The Changing of the Seasons

Ever feel like you've sailing along in life and then, all of a sudden, notice that you had a massive shifting of the very ground under your feet? Almost like the kind of earthquake that can completely alter the path of a mighty river or change the polarity of the earth. I knew that this summer would bring about such changes for myself and my family, but I had no way of truly knowing just how different things would be -- and just how different I would be -- by the time the summer began to wind down and we could finally see the start of school and fall on the horizon.

Let me give you a head-spinning timeline so you can see what I've been up to instead of blogging: got married, bought a house, packed up my children and all of our belongings, drove the 2400 miles to our new home, visited R. a couple of times in yet another state while he was working there, settled two separate households-worth of belongings into our new home, got pregnant (!!!), have kids settled into extracurricular activities, been "church shopping", and now R. is home for good. In five months time I went from being a widow and single parent to being an Army wife (again), with kids who seem to have grown up overnight and trying to figure out what being pregnant in my mid-30s is going to be like.

Don't think for a minute I haven't been blogging in my heart this whole time. I have some incredibly precious memories from this summer. My family all gathered for a goodbye meal just before we struck out on our transcontinental drive. Despite how extended family can make you happy and crazy at the same time, I realized as I looked at each smiling face what an important part these people have played in making me who I am, how they have supported my family through thick and thin, how they have grieved alongside me through the really hard stuff. To top it off, my grandmother, recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's, who has struggled with significant health issues over the last year, spoke those blessed words from Numbers 6:24-26 to me as we were preparing to depart. It has been particularly hard to leave her because I know that it could be the last time I lay eyes on her this side of eternity. While I understand that as an adult, the child in me sees my grandmother and doesn't want to let her go. I know as a Christian that this world is not our true home, and if anyone longs for her true home it is most definitely my grandmother, but thinking about my world without her voice, her smile, her laughter in it just shatters me. (As I write this she is actually doing just fine, praise God!)

Leaving my church was no cakewalk, either. I was blessed with the opportunity to serve in so many unique ways with this body of believers. There were so many times when I felt out of place or exasperated with some of the painful things going on there. But through it all, as much as I considered tapping out sometimes, it was God working through some of the people there that sustained me in ways I am only just now realizing and appreciating. Similarly, the friends we visited along our journey are some of the most precious ones I've ever made, and while I have always appreciated how they have gone out of their way to love me through thick and thin, I think I love most how they are so steadfast, unchanging in their friendship and support across the years and the miles. They are all truly Godly women that I adore and admire so much.



I think I have most enjoyed spending time with my children this summer. They are at an age now that they are fun to hang out with AND they still want to be around us! From the long road trip and all of the cool sideshows along the way, to learning how to ride bikes without training wheels and swimming, I have noticed that we've moved to a new season in childhood for them, too. With Bud starting Kindgergarten this year and Li'l G in second grade, they will both be off on the bus each day, off on their own adventures. It makes me miss them being little and needing me more. Their need of me doesn't go away, of course, but it changes as they grow and mature. I think I would rather take the needs of diapers and naps over boy-crazy friends and playground politics, thank you very much, but I digress...

As I was unpacking and putting R.'s things away, my thoughts drifted back to a day that seemed as though it had taken place in another life. I was remembering the day I left the housing quarters I had shared with my late husband and deciding what to do with his socks as I was supposed to be finding room for all of my new husband's clothes in the home we now share. Words escape me to properly describe the feelings flooding through my heart and mind as I thought about what I was doing, what it meant, the path my life had been on to get me from Point A to Point B. There are some days where I literally feel as though I could be living someone else's life, or am dreaming. Don't get me wrong -- we have a very human marriage, very human children, etc., but for me to hear this man introduce me as his wife, to hear the children scream, "Daddy!" at the top of their lungs when he walks in the door, nearly sucks the air out of my lungs each time I hear it. To really contemplate how God has blessed my family and me leaves me breathless.

As amazing as all this is, I can't help but feeling kinda lost somedays. Isn't that weird? I think it is. I know that some of it has to do with the dangerous levels of hormones coursing through my veins these days. "Who am I?" is a question I consider many days. I knew who I was back when I was T.'s widow. But now I add to that identity R.'s wife. My status as a mom has not changed (regardless of what TRICARE says, but that's a whole other story), but now we're having another baby. How will this pregnancy go? What will the family dynamic be like once #3 gets here? Will this baby be healthy? Will I miscarry? I've never been pregnant in my 30s, and things feel a little different this time around, but not too bad. How will my energy hold out for Li'l G and Bud as I progress? Where, oh WHERE will we go to church? Where is the right group with which we will worship? Will PWOC work out this year? Will I ever get to be on a praise band again?...ad nauseum...

Overall I'm not terribly worried about all these questions. I trust that God will answer them in time. Or not, which is in itself an answer. I don't like uncertainty in my life; then again, who does? So many things have changed in our lives in such a short amount of time. Everything I had figured out about who I was and the world around me has been flip-turned upside-down, and once again I find myself untangling the proverbial knot of coat hangers that have been jumbled together after the move. I do know that God created me to exist in community with others, so I am most anxious to find a church home and make new friends. Other than that, I just want to sit back and savor this changing of seasons, in my family, in my heart, in my home, and take it all in.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." -- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Why I Go To The Gym

I walked away from exercise and physical exertion in a gym over 11 years ago after "tapping out" of my college's ROTC program. After only a year of doing hard PT, my joints were blown, I was exhausted, and I was beyond sick and tired of having to tolerate college boys "playing Army" when, in fact, most of them weren't even taking contracts to enter the military after college. I was only too happy to go back to a lifestyle of taking it easy, pursuing academic interests, eating and drinking to my heart's content, and popping out bowling ball-sized babies. Then I became a widow who would eventually have to get naked again and have the self-esteem not to be suicidal when I saw the look on the (un)lucky guy's face when he saw me in all my glory.

This was not the only reason why I decided to re-enter the realm of extreme neurosis physical fitness. I also realized, having recently turned 30, that I was no longer the perky, firm, healthy person I had conned myself into thinking I was. And some of you who know me or have seen me in person are already poo-pooing this and formulating your comments about how silly I'm being, etc. Perception is reality, and I try to be realistic about my age and size. Let's be honest, ladies: after 30, and perhaps children, things are longer and floppier than they used to be. You wake up one day and realize that there are simply some things in life you've got to accept and grow old gracefully. I can't make stretch marks disappear no matter how much CrossFit or P90X I do, or how many disgusting salads I force down my gullet. But I can declare war on poor muscle tone and cellulite!

So, with a couple of cute outfits, an iPod loaded with motivational music for kicking major hindquarters, and some specific workouts R. helped tailor for my needs, I entered the gym, dedicated to make my 30s the healthiest, most active and vital years of my life. Once I figured out how to make my gym experience be something I would look forward to instead of dread, I have to admit I was addicted quickly. I lost weight, and most importantly a lot of body fat, and gained a sense of accomplishment that I could affect this sort of change in my health.

That being said, this is not why I go to the gym.

My gym is fairly small. I like going in the mornings when both of the kids are in school. This is the time of day when the cardio room is full of senior citizens and a few stay-at-home moms. It's a pretty regular group of faces around here. I also started attending a pilates class and have been known to schedule doctor's and hair appointments around this class, as well as my cardio class. Again, a dedicated group of people, mostly women, are part of my regular experience in these classes.

Here is why I go to the gym: the people.

I have seen a young mother of two transform her life, and it motivates me. "Kristen" has gone from being over 50 pounds overweight with congestive heart failure to being toned and fit, lost weight, and a cardio junkie. She has literally bought years back of her life and will be able to see her children grow up, something that was seriously in danger of not happening just two years ago.

I have seen stay-at-home moms come out of their shells and network with one another, allowing themselves to invest in their own physical and emotional fitness to trust a childcare worker with their small children. They realize the importance of having a little "me" time and don't feel guilty for it.

I have seen senior citizens huff and puff at the cardio machines or shake their money makers in the Jazzercise class. As they are helping to fight off things like osteoporosis or heart problems, they are socializing and interacting in the community, reinforcing bonds and friendships that I imagine they've had for decades.

I have seen a friend of mine, who clearly lives with scoliosis, come to pilates regularly and is one of the advanced students in the class. I say "friend" -- I don't even know this woman's name. Upon hearing of my grandmother's surgery later in the day, she took the time to talk to me about her own ailing 90 year-old father and what her family is enduring. Even though we may not know each other's names, we notice when the other is not in class. We have only 5-10 minutes for any conversation, but I could tell you more about her than my next door neighbors.

Another pilates friend, "Linda," volunteers in quite possibly the scariest neighborhoods in Bell County. Upon hearing about my caregiving ministry that I'm researching and trying to develop, she asks if you have to be a member of the church to be involved. This woman has 20+ years of involvement in this type of ministry, and you can't tell me the Lord didn't place us in each other's paths so that we could be establishing a friendship that might prove to benefit ministry and outreach to the elderly, lonely, or needy.

Physical fitness is once again important in my life; however, the gym offers me spiritual exercise all the time. To see God moving and working in the lives of people, meeting everyone where they are and being blessed by the imprint that they make on this world, is something I never expected to see in an environent that smells of rubber flooring and body sweat. No wonder I'm so hooked.

Meet The Chicas

I, like S4J, am having trouble knowing where to start and what all to say. What makes it worse is that, the longer it is since I've gotten home, I'm losing the freshness of all the memories and the high of being in Pennsylvania this time of year. It's taken me several days of working a paragraph at a time to even get this much out! I'd better crank out a couple of these while my brain is still functioning...

I thought I'd take some time to introduce you to the Chicas. Not all are bloggers, although some are. And let me state right off the bat, as to avoid any unforeseen "issues," that I'm not trying to be clique-ish here. I just want you all to find out what I enjoy about each of the '08 girls. With no further adieu, I give you the Chicas of 2008!

As many of you know, this is HisGirl, mommy and blogger extraordinare. She is the fearless leader in the group, our virtual cruise director. I may be the first one to charge into a burning building, for example, because someone said there is a child trapped inside, but His Girl will stop everything and discern a proper and efficient plan of action that is usually a hundred times more effective than bursting through the door. To say she is zany and hilarious is to really not do her justice, and to say that she thirsts for more knowledge of the Lord is the understatement of the year. I'm the cranky Martha trying to make everything just-so and be a good hostess, while she is the focused Mary, sitting at the feet of the King, soaking up wisdom and love that she doles out in generous measures to everyone in her path. And just when you think she's going to tell you to settle down, she does something completely hysterical like get verklempt over homemade fried chicken at an Amish restaurant. She is the Devoted Disciple of the group.

Next comes S4J, my musical partner in crime. I have known her the longest out of all the girls, and is actually the person who introduced me into the group. S4J is also the co-cruise director. She accuses me of being multi-talented just because I have musical ability. This heffer can take photographs that make Annie Leibowitz look like she's using a Dora the Explorer disposable camera, not to mention sing like a profession and even learned how to play guitar on a 12-string! Her sense of humor is just skewed enough for us to be lots of trouble together yet somehow keep her out of hot water. If you were to be stranded on a desert island with the two of us, I'd be the one trying to make a fire. She would be figuring out how to clean the water and sterilize things, after washing her hands, of course. I'd be kvechting about mosquito bites while she'd be singing some silly song about mosquitos being minions of the devil in the most pleasant voice you've ever heard. She would also let you cry tears of frustration until you were completely exhausted. She is our Loving, Looney Listener.

Our next chica is not a blogger, so she doesn't have an online handle. Let's call her... Rebecca Yoder. Or the Weaverton Schoolmarm. Your choice. Mrs. Yoder here is apparently the one we've got to keep our eyes on. She is quiet, gentle, funny, but has started coming out of her shell. She's like a geode: she may appear like your average, everyday stone you might find on a naturewalk, but once you have cracked this stone in half, there are brilliant, spectacular crystalline formations that you would never know was there if you only looked at the outside of the stone. What an unexpected surprise! When I first met RY she was quiet and reserved but always sweet as shoo-fly pie. Then last year in Seattle she surprised me by playing percussion (read: homemade shaker) during praise and worship. This year she pulled the rug out from under us! Not only was it her idea to put a certain someone's chonies on the line for "Jacob Yoder" next door to see, she hornswoggled us into a one room schoolhouse for an encounter with the living dead! (Think the Amish version of "Children of the Corn" and you'd be on the right track...) That sneaky Rebecca Yoder. It's always those quiet ones that you never suspect. That's why she's our Blossoming Blessing.

Here is one of our newest chicas, fresh off the farm. I really think this picture speaks more volumes that you could ever know. Also not a blogger, this new chikkie -- let's call her Bambi Stoltzenfus -- is my SOUL MATE! (OK, like, in a friend-to-friend way, you dirty birds!) It's a rare thing when I meet someone who shares so many qualities of mine. There is another chica who falls into this category, but she was not able to be here for this year's excursion. At any rate, I worried that we I would run her off and make her think we were complete weirdos. Yeah, right! Not only did she fit right in, she helped us take our ridiculous silliness to unheard-of levels. I don't think I've laughed so hard in my life about teaching kids why they need to use handsoap! If you were at a New Kids On The Block concert with her and asked her, in a moment of adolescent stupidity temporary weakness, if you should throw your panties on stage, she'd be two steps ahead of you: she'd unsnap the sides and give hers a toss and look at you like, "Hurry up!" However, I think my favorite thing about Mrs. Stoltzenfus is, in addition to her hijinks and hilarity, she is incredibly grounded and unwavering in her faith. She is the High-Octane, High-Quality Chica.

Meet yet another new chica, Jenster. (She's the one on the left.) Jenster graciously opened her home and hospitality to S4J and myself the night before the other chicas arrived on the scene, and I wonder if she had any way of knowing just what she was getting herself into! Mwaa ahh ahhh!! At any rate, she's funny, sneaky, and can crack the funniest joke you've ever heard while keeping a completely straight face. Two seconds after she's said the most hilarious, snarky thing you've heard in your life, she's overflowing with a wisdom and perception of how real life intersects with scripture and holy relationship that just blows your mind. On top of being a wife, a mother, a breast cancer survivor, and new chica, she is also gifted at speaking and integrating how faith should look in our lives, not how we should talk about what we believe. She is definitely the Deep Waters Chica.


This is our Chikkie. She makes each and every trip with us, in full garb depending on where the Chicas are headed that year. This year she is sporting her plain clothes, reminding us to focus on simplicity and keeping it simple. She may be the quietest member of the group, but her presence is always required in group pictures and ridiculous antics. Part of the fun of going on this trip each year, besides the big "reveal" of where we're headed to next, is to find out what Chikkie will be wearing to coordinate with the new location or theme. Not seen here in this picture is her evil twin, the Dirty Birdie. DB hasn't actually made an official appearance yet on these trips, but her presence is well-known and represented! We try to keep this under wraps, but once you get a gaggle of women together, well, you can imagine how it goes from there!

Lastly, here I am, giving you my best Jacob Yoder impression, trying desperately not to wet my pants with stifled laughter. If you could only know how hard we laughed on this trip, you'd think we would all have ripped abs by now! As for what I bring to the group, that depends on who you ask. Despite what actually ends up transpiring, I attempt to bring music and laughter to the group. I can usually be counted on to say something off-color to get someone to laugh or purposefully get the group charged up and their energy flowing. Which chica would I be, then? I'm just good ol' GGG.

Labor Day

Have you ever made a complete and total ass of yourself? No? OK, good, I was pretty sure I'm the only one who has...

I have spent this Labor Day torn between two activities: watching Hurricane Gustav news and updates like I watched on 9/11 (i.e., obsessively) and laboring over something in my heart.

I'm relieved that Gustav turned out to not be Katrina Part Deaux. (Would that be Katrina, Jr.? Can females be, "Jr.'s?" Who can know...) I think the next few days will be interesting as damage assessments begin to filter in and we get a better picture of actual damage done to the coast. Here's hoping that everyone will continue to do the right thing...

The other activity has consumed both my conscious and subconscious thoughts. It affected my dream last night that woke me with a start and left me with a sour taste in my mouth for most of the day. I know that the person against whom I have sinned does not read my blog; nonetheless, it wouldn't be appropriate to give the gory details thereof. Mainly, it would make me look like a major jerk, but the details are personal, so there you have it.

I knew, before I said the offending sentence, that what I was about to say was waaaaay out of line. I knew that it was going to end up being hurtful, even though I really didn't want to hurt this person. What I really wanted to do was underscore a point I was trying to make that this individual just didn't quite get, and I was getting fed up of trying to be reasonable. I was trying to get their attention and get them to see how frustrating this whole situation was. What resulted was me saying something terrible that cannot be taken back.

Have you ever experienced that minute pause in time when you felt it, where you formed the thought, it traveled to your mouth and rolled in the air between your soft palate and your tongue, which stood poised to project the evil thought into audible history? That split second where your conscience (a.k.a. the Holy Spirit) caught your breath before you pushed right past it in an effort to get your attention before you made a wound that would leave a scar behind, even if it healed?

I plunged right on past all the flashing signals and red lights into a terrible thing to say, and I can't take it back. I didn't really mean it, but it's been said.

I've gone back and replayed this in my mind, from start to finish. The conversation started innocently enough, but once it took a turn, the horses were out of the gate, and there was no stopping them. I apologized yesterday for what I said, and I feel the need to reaffirm my regrets now that I've had a chance to reflect. I don't expect this person forgave me yesterday, and quite frankly I don't know that they ever will. Now I've created this ugly space in the relationship that will bug me for months to come.

A friend of mine from FT Polk introduced this verse to me that I used to lay claim to almost daily, and I think, in light of last night's turn of events, it's worth revisiting:

"Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips." -- Psalm 141:3

The whole psalm is good, but this verse is perfect for those of us who suffer from verbal diarrhea. It's Pepto Bismol for the soul, I guess. (Oh dear, that's just foul!)

Something I've learned about myself through all this is that I'm a selfish, sinful person. I expect everyone I know to care about me, to care about what's going on in my life, my opinions and views on things, help me to think out or solve my problems, etc. I, in turn, want to be there for them. I want to know about what matters to my friends and loved ones, what touches them, what makes them cry, what they struggle with, the tedious details of their everyday lives. Not everyone likes or appreciates a psychostalker friend who acts this way; it's high maintenance. And I've also noticed that I'm not a person that people turn to when they are in need, and that breaks my heart. I've got to be the kind of friend I want to have, but I can't go around pretending I'm someone I'm really not. God has given me certain gifts and sensitivities that others may not have.

I may have jeorpardized this relationship for one stupid collection of words. I know I can ask forgiveness from God and that the sin will be wiped away, but I feel like the penance for consciously stepping outside the boundaries of grace-full living is paid a thousand times over in my heart...

Pit Stop: Home

Well, we have arrived home again from our time in Washington to the disgusting, oppressive heat in the grand ole state of Texas. Can you tell I'm thrilled to be home? There is something to be said for sleeping in one's own bed after a lengthy travel, but it's a bittersweet thing for me this time around. Once again, I'm having to reacclimate to being alone, and I don't like it one bit. My heart is with R. but my mind has got to be plugged in here, and I'm stressed out and distracted. You can imagine how much fun I am to be around right now!

It was a good, memorable experience. Can't really call it a vacation, because that's not what it was intended to be. I've been working on uploading pictures for almost an hour now, going through them and wondering just where the time went and how fast it went by. The kids really handled travelling well, and actually handled the time change better than me, truth be told. I look forward to schlepping them up there again sometime in the not-too-distant future, but with R.'s schedule being full of travel and unpredictability, and kids starting school soon, I'm not sure when that will be. However, we do have a family vacation planned with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents next week, and I'm trying to talk S4J into a mini-chicas this weekend.



Yes, yes, Gretchen and I did have our "MIRL," and it was just the coolest. Picture my personality but putting a "relaxed and groovy," laid-back, wise, funny spin on it, and you've got the Bloggy Queen of the PNW, as I've decided to dub her. Her kids are the coolest, and Big seems like a big sweetie to boot. She was uber-cool about my puky Lil' G and energized Bud, and we even got to enjoy a glass of local wine to top off the afternoon. It was an amazing treat and blessing to get to meet her and experience her heartfelt hospitality. Can someone say Chicas '09?!? haha!!!

I'll get to posting some of the cool pics and giving everyone the run-down in a bit. Got to sort out household/essential things that were deliciously neglected whilst I retreated to the arms of my sweetie, and start preparing for another trip. I have some interesting excerpts from some journaling and just "wow" pics to put up. BTW, keep your eyes open: there is a special event coming up here at GGG's place. I'm even getting my own cool button from HisGirl to kick it off!!! Be sure to check back...

Much love to Gretchen and everyone who prayed for and over this trip, my children, my relationship, my nerves, etc. Please keep those prayers coming. We still have a long way to go, but I know that God is faithful and present and sovereign. Check back soon for the latest updates!!!

Today's Verse: Galatians 6:2

"Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." (NKJV)



'Burden' must be the word of the day for a lot of us out there in the blogosphere. Maybe it's just because several of us are floating around in the same circles, I don't know. I just feel this cry coming up from myself, from humanity, and it just overwhelms me. As I sit here writing this, I can think of no less than four marriages that are either recently divorced or embarking on divorce, two friends who are battling depression tooth and nail, four people dealing with biopsies, diagnoses, and treatments, and so many other hurts and stresses I could probably never remember them all.



I won't get into the 'whys' here. Only One knows the answer to any of those questions anyhow. What I want to say here is this: with all this hurt in the world, I think we could all use for a little less impatience, road rage, and being too insecure to "put ourselves out there." In the immortal words of John Lennon, "All you need is love."

I think of a friend in particular, S4J to be exact. She, among several others but her especially, have really ministered to me over the years. One of her many talents and spiritual gifts is that of empathy. She will literally take on your pain with you and suffer right alongside you. She might not be able to take away your pain, but she will yoke up next to you and slog through the swampy rice paddies of your problems right there with you.

What, then, is the law of Christ? I believe it is this: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that your are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35, NKJV) By being there for each other during these times, we are doing exactly what Jesus commanded us to do. Sweet -- we're killing two birds with one stone! Seriously, no one needs to feel isolated or unloved at any time, much less when they don't know how they will make it another 24 hours through whatever they're struggling with at the time. And I think, if we pay it forward, it comes back to us tenfold.

I want to take a minute to highlight a couple of ministries that I think do just exactly this: Jenster and her amazing crusade through the murky waters of being a cancer survivor just unveiled yesterday a website specifically designed for women who are simultaneously living with cancer and all that comes with it, in addition to mothering a family. Someone saw a need for support in this ever-growing demographic, and now there exists a site where women can come to saddle up next to other women for prayer and encouragement. This new site, just unveiled yesterday, is called Mothers With Cancer. Please take a minute and go visit this site, and please pass it along to help get the word out.

Another group of people that I happen to know personally is HUGSS, Helping Unite Gold Star Survivors. This group of women specifically offer support to those individuals in the greater FT Hood area who have lost a loved one who was in the military, either to wartime loss, terminal illness, accident, or any other imaginable way. Most of the people I have met through HUGSS are similar to me -- young, have kids, widowed. This group does support parents, siblings, and anyone else who has lost a soldier, however. And some of the widows are older than me. Unfortunately, many of them are younger, and guys, I'm not that old. This organization began when one of the volunteers, whose husband is actually still living, began to see close friends of hers widowed and falling through the cracks. She was completely unwilling to allow this to happen. Long story short, HUGSS now has their own building ON POST at FT Hood, we have our own Gold Star parking at the commissaries (grocery store) and PXs, and many other kindness thanks to their activism. Please go visit them here.

(And BTW, if you're wondering what all this "gold star" stuff is about, you can read more about just who is a Gold Star Wife here. Basically, most of you have probably seen a service flag. The star in the center represents your service member. Once that person dies, their star changes from blue to gold, hence the term "gold star.")

Lastly, there is a cool site I have not personally used but have heard of through at least one person. It is called the HysterSisters. It specifically offers support to women going through hysterectomies and follows up with support for not just recovery, but over time. A hysterectomy is so much more than surgery. It can mean loss of feminine identity for some. For others, it can be a second chance at life. Go check 'em out...

In closing, I don't know who sings this version, but I found a great clip on YouTube, as usual, of some mission work in Cambodia, set to the tune of, "They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love." Most of us know without having to talk about it just how mission work, both at home and abroad, falls into this category. So I'll leave you with this...

DEATH BY WHITE STAG!!!

Egads, GGG! Where have you been?? Inquiring minds need to know...!!

Patience, my pretties, patience. Actually, I do appreciate the concerned comments. Mama P, I named this blog especially for you. I nearly fell outta my chair when I read, "Death by White Stag?" What a frightening thought, to meet one's demise in the smarmy, unmonitored dressing "rooms" of one's local Wal-Mart. If there is a God in heaven above, I pray that the Almighty would see fit to spare me such a gnarly demise -- haven't I suffered enough?!?

OK. All joking aside. I'd love to just put out a blanket, "I've been really busy," excuse, but you, the Readership, would have none of that. Let's take a stroll through the past 30 days:

Picture it: Alabama, April 4, 2008. A hot, young widow struggles with the forces of nature and Homeland Security to fall into the strong arms of the Pookie who loves her. (Did I mention how amazingly attractive this girl is?!? I digress...) I spent a weekend having some much-needed Pookie time. We ate, we drank, we ate some more, we went to the Space Museum in Huntsville and saw exhibits and a great IMAX film, "The Miracle of Flight." I felt like I was on a middle school science field trip. It was great. BTW, did I mention that this is where NASA hosts Space Camp for kids??? And did I mention that going to Space Camp was, like my DREAM ever since the space shuttle Challenger's unbelieveable demise?!?!? It was so neat to see all that stuff. Anyhoo, we had a nice, long dinner at a great German restaurant and just had some much-needed down time, for once being in the same zip code.

They also had the coolest OCC Liberty Bike on display (that's "Orange County Chopper," for those not in the know). The whole thing was made out of bronze and had various effects incorporating the Statue of Liberty. Such a cool bike. I'm sure Paulie designed the bike -- such a creative guy!

In addition to being a globe-trotting GGG (does that now make me "4G"??), I have been in full immersion mode for Lay Ministry training. I've been working at getting ahead in my assignments, and as of about 15 APR, I blew a fuse. The material I had to read, especially from, "Where God Meets Man," was so intense and meaty that I ended up limp with exhaustion and nursing a raging headache for three days after I finished reading it. Between the eye strain and the incredible amounts of great information I digested, I just could not function; I went into safe mode.

Let me add some theological insight here: I am learning daily what it means to me to not only be a Christian, but what it means to express that through the denominational affiliation of being Lutheran. Being raised in the Lutheran church is not exactly the most charismatic of experiences. So many of us who choose to attend denominational churches are "box checkers" or conformists, which disgusts me to no end. On the other hand, as I'm growing and reading more and understanding more clearly, I am alarmed and concerned at things that I hear other churches passing off as gospel truth and sound preaching. What is so frightening is that the basic tenets of what they put forth as truth are not fundamentally wrong; however, it is in the fine details that people are not getting a transparent view of our God, our Holy Scriptures, and the world around us. These fine details are most destructive when they become so embedded in the parts that are true that one cannot separate one from the other. My bottomline comes down to these two points: 1) Challenge your beliefs and articulate exactly what you believe as often as you can, and 2) Search out the parts of your belief system that conflicts or doesn't have a clear meaning or explanation to you. How can we offer the Truth of the Gospel to unbelievers and skeptics when our own beliefs don't make sense to us? Do you know basic meanings of the words you use to share the message of the Gospel, so that you can explain what they mean to a person who has no earthly idea what you're talking about??? Just because you read something in the Bible and think it's talking about A, B, or C doesn't mean even you truly understand what you've just read. Question and research what pastors and teachers tell you. We are all human. What they are teaching and preaching should really be driving us to interact with God and the Word for ourselves, praying that the Spirit would reveal truth to us and give us understanding of what we read.

Also, don't just stop there. Take your body and your mind and squeeze yourself into the text and times of our Scriptures. Don't be blindly fundamental or flaky and symbolic. Do the work -- search it out -- open your heart and prepare to have your socks blown off!

And DON'T attend a church because you like the pastor, the music is good, your kids' friends attend the youth group, or the programs are great. Choose your faith community wisely. Don't just look at what one congregation says it believes, although that is hugely important. Look at what the denomination as a whole professes. If they ordain gays and lesbians and you don't agree with it, you might as well start agreeing with it if you decide to attend church there. If they say that Jesus was merely a human who was adopted as God's Son at His baptism (aka Adoptionists) and you don't agree with it, you might as well start agreeing with it. What you hear preached in your church will be impacted by the doctrines of the larger church, so don't think it doesn't matter! And you Non-Denoms, you don't escape this conundrum, either. I think you guys actually have to be even more discerning because you do not have as many affiliations and larger administration covering doctrinal matters. I simply think we've all got to do a lot more looking at the fine print to make sure things are not slipping past us that appear benign but, grain of sand at a time, can build up quickly to be major stumbling blocks on our spiritual paths. OK...sermon is over!

Dateline: 26 APR 08, My town, Texas... TORNADO!!! This is not an actual picture of my neighborhood, but it was the closest thing I could find on Google Images to what I actually saw. Here's how the near-deadly scene unfolded:

Lil' G had a violin recital last Friday evening. She and Bud were bathed, dressed, and waiting patiently on the couch watching "Go, Diego, Go," and I was putting the final touches on my hot self. I mean, it's difficult to improve upon near perfection, but what can I say... Anyhoo, after sprucing up, I was on my way out of my bedroom when I happened to look out my window, which is usually behind the closed blinds by this time of day. I noticed a weird looking cloud and lots of wind. Thinking that the clouds looked awful greenish-grey and that the wind was really churning, I went out to the back porch. The weather sirens were blaring through the town, and I could see a wall of rain headed north and a black wall of clouds headed south. Uh, yeah, we're not leaving for the recital. Amidst the angered cries for Diego, I told the kids to go sit in our "safe place" for bad weather as I checked the local TV station for the latest weather update...

"...Fire Station 2 on XYZ Road has just confirmed a tornado on the ground just west of the high school and coming south across the lake on FM 1234..."

If you could run your fingers over a map of where I live, you would take XYZ Road and drag your finger west of said fire station. Leave that finger there. Take another finger and cross over the lake on FM 1234. The intersection of those two paths leads to, LITERALLY, my backyard. So what do I do? Well, I do what any good Texan does -- I go stand out on the back porch to watch it go by!!! Really, it did not touch down until it was about 3 miles south of my house, so it must not have touched down for too long near me. The bigger story was the SOFTBALL sized hail that commenced afterward. By the time the tornado was well out of our way, I was debating whether or not to load up and still try to make the recital. After all, we still had 15 minutes until it started. No sooner had the thought passed through my pea-sized brain, I heard a strange 'thud' in the road. It came faster and faster. Apparently there must be a girls' softball team in heaven, and boy were they pissed! We had huge hail and heavy rain for 15 solid minutes. On one hand, I was so thankful that my car was inside the garage. On the other hand, I halfway considered backing it out in the driveway -- Lord knows it would've been totalled and I would be sportin' a new ride by now! Oh well...stupid conscience...

Lastly, and possibly more importantly, I've been in a bit of a funk, too. I don't know how I find the time to devote the kinds of energy it takes to really pull this off well, but I somehow manage to do it with flying colors. I'm at a point in my life where my love life and my life with friends -- close female friends -- are both very important to me. I won't expound on my love life here, other than to say that yes, in fact, I do still have one and that it is truly full of love. Perhaps that is precisely what makes being so far away from him so hard. Understanding the "why" behind it doesn't make it any more pleasant to deal with. I live for the few hours a month we get to see each other, and the time we spend keeping in touch in between. I look at where my life was a year ago today, and just gush when I think about where things are now, in this department.

The arena of friendship has been a very difficult pill to swallow ever since I left the security of my former life as a military spouse to the wilderness of civilian life with a military heart. Long distance relationships are hard to maintain, be they between sweethearts or even close friends of any gender. I pine for the days when I could wander in and out of the homes of my friends, meet and socialize, be involved in activities together.

I also feel caught in the middle of two dimensions of existence: domestic goddess and young, single modern woman. The two have almost nothing in common with each other. Domestic Goddess makes Gap and Old Navy cotton look chic. She thrives off of having a clean, organized home, age level-appropriate toys and TV for her children, healthy, balanced meals, sparkling laundry rooms complete with empty hampers, a handle on the ins and outs of running a household and being a homeowner. Young, Single, Modern Woman is focused on what she does, her interests, her hobbies, her health and fitness, how to fill weekends with down time and social interaction, mingling, networking, keeping an open mind in relationships, being well-rounded, etc. I love being a mom. It is the single most important job I've ever had, and my two children are some of the only things in my life I have managed to "do" right. If I died before the end of this post, I would feel like my life finally had meaning once these two beautiful creatures entered into my life. However, I'm not married. I can't always be domestic. I'm young and cute (OK, hot), and having to do the North American DoDo Mating Dance, which is so damned frustrating! (Rewarding yet frustrating at this age...) I'm not divorced, I don't have a husband to complain about, but people who are single don't have to care about being covered in nasty toddler diahrrea 15 minutes after they were supposed to have taken someone to school or showed up at a board meeting. Obviously, I have a hard time discerning what category(ies) I fall into. This translates itself in the friendship arena as trying to figure out with whom I share the most in common. To whom will I feel the closest bond? Will my married friends ever forsake sacred family time to come spend time with a single friend? Is it appropriate to even ask? Who will return the gesture of my friendship? I sit at home every single night, waiting for my evening phone call. When it comes after a night of socializing with friends, I admit I feel so jealous that he can have that outlet and I do not. Don't misunderstand me: I love the domestic side of my life. It's just so complex to weave these two sides together.

I could go on about several of these topics, but I think I've had enough of a bloggy blowout to satisfy some of you for at least a day or two. Things are still good, ever busy, and I can't wait for next week to be over. Bit o' advance warning: don't expect much blogging for another week or so. But I am still here. Steady and sure, as the heartbeat of a newborn baby trying to survive in a world she doesn't understand and in which she feels completely vulnerable all the time...

"Retell" Therapy

I've admittedly been out of the loop these days, fighting sinus infection #4 (counting since late October 2007), throwing a bridal shower for my cousin, starting my venture into the swampy pit of serving on church council, baking goodies for snacks at Sam's school this week, *attempting* to sing at church on Wednesday night, etc... Who out there is old enough to say and really mean, "Calgon, take me away?!?"

To pick up where I left off last week, I sent the kids out of town to have some quality time on the farm with my in-laws, who BTW are some of the sweetest people I've ever known and love dearly. There was some drama, as usual, about this bridal shower, however. My mom, my sister, and I were co-hosting this shower to help my cousin fill her needs for the kitchen. This all started from sitting down and going through cookbooks at the beginning of the year with my mom, and we came across a recipe for Lime Sherbert punch. We got to laughing about how bridal showers used to be so predictable. Every shower that was done up properly always had this frothy, limely concoction along with finger sandwiches and bowls filled with mints, nuts, etc. So we settled on a "vintage" theme for this shower. I thought that the coolest thing for a party favor would be to make waist aprons like my grandmother used to wear out of some old-fashioned looking cloth, and since I sew I figured this would be so cool and easy to do. Long story short, I looked on eBay for some vintage kitchen-themed fabric and found authentic vintage kitchen waist aprons! Not only that, there were two dozen on there, and that was approximately how many people we were expecting! Yes, Lord, this was clearly meant to be! Or was it...??


So I found out, after winning the auction for said aprons, that they would not be shipped until 1 FEB. They were coming from New Jersey, and I didn't know if they would get here in time, so I won some more off of eBay. Oh, did I forget to mention these were coming from CANADA?!?!? Yeah, not only that, but it was supposed to take 2-3 WEEKS to clear customs and be delivered. But God is good, and I thought, 'You know, Lord, it would be really cool if You could just magically make these aprons show up on my doorstep in time for the shower! So if You could just get right on that little detail, that would be grrreeaaaaat..." As if!


All of last week flew by, and not a blessed sign of these #$!!$^@&@ aprons. As I was flying through the house taking care of last minute details about an hour before guests were to begin arriving, DON'T YOU KNOW THOSE SUCKERS SHOWED UP!!! AND ON MY DOORSTEP, TOO!!! Hand-delivered by the mail-lady! Yes, God is still on the throne and sovereign over all, even smelly old aprons! hahahahaha!!!


Saturday afternoon, as the ladies were oohing and aahing over all of my cousins's gifts, I began to notice that my voice sounded like Joe Cocker all of a sudden, and due to the sinus infection I was coming down with, I was also developing laryngitis. Sweet. I got in to beg for drugs early on Monday and was enforcing "voice rest" so that I could sing on Wednesday night. It is a rare thing that I get to simply sing and not be playing an instrument at church, and our Lenten services are really special. Unfortunately, I sounded like a bull moose for most of it! But at least I was able to remotely participate.


Despite how busy the last few weeks have been, I have started noticing how I am needing to focus on my health and stress level. I need to be a good steward of my health, not just because God has blessed me with relatively good health, but also because my kids need to see me modeling this behavior, and they need me to be playing my "A" game. We were doing this contemplative prayer exercise at church on Sunday (What?!? Lutherans doing contemplative prayer?!? DURING CHURCH?!?!?), and the word that came to me is "rest." God is rest. Rest for my body -- I need to slow down and take care of myself. Rest for my soul -- He is the only One Who could possibly know what I am going through in my heart, day in and day out. I may feel alone in a crowd, but He sees, He is El Roi. I have always seen God as a Father in whose arms I can cuddle up when I am too tired to go on. The One who will not judge me for being angry or sullen or anxious and will comfort me in a soul-soothing way. I have been under a lot of stress lately, and it wasn't until I spoke to a friend the other day whom I haven't spoken with in several months that the floodgates just opened up. I don't know if she shares the same spiritual views that I have, but I know that God had something to do with that phone call. She really ministered to me in a way that few people are able to do because of her personal, repetitive experience with loss. At the age of 31, she has lost both of her parents, two of her grandparents, and countless other close relatives. In fact, the running joke between us is that, if I haven't heard from her in a while, it means no one else in her family is dead. Morbid, yes, but that's how we roll...! She just happened to call me on a particularly hard day, but her words were to me like a warm washrag on a scraped knee. She got right to the heart of the matter, wiped away the dirt and the grime of the painful emotions I was going through to expose the wound, and then left me in a position to be more receptive to the healing process, to properly care for the wound so that it heals completely with a minimal scar. Yes, there will always be a scar, but it won't be the first thing you notice about me.


So many things going on in my life and in my heart these days! R.'s movers are packing his household goods even as I type these words. He will say "aloha" to Hawai'i next week and will spend his 2 1/2 week layover spending time with the kids and me until he's off to Alabama. We haven't seen each other since New Year's Day, and it feels like the time has stretched on forever. Bud turns 3 on Saturday, and I look at him, wishing Tom could have seen what a tender-hearted, rambunctious little boy he's becoming. My baby is no longer my baby, and it breaks my heart in such a wonderful way to watch him grow. Oftentimes I watch him and Li'l G during the crazy days and think about how many times my mother-in-law must have changed Tom's diapers, read him stories, wiped his cruddy nose, watched him learn and grow. Would the days have seemed more precious had she known that he would die so young? I look at my kids and wonder, due to how Tom died, if the same situation could be in their futures. I know that sounds absolutely horrid, but his situation was an inherited condition, and I can't ignore that. But I also won't allow it to keep them from living, from being vibrant and experiencing life to its fullest. It's a function of loss and grief to be sure, but it doesn't get me down for the most part.


Now I've just got to brace myself for the toddler birthday party next weekend... a dozen 3 year olds at the Inflatable Funland -- oh joy...

Bienvenue a Louisiane

I travelled back to the Pelican State this past weekend for the first time since I moved to Texas in the summer of 2006. Upon seeing the sign greeting me as I crossed the Sabine River into Louisiana, I had such a bizarre sense of deja vu. I had made this trip, quite literally, in my sleep so many times before; yet, there was a sense that this was a completely different trip, unique and heretofore never experienced. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the road had been repaved (usually a sign that you have crossed from the Promised Land, a.k.a. Texas, into the Seventh Circle of Hell, a.k.a. Louisiana). Other than that, I felt like I was in a time warp, zipping through the time-space continuum in Bill and Ted's gnarly telephone booth.

I was excited and anxious about going on this trip. Excited to reunite with dear friends, sisters of the truest sort, and anxious about how I would react to being at FT Polk again. What would be the same? What minute differences would there be? Knowing what I know about this part of the country, the locals fight tooth and nail against any progression other than that of the pine trees, spanish moss, and underbrush. I braced myself for any myriad of emotions and experiences as I rolled into Vernon Parish.

As I should've known all along, any gathering which is centered on God and celebrating His gifts in your life is going to be just one step short of getting to peek behind the curtain of Heaven. We stayed first with J. and then barged into S.'s home. Let me pause here to say this much:

J. is truly a mirror in which you see the heart of Christ. When I was left all alone a week after Tom died to begin my life as a household of three, J. came and stayed with me. She listened as I just talked about him, cooked dinner for me, and truly loved and prayed me through every single day of my life since November 30, 2005. She is one of my sources of accountability, intercessory, and fellowship, and is one of the closest friends I've ever had.

S. is the Proverbs 31 woman, the wife and mother I long to be but feel I will either never have the chance or the ability to be. She, too, has come alongside me and cared what I was going through when most others kept me at arms' length. Teamed up with her sweet hubby, she has been consistent with her love and support and words of encouragement, and she, too, has lifted me in prayer more than I'll ever know.

I could give you the play-by-play for the entire five day excursion. But the bottomline was that the weather was cold, the homes were cozy, my friends were warm and inviting, and being back in town was like reuniting with an acquaintance that you didn't realize was actually your friend all along. God took the potential for emotional disaster and instead weaved it into a tapestry that captured all of the blessings that this place was for me during a chapter of my life. It was another important step into my future to retrace steps from my past.