long ago! Instead I have a new car with a new payment. Luckily in this economy I got a great deal so my payment is nearly half of what I shelled out on my old car! Still, I am finding this accident is costly.

My ambulance bill came and get this - for a 20 minute ride I am getting charged $2,253.90!! Whoa. Good thing I have Health Insurance...bad thign I still have to cover 30% of this charge. I sure hope the Fire Dept doesn't send me a bill!

Now I am waiting for my ER bill. Luckily I was not admitted but I had a CT Scan and lots of pain meds. I hear that the pain meds are what gets you when the bill comes. It's hard to refuse pain meds when you are in pain! Grrrrr

Well, that is enough whining for now. I am trying to be optimistic. Trying to appreciate my new lease on life. Trying to get through each day. Gritting my teeth looks close enough to some like a smile, right?

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest *whew* I feel a little better already! :p

Life. What Are You Trying To Tell Me?

2009-03-07T13:01:00.002-07:00

I got into an accident on Thursday night on my way to work. I wrote about it on my main blog. You can read about it and see pictures of my poor minivan here

There is a lot to be thankful for and I have a lot to sort through. Unfortunately, I am in a lot of pain and my painkillers finally kicked in so I am getting all cross-eyed, lol.

One thing is for certain, I am extremely fortunate to have gotten out of this with a cracked rib and multiple bruises. Someone was looking out for me!

Not Understanding

2009-03-03T22:03:00.005-07:00

In my last post I mentioned that our church lost a mother of three children. I didn't tell you how she died. The fact is no one knows. She went to sleep and never woke up. She probably tucked her kids in that night and never had a clue that would be the last time she would hug them.

She just went to sleep.

She was 32 years old. Same age as I am. She was healthy. She was happy. She was working for God. She had recently been to the Philippeans on a missions trip. She spoke of how being there had changed her. How she cried with people who poured their hearts out to her and craved the word of God. She was so moved by her experiences there, she cried openly as she told us how much it meant for her to be there helping others.

I admit, I never took the time to get to know her. I would say hi and bye to her at church. I smiled at her children and made small talk on some occasions. She sat in my Facebook as a suggested friend and I never clicked the button to add her as my friend. I know that sounds completely minute compared to the big picture here, but it bothers me. How we really don't pay attention to people, we really don't open our eyes and our hearts and then they die and we are left here wondering what we missed out on.

I am paranoid to fall asleep. Not enough that I am sitting in bed holding my eyes open, but enough that I pray I am given another day. Just one more day, I ask. I need to be a better mother, a better wife. It seems I am never good enough in both aspects of my life. I really want to be, but I let the day to day get to me and before I know it that "one more day" is over and I have not accomplished anything.

I want to read my bible. I want to better my relationship with my Creator. I want to understand why He felt he needed to take this woman. Why her? Why now? I can't stop thinking of a part of the Scripture "Like a thief in the night..." Was Gabrielle one of the first He has chosen to take? Is He planning something bigger? I mean, anyone who reads the New Testament knows of His plans. He lays them out for all of us to see, and prepare for. The problem is, no one is really grasping the fact that this is real. It has always seemed to me that "THAT day" would be thousands of years from now. I never really thought it could be in my lifetime.

If God were on His way to take us to Heaven now, would He choose me? I can honestly say that I don't know. Because of this, I feel I have a lot of work to do within myself.

The sudden and unexplained death of this woman has gripped me in so many ways. I can't stop thinking of her. I can't stop wondering why there is no answer, even with an autopsy. No one knows why she died.

How can someone like her just go to bed and not wake up?

I am clueless. I am frustrated. I need an answer to this question.

I can't go to bed without her name in my heart. I can't wake up without my chest feeling so heavy with sadness for her children, her husband, her family.

None of this makes any sense to me.

So, I may be journaling my way through this. The biggest lesson I am learning is that it doesn't really matter what you do in life, when it is time to go, it is time to go. We really need to treat each day as though it is our last and understand this precious gift of life we have been given. Most importantly, we need to love each other and never be too busy to show it.

I want to live my life. I want to be genuine, be true. I want my children to know without a doubt that I love them with all my heart. I would lay down my life for them. I want them to always feel secure in my love and God forbid if anything were to ever happen to me, I want people to remember me as someone who loved life, cherished her family, and embraced the Lord.

You really just never ever know. You know?

******My Prayer******

Lord, I pray for the Johnson family as they mourn the loss of their mother, their wife, their daughter, their friend. I pray that there is closure as to what happened to her so no one is left without answers. I pray that you wrap this family in your light and fill them with peace and the warmth of love from their family and friends as they help them through this difficult time. I pray for special signs from Gabrielle that only her family could understand. Signs to give them hope and peace with her passing. Signs that help them know she has not left them. I believe in your signs, thanks to little Tuesday. I pray that the Johnson family gets their "balloons" too.

Lord, I am having a hard time understanding all of this. I am just a bystander and yet I have been rocked to the core by Gabrielle's passing. She reminds me of me in so many ways. This has truly opened my eyes that you could call on me at any moment and that I must treat my life as a gift. Words cannot express how much I have taken this to heart. I know that words are empty without action and I want so badly to take action. Lord, I pray that you help show me how to improve in my life and with my family so that I can feel good about the woman I am today. So that my loved ones will never doubt how much I cherish them. So that when I leave this earth, people will smile as they remember me. I want to make memories that last longer than the breath in my lungs. Lord, I pray that you walk with me, and guide me and that I hear your voice as you speak to my heart. I want so badly to give of myself to you and to my family and to those in need.

If I should die before I wake, I pray Dear Lord, my soul you take.

Amen.

Praying for Gabrielle Johnson

2009-02-28T15:25:00.002-07:00

Our church lost a young mother to three children last week. She was a bright, vibrant woman. A wife, a mother, a friend to many. She was working so hard for God. She is home now, but here on this earth we are all asking why and how?

I pray for her three young children and her husband. Please keep this family in your prayers as they struggle through such an emotional and physical loss.

You Raise Me Up

2009-02-16T23:55:00.003-07:00

I have been praying for two families right now. The Whitt's who lost their precious Tuesday and Cynthiaa who lost her newborn son, Aiden.

Both women have blogged and both show amazing courage during a time that no mother would ever have the strength to even imagine what kind of pain they are enduring.

The most amazing thing happened to both families. Both had spiritual experiences with balloons that were released while grieving the loss of these children.

The Whitt's released balloons on a Saturday morning. It was a windy day here in Colorado and they released the balloons about 5 minutes from their home. They woke up Sunday morning and went for a drive. Only to return home later that afternoon to discover a cluster of the pink balloons they released over 24 hours ago, in their tree in their front yard!!! How amazing is that??

Cynthiaa somehow got one white balloon in 4 dozen balloons. She tied and/or released all of them except the white one. That one she tied to a bench and just sat there. Some time went by, 20 minutes to an hour and the balloon untied itself and went up. She felt her son was letting her know he was still with her.

I believe strongly that both these occurances are truly signs that we are all going to have a lifetime after this lifetime. After we take our last breath we will float and soar like these balloons did. We will find ways to bring comfort to those who ache for us and we will soar to our Creator when it is our time.

Please keep your prayers coming for both of these families.

Cynthiaa Needs Your Prayers

2009-02-11T11:05:00.005-07:00

Today Cynthiaa buries her baby boy. A boy that she carried for nine months. A son that she was ready to hold and love. Just two weeks before her due date she learned that he went to be with the Lord.

Please visit Cynthiaa's blog and offer her your prayers. No mother can ever imagine the pain she is enduring at this time.

Cynthiaa - My heart aches with your heart. May God hold you tight in his arms and may you be comforted in knowing that the same arms that are holding you up are the arms that are cradling your sweet baby Aiden Bug. He is so beautiful. I am so sorry.

Little Aiden is only a breath away. He will always hear you and be embraced with your love. Always.

Lord God I pray that you pour your grace onto Cynthiaa today. I pray that she is surrounded by family and friends that can help to hold her up during this most difficult time. I pray that she finds peace with Aiden's passing and that her eyes are opened to Aiden's everlasting life in your arms, Dear Lord. I pray she is blessed with many dreams of her beautiful son's smile and she will find comfort in knowing little Bug, sweet Aiden is in your arms holding her heart dear and near to his. We only have a short time here in this lifetime, Lord and when we lose someone we cherish it is so hard to understand why. Life is so much more difficult trying to go on without that person. I take comfort in knowing that this life here on this earth is just a blink in time and I will be reunited with my loved ones when you take me, Dear Lord. There will be no meaning of time and I will spend my forever with all the ones my arms just reach for. So I will keep reaching towards them and to You, my Lord until we all can be together again. Please reach out your comforting arms to Cynthiaa today.

With ALL my heart, I pray.

Amen.

Hope. Pray. Love.

2009-02-09T13:21:00.002-07:00

I created this blog with the HOPE of supporting one another during times of need. We all need to PRAY and be prayed for. There are so many untold stories of faith and miracles and super heroes in disguise. I want to experience the LOVE through this blog.

Please come here to share your stories. Stories about faith, miracles, and hope. If you want to pray for someone or you are in need of prayer, please share.

Like our lives in general, this place is a work in progress. I can't wait to see what it will become.

No ads to click, no contests or giveaways. Just faith with a dose of hope, a dash of prayer and a sprinkling of love.

I hope you will join me in reaching out our arms to comfort one another.

Give Me Your Eyes
Brandon Heath

Looked down from a broken sky
Traced out by the city lights
My world from a mile high
Best seat in the house tonight
Touched down on the cold black top
Hold on for the sudden stop
Breath in the familiar shock
Of confusion and chaos
All those people going somewhere,
Why have I never cared?
Chorus:
Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
Ones that are far beyond my reach.
Give me your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see
Yeah
Yeah
yeah
yeah

Step out on a busy street
See a girl and our eyes meet
Does her best to smile at me
To hide what's underneathThere's a man just to her right
Black suit and a bright red tie
Too ashamed to tell his wife
He's out of work
He's buying time
All those people going somewhere
Why have I never cared?

Chorus

I've Been there a million times
A couple of million eyes
Just moving past me by
I swear I never thought that I was wrong
Well I want a second glance
So give me a second chance
To see the way you see the people all along

Chorus (x2)