So what?!?!

After a very long day, I am emotional and need to spill. A week and a half ago, my doctor found a lump....not unusual in my family, but still scary. I've done a lot of soul searching and I realize now where my fear lies. It is not with any discomfort, illness or death for me - it is for my girls. I know that my future holds no fear, no illness, no pain, no tears, nothing but joy. Praise God for this. But my Cassie and Regan...the thought of them not having a mom, even as crazy as I can be, is horrible. I know that two sets of amazing grandparents and all of the aunts and uncles would take care of everything, but I don't want to miss it. I want to be Mommy, I want to be there for my girls through everything. I don't even want to miss all the crazy hormonal ups and downs. I was told today that an ultrasound wouldn't be needed if there was nothing of concern on the mammogram. (I should clarify that I had a full mammogram less than 7 months ago.) I call my doctor because this doesn't sound right, since I was sent specifically for the ultrasound. So we go through a LOT of confusion and finally get a few images of the side in question. I'm set to the side for a while, then taken back for another image (onset of fear/nausea). Then told I'm headed to ultrasound (full-blown YIKES). I stare at the screen the entire time. My only experience with ultrasound is with a beautiful baby girl growing inside of me. Now I'm looking at what seems to be Jaba the Hut. As usual, I speak my mind and make the technician laugh. Then I ask her how she is able to keep a straight face when she sees something that is obviously bad. I jabber like crazy....wonder where Regan gets it? I watch the measurements she records on the screen, noting 7mm at one point. I was thinking that they seem so much like the first images of my girls, but there's no whoosh-whoosh of their little hearts beating in the background. God has strengthened me so very much in the past year. He has given me the strength to stand my ground, fix my mistakes, restore my faith, restore my family and shown us all He can do in a storm or crisis. He has placed His people all around us. He has shown my girls just what it means to be His servant, to be His hands and feet. His people have blessed us, served us, prayed for us and helped us in every way possible. I pray that we can and will pay that forward. I have felt a love and joy that I never knew could exist in the past few weeks. I can't thank God enough for what He has brought my way. I have even surprised myself in the lack of complaining, being a negative person. He is proving yet again that He has the ability to change anything. I pray that I can continue in this positive path and see His work in all that happens. So if you see or hear me complaining, smack me and tell me how blessed I am!

2 years ago

I have spent the past few days confessing and apologizing to God, family, neighbors and friends for lying. This week has been difficult, as it marks the anniversary of a very difficult part of my life. The realization has made me feel like I just can't keep my mouth shut. Two years ago this weekend, I experienced one of the lowest points of my life. I looked my Mama in the eye and lied to her about it. I looked Daddy in the eye and lied to him. I looked my neighbors and friends in the eye and lied to them. I avoided and deflected the few people that knew the truth, the ones that pulled the Corvette off of a tree and out of a yard. I avoided God, I lied to myself. For those that didn't know, I told them I was in the car when it hit the tree. That the accident was where all the bruises, concussion, permanent facial nerve damage, partial loss of sense of smell and taste came from. I can't even count the times people have told me that they would have never imagined that anything was wrong, I always seemed so happy, how I couldn't possibly hide this, we seemed like the perfect couple, this doesn't happen to a woman with my strength. So, if you're reading this and you really know me (or thought you did), I owe you an apology, too. I had become one of those people that I am not fond of - the ones that put on the happy face for social media and the public. I was no longer transparent and honest with anyone, especially myself and God. I covered up reality with lies and a fake smile. All of that being said, I have experienced such wonderful blessings lately. I have 'leaned into Him', as my sweet prayer warrior friend instructed. After over 6 years of avoiding God and my prayer life, I have diligently been prayer journaling for 6 days straight. This may not seem like much to some of you, but for me it is life-altering. As I tend to go on ADD rabbit trails in thought, I choose to journal and use the ACTS method of prayer. A stands for Adoration - praising God for one of His wonderful attributes. C stands for Confession - honestly confessing your sins, even thoughts. T stands for Thanksgiving - recording what and who you are grateful for in your life. S stands for Supplication - praying for others and yourself. This week has been eye-opening for me as I've realized just how much I have to be thankful for. I have two amazing daughters, a wonderful family, a home, a plethora of friends and the best neighbors you could ever ask for. My girls and I are safe and happy, we are at ease for the first time in years. Are there fears, doubts, regrets? You betcha. But that's where the confession part comes in. Daily, I hand these over to God and fully know that He's got this and He's got us. His people are lifting us up, my girls know Him and I have turned back to Him. Now we move on to allowing Him to heal us in His way, to teach us what He has to teach us and become the Proverbs 31 women He intended us to be. God's plan may not always be what we want, but it is definitely better than what we could ever come up with. For now, my first daily supplication is that His will be done, not mine...because my will cannot be trusted.

Real people

So I love the result of a couple of glasses of (white trash) box cabernet and the thought process attached to mutilating my caveman cuticles. I've been spending a ton of time lately thinking about the people that I've allowed into my life. There's a definite pattern. I'm a fan of real. I'm a huge non-fan of fake. I've been fake. I was fake for most of my young life, always trying to people-please, fit the mold. Why do we do this? And why in the world would someone do this as an adult...as a parent? I found my reality somewhere around 2001. I stopped trying to be what everyone wanted, what everyone expected. This was probably the end of a marriage...but the beginning of my TRUE life. I found Christ, I found a faith, reality...and people that were REAL. They walked the walk. They accepted my shortcomings, they confessed their own. TRANSPARENCY. This is a must for the people I seek to be part of my life. I have this in spades in so many friends. The friends that cry with me over the 'variances' in our children. The friends that I can honestly spill my guts to over my failings as a mother. The few that with I share my fears and honest opinions. A huge annoyance for me? That person that changes their personality, their tone of voice, the octave of their voice, pretty much everything about themselves when someone new appears on the scene. I don't need chameleons. I have enough in my yard. Joy for me - meeting someone that seems prim and proper, then discovering that they have more of a gift of sarcasm than I. My beautiful princess friend that struggles every day to keep her crown on straight. The friends that can share their therapists' names with me and the medications that have helped them through if needed. Reality is not always joy. But my real friends? They are a joy...always.

Friends

Friendship - such a foreign concept to me just a few short years ago.  As an Air Force brat, we moved around every 3 years.  I don't have that true 'home town' thing that most do.  Some regrets there, yes. But there is also the fact that I could speak fluent French at the age of 8.  Don't ask me to try now, you'll just get the average hello, how are you, goodbye, a few vulgar phrases maybe :)  So the folks 'retire' (and I use this phrase loosely) outside of Smithville, Texas.  Needless to say, culture shock!  Going from a 6th story flat on a main drag in Brussels, Belgium to Rosanky, Texas rocked my 10 year old world.  I gained a few friends quickly, those like me - the ones on the outskirts, the ones not born & bred there, I want to use the term 'the untouchables', but that seems a bit harsh. 
Fast forward...I high-tailed it out of Smithville as fast as I could after high school, thinking it was the source of  problems, my heartbreaks.  I ran around like a gypsy for 12 years - Austin, Annapolis, Houston.  After moving to the Houston area in May of 1990, I moved 11 times within 8 years.  Seeing a pattern here?
So I move to Houston, I focus my life around 'the guy of the moment' and never acquire any true friends.  Then in early August 2001, I found a body of believers that changed everything.  I started going to a women's bible study and discovered that there are women out there that are different.  These women want to make the world a better place - for themselves, for their husbands and for their children.  One month later, that world was turned upside down, and I truly had God to turn to for comfort.  I had been baptized at the age of 12, but don't think I had a clue what it was all about.  Fast forward 3 years, a little upheaval due to ex-husband issues, and a brand new baby.  My sweet friend, Beth Moore, coerced me into trying MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers).  My first question to her was, "If I hate it, can I get a refund?".  I quickly discovered that MOPS was my life saver.  I found true girlfriends and mentors that have been there for me through the best and worst of times.  I quickly jumped in with both feet and joined the steering team.  MOPS was my passion - a place for moms who are lost, scared, feel all alone.  My goal was to let every mom know that we all make these same huge mistakes.  I craved transparency from other women and strived to be transparent for others.  We are not all the 'Betty Crocker', the 'June Cleaver'.  We all lose are patience, we all want to run away, we all get fed up with the man in our life. 
MOPS led me to a play group, which I also fought...of course.  My very first trial outing brought my sweet Baby Mama, Jody Kay, into my life.  I realized that there are women out there that actually discipline their children, so I don't feel like I need to pull my hair out in their presence.
I don't even know where to begin with my mentors.  Mama/Miss/Grandma Betty - where would I be without her?  In her sweet beautiful way, she lifted me up, held me accountable (or tried to), supported me, loved on me, loved on my babies, hooked me up with her uber-wise lawyer daughter, Marilyn.  Miss Beverly, who I pray for, love, cry over.  My Women's Pastor, Brenda, who I am so like - compassion is not our forte, but we can attack a problem like a school of pirhanas.
Then there are the neighbors, Titi (aka Kristi), Elise, Becky, Jackie and Jenny.  The women that hang with me in 'The Low Spot' (my front yard), the women that see the day in/day out, the women that I cry or rejoice with.
There are the few 20 year plus friends, Dana (poot), Stephanie, the girls from work (the ones you love one day and hate the next), some beautiful down to earth Smithville area ladies. 
I have my regrets over friendships.  A friend moves a few miles away - we lose touch.  A friend moves an hour away - we lose touch.  My Baby Mama moves a million miles away....I fear we lose touch.  A new season of life comes along unexpectedly, suddenly my world again revolves around 'the new man' rather than the people that have lifted me up for so long.  At 11:00 p.m., I think, "I need to call so and so".  A little late, don't you think?  I crave the time during the day to accomplish this.  I crave the brain function to remind me at a normal hour.  I pray that these precious women know how much they mean to me.  I pray that they know how many jewels they have added to their crown by lifting up this poor, lost soul in good times and bad.  I pray that I can be there for them in the best and worst of times.  I pray they know how much I love them.

Cherish His gifts

There are so many things to say about Jody Kay.  I'm sure that one blog about her will never suffice.  I've just read the most beautiful blog she wrote:  http://becausehesaidyoutoo.blogspot.com/2011/07/his-toe.html#comment-form .  Her writing is beautiful, almost as beautiful as she is, inside and out.  Jody Kay is one of the most incredible people you could ever hope to meet, and being part of her life is a blessing.  Many, many people can attest to this.
When I met Jody, I never imagined we would become so close so quickly.  She was wearing one of her famous do-rags and was larger than life.  I left that playgroup date and went on about my life, never giving it another thought.  Shortly thereafter, she began stalking me (at her own admission). 
Praise God for that stalking.  Fast forward through mom's nights out at her house, camping at Yogi, gym dates, hundreds of oh-so-happy kids in her presence, Rock Band in the man cave, a very interesting girls' weekend at GrandMom & GrandDad's with vanilla vodka and Ollie the owl, too many good times to remember. 
Then came an early morning call to her in October 2008 for her help.  She and Michelle cleaned my house, stayed with me, kept me sane.  Fast forward again through months of prayer, support and the 'suck it up' attitude that I needed.
Jody Kay was with me when Regan was delivered.  This is why she is dubbed my Baby Mama.  She took charge of everything that needed to be done, all while singing sweet songs to Regan.  Super Gramps talks all the time about how Regan stared up adoringly at her while she sang. 
I miss that beautiful voice.  I wish I had video of her singing to Regan and singing karaoke at their going away party.  Jody's voice is a God-given gift that should be shared with the world.
Jon & Jody have moved to a galaxy far, far away, obeying God's will for their family.  It feels like part of my heart has been ripped out.  I know that He will use them mightily, but my stingy, selfish nature wishes they were still here, close enough to hug & smooch.  I sit here boo-hooing as I look through photos.  I miss my Jody Kay.  Only one person on this earth knows more about me than she does.  It is hard to find someone you can trust that much.

I pray that you have a Jody Kay in your life.  If you don't, find one.  Open your heart to the most unlikely friendship that might just change your life.  If you do, cherish them...let them know.

Fragile

What precious gifts we are given every day. 

I cannot count the number of times that Bryan has compared us to Adam and Cynthia in the past few days.  Before we came out to 'Mitland' (as she jokingly called it) last summer, he told me about their story.  Though they both experienced pain and suffering in their past, they found their way to each other.  Their true adoration of one another was apparent.  Even when Cynthia was telling Adam how it was, waggling her finger in his face, you could see that twinkle in her eyes.  He worshipped the ground she walked on.  Cynthia's family sings Adam's praises, knowing he was the perfect man for her and how he honored her.

My mind keeps wandering down these paths regarding regret and fear. 

So many times, we miss out on amazing opportunities because of fear.  We would rather stay safe and stagnant in our little coccoon.  Cynthia and Adam took a leap of faith, opened their hearts to someone, risking pain.  Because of that, they had a short time of happiness.  I found somewhere that the bible has the phrase 'fear not' 365 times, one for each day of the year.  God knows what we need, sometimes we just need His push.  When I think about taking a leap of faith, these lyrics come to mind: 'What if you jump and just close your eyes?  What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?'

Then we move on to regret.  The ones we hurt the most are the ones we love the most.  Misunderstandings can snowball into horrible situations, tearing friendships and families apart.  We, as prideful humans, find it so difficult to let bygones be bygones, to forgive.  A few weeks ago, Tiffany and I had a great lunch together.  She is in the phase of her recovery where she is making amends.  We talked about the things that had frightened me, we had some laughs and it was done.  All of this is making me think that it would be a great idea, for me personally, to do this at least once a year.  Of course, I'm such a non-confrontational person (read: chicken), that I would have to do all of mine in writing.  Talking through ugly crying is not easy for me.  All too often, we find ourselves in a situation where we don't have the opportunity to say goodbye, much less I'm sorry.  How painful to be stuck in that situation.  I've been going through my mental rolodex, searching for anyone that I need to reach out to.  Of course there is always Jason, he's at the forefront.  But there are others, much more minor grievances, but things that need to be set right.  And if they can't be set right, at least the apology needs to be made.  In the light of eternity, what does it matter who was right?  One of my glaring faults is that I hold onto my anger, my resentment, my hurts.  I will save emails, texts, letters so that I can whip them out at a later date and say, 'Look!  See?  This is what they said right here!'  My need to be right and to prove it to others can overwhelm me.  Obviously this is something that I need to work on.  How to go about that, I don't know.  But once all of this is over, I plan to sit down with my oh-so-patient husband and talk to him about it.

One of my favorite verses that kept popping up during my most chaotic time of life:
You number my wanderings;
Put my tears into Your bottle;
Are they not in Your book?
 - Psalm 56:8
It brings me great peace to know that God sees every tear I shed, knows every hurt I experience.  I imagine Him wincing like I do when one of our babies is hurt or sad.  I've been praying this verse over Cynthia's family all day.  I pray that He would somehow bring them peace during this time.

I hadn't seen Cynthia in over 20 years before last summer.  I confessed to Bryan that I was petrified to see her again.  I remembered her as 'Rocky', the super-tough girl that EVERYONE was afraid of.  As it turned out, we clicked immediately.  One of my favorite all-time memories is of the weekend we flew out here to pick up Adam's bike.  Bryan was amazed when I told him that she and I had shared some tears.  He told me that he couldn't remember ever seeing her cry.  Of course, she had been telling me about what Memaw and Pawpaw meant to her and what they had done for her during that conversation.  Cynthia loved her family, she would have fought tooth and nail for any one of them.  I'm thankful for the tiny bit of time that I had with her and I'm thankful that she was so encouraging when I started riding.  Cynthia was a very strong woman in so many ways.  I have a vision of her up there telling God (with her finger waggling in His face) that she needs to be placed on the front line fighting The Evil One.  None of this floating around playing a harp business for her!

Big Daddy

Let me tell you about Jon....
I have a couple of men in my life that I call Big Daddy.  Jon is one of them.  To qualify for Big Daddy status, you must be exactly that - an amazing dad.  Among Jon's many qualities, he is definitely that.  I feel like he would give his life for not just his own children, but for any child.  My Baby Mama and Big Daddy have been on my mind a lot lately, abandoning me and all.  But yesterday I received a call from the Hartford PD, checking Jon's references.  So of course I thought about Jon a ton yesterday.  At the end of a very humorous phone call, the officer that called asked me if I could think of anything negative about Jon that they might need to know.  That one threw me for a loop.  I sat in silence wracking my brain to think of ANYTHING that might be even remotely negative.  Not that I would have shared with the Hartford PD, but it surprised me that I could think of nothing.  I finally answered with, 'Yeah, the punk moved away.' 
So this brings me to the point of all of this.  There is one very vivid memory of Jon that I've never shared with him.  I know that I never would be able to verbalize it well enough for two reasons. 1.  No words could ever explain the emotion involved in this.  2.  I would break down in a sobbing pile of goo if I tried to say it aloud. (And yes, tears ARE running down my cheeks as I type.)
Shortly after my world blew up in my face, Jon & Jody's baby girl, Dylan, was born.  I was 4 months pregnant with Regan and of course an emotional wreck.  I sat outside the aquarium-like nursery area with Memaw Lynn, watching Jon adore that precious baby right after her birth.  The look on his face, in his eyes, as he gazed upon his daughter was magical.  The way he touched her, then held her, was how one would handle the most fragile of treasures.  I had to turn away from watching him and choke back my sobs on that bench.  I didn't know what God held in store for me, but I prayed then and there that He would provide a true daddy like that for my girls.
I love you, Jon. I appreciate the husband and father that you are for my second family, for the husband and father you were for us during our trial.  Thank you for being the model for what I desired in my future.