Happy Halloween

This weekend Nate and I had a wonderful weekend celebrating Halloween, not something that we rarely do since it’s considered a fringe holiday to our evangelical circles. Friday night we were able to borrow the daughter of our dear friends Doris and Andrew and we spent an evening trick or treating at the local Science Station. As soon to be parents, it was fun to have Gabriella and watch her three year-old reactions. First she was terrified of the strange looking people, making her shake visibly. I briefly worried about causing the poor thing permanent trauma but she quickly got accustomed to the situation and even befriended a nearby clown. I don’t know who had more fun, Gabriella or Nate. Nate’s known Gabriella since she was born but there is something amazing about seeing your husband being so tender to someone so little. As we ended the night she became aware of the candy in her possession but we asked her to wait until we returned home to her parents supervision. (I didn’t want to be the one to return the child complete with sugar-high) I am pleased to announce she was incredibly obedient, waiting at least until the car pulled in the driveway. This was by definition home and so there was no protesting as she dove into her stash. I had to smile when she handed me a tootsie roll, with a bite out of it, wrapper and all. On Sunday we had another chance to celebrate when Krissy and Scott joined us for the day. We had a wonderful brunch after church stuffing ourselves so much that we had to invite them back to relax for awhile, since all of us were feeling incredibly sleepy and the rainy weather didn’t help. Before we knew it we became fully committed to several Halloween inspired TV shows, thoroughly scaring ourselves silly. I normally avoid every thing scary but it was incredibly funny as we yelled at the characters that went off by themselves and so on. But at the end of the night I was definitely glad I had Nate to curl up next to. I think scaring ourselves like that is something we may only do once a year (at best) and its always much better when you don’t have to go to sleep alone.

Streams in the Desert

“A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” Proverbs 25:11

This morning I woke with praise in my heart, worship just seemed to pour forth from my soul. I wish I could say this was a regular occurrence in my life but for today it was such a sweet discovery. I am discovering how amazing it is to be loved, truly and deeply, nourishing me beyond hurts I didn’t even know I had.
Many of you have noticed my sudden silence and I am touched by your concern and amazed that you look in on me here, sharing my life and my words. It’s an incredible gift to give a writer, to know that someone takes the time to read your scribbling. So to you I will admit shamefully that, as of late, writing, one of my greatest joys, has been an unspeakable burden. I just finished another round of revisions on my baby (at least my first child.) This time around my wise and patient editors have urged me to go deeper into my experience exposing the vein of truth and honesty that I have never breathed to a living soul, let alone to the pages themselves. They, my editors, deserve my thanks though if it wasn’t for this project I am sure I would have glossed over the many deeper levels that are so important to healing. And I honestly believe anger is such an important part of healing. But I admit I doubt if I would have ever gone there willingly. In fact, I have been kicking and screaming every step of the way. The first time I felt the Lord urging me to write about my experiences I fought hard. I didn’t want to do it, I couldn’t do it, it would mean unwrapping the many layers of a present I didn’t want in the first place.
This last month, as I sat with my manuscript in my lap, I could feel the air rushing past my ears as I was sucked back in time. Back to the darkest days of my existence, I am no passive observer, simply recording the events; instead every part of me is transported back in time. And I am amazed at how exhausted and incapable of life I am like this, like a lump of flesh unable to contribute to my world. But this isn’t my world, not now; today my world is filled with hope, kindness, and security. Except for the day’s I need to write, then I am a prisoner to my past and this makes me angry. My life no longer resounds with the death knell of despair but like a diver I gasp for breath and plunge into the depths of a pain that seems to consume my world even when my world has moved on. The moral of the story is I plan to write children’s books for a while after this, or at least non-fiction. Like a battered soldier I am licking my wounds, and healing, praying my unborn child isn’t permanently damaged by the feelings I have been stewing in. But today is different, today is sweet last night my husband and I took an impromptu trip to visit family leaving just after work and returning in the wee hours of the morning. And I loved every minute of it. As our conversation weaved and wandered my sweet husband would tenderly slip profound compliments into his comments. These observations have had such a powerful effect on me nourishing hurts I had no idea I had until he spoke kindness into the subject. For me its an amazing experiences that someone could find anything good in my soul while I have been so introverted and immersed in my own suffering. Despair is selfish, robbing us of others and forcing us to see only our own wounds. Like a breath of fresh air this man that I admire and respect was attributing me with worth and virtue. Truly love is the greatest healing power of all and I am honored to share my life with such a Godly and sensitive man.

Unexpected Inspiration

I am in the final hours of my manuscript and I am in desperate need of inspiration.
Stumped and frustrated I flipped on the tv, something I avoid like the plague when I am in writing mode, so feeling defeated but I immediately was glued to a show on HBO. It was a real life story about teenagers who were in drunk driving accidents, however it was all about brain injury accident victims.
Just as background for anyone who doesn’t know, I am writing a book about loosing my former fiancé to a brain injury about four years ago. I was stunned, so many of these young people do have permanent damage but their experience was so different than ours. Before Jared I knew nothing about brain injuries, but the more I learn the more angry I get. Seeing other people recover, it’s amazing, I have never seen that before. I am really angry especially because some of these kids have gone back to drinking! I see how lucky they are and I understand that even though they are frustrated they can WALK and TALK and most are returning to a normal life. To this day Jared needs round the clock care, he was completely non-responsive for two years, today he is blind and unable to talk but with wonderful therapy he is able to sign some communications although its sometimes difficult to gauge how much he understands conceptually. Jared’s personality shows through and I am thankful that he can live at home and still receive care. I still get angry because I feel we were filled with false hope but I can’t blame anyone for believing in Jared. Today I was reminded of so many emotions I’d forgotten and I hope I can write something that will minister to others who feel lost.

Hmmmm

"So what exactly are roots?" My husband asked me when I was complaining that I needed to get my hair colored because my roots were showing. Try describing roots to a person, it was harder than I thought.
“Huh, he replied satisfied, “I always wondered about that.”
This was one of the few times that my husband and I realize we are different colors. Occasionally we discuss his Chadian culture but since he has spent so little time there we both feel like we’re learning together. Most of our differences have just been learning to live with a person of the opposite sex. It just makes me smile because I did the same thing to him days after we were married. On our honeymoon we were scheduled to go sea kayaking and headed to Wal-Mart to pick up an assorted supplies like a pair of shoes we could trek through water in. Also on the list was sun block, something I rarely use, but decided would be a prudent investment. As we stood in the sun block aisle, I was getting frustrated that I couldn’t find a mild sun block, seems like everyone is worried about cancer these days. (before you judge me its been clinically proven that people with more pigment in their skin have less of a chance of getting skin cancer, and I rarely burn) Pressed for time I was getting frustrated that Nate was just standing there. “Could you help me find like a 15? “I asked flustered. He looked at me blankly for a moment and said. “A 15 what?” It hit me like a ton of bricks. He had no idea what I was talking about. Thus began a mini lesson about white skin care. Now that we have a child on the way these little tid-bits are even more important. A least it amuses us!

Uncommon valor

I seem to have lost the ability to post pictures for the time being. Something about not having the right program even though I know I have been using it faithfully in the past. I was grumbling to Nate about this recently as I do all my computer problems.
“Well if the website would just work, like its supposed to.” I ranted.
“Then I would be out of a job.” My husband, the MIS major reminded me playfully. Somehow he always ways manages that patient perspective. I guess I can wait and be thankful even for computer malfunctions.