Fight Club

The other day I promised to tell you about my love letters.  I have written and re-written about them at least six times.  The concepts churning in my heart have gone in a dozen directions and nothing seemed complete.  I had the sense that I had yet to take the end-of-quarter exam, although the week had ended.  I actually took notes about Sunday through Saturday and the incredible love that I was shown.  I was surprised by the extraordinary examples and blessed to note the ordinary examples.  

Then came Sunday, again.
  

The morning started out as usual. I have started making it a habit of not only attending church, but going early for a class as well. I am the "baby" of the group, which I love, and the people have proven themselves to be genuine. 

The church I've been attending is seven miles away so I decided to multi-task by calling my dad on the way.  My parents have been on my mind heavily lately, for various reasons, and it had been a few days since I checked in with them.  Mom answered Dad's phone and told me he'd have to call me back.  He had spent the whole night awake, in pain.

The previous week we had been together in Arkansas to support my grandmother as she went through a fairly difficult heart surgery.  When I left, grandma had just been moved out of the ICU and everyone else seemed well.

Days later I called my dad for an update on Grandma's rehab progress. "Little Girl, I can't talk, I hurt too much.  Can I call you back later."  Uhhhhhh, okay.  I called Mom.  She informed me that Dad had suddenly started experiencing pain that he had decided must be kidney stones.  The pain passed quickly and he returned my call.  Days passed.  A few bouts of pain and 1,100 miles later, he was home safe and returned to his normal routine.

This time, on Sunday, Dad didn't call back.  Hours passed, the day uneventfully slipped into evening here as I wrestled with my own internal challenges.  Bedtime came and mom called, effectively signing me up for a club I never requested membership too.

"Collene, your dad's pain never went away this morning like it has the other days.  I took him to the ER in Flagstaff this afternoon.  They're running tests, but they've ruled out kidney stones."

The doctor had suggested to Dad that he may have pulled a muscle in his lower back... Uh, if you've ever met my dad, you know that he doesn't go to the ER with a pulled muscle.  He was insistent.  "I'm 64 years old.  I've pulled muscles, this isn't that.  Try again".  A CT scan and some blood work were ordered.

We should know something in 30 minutes, they say.  Thirty minutes later the nurse arrived, announcing that it would be about 30 minutes before the doctor would have results.  Dad teased her that her time was up already, she needed to give him answers now.  She knelt down next to him and with her face on her folded hands said, "I'm so sorry, you must be in so much pain.  The doctor needs to talk to you, but he needs more time." This was the first indication that his "pulled muscle/kidney stone" wasn't going to be so simple.

The doctor returned, with pictures.  My daddy's bones are full of holes.  His hips are both fractured, his ribs and spine are splintering off into pieces that free float in his abdomen.  This man has been fighting forest fires all year all over this entire nation.  How is this possible?

Sunday night he was admitted to the hospital with bone marrow tests ordered for Monday morning.  The night took forever.  Monday morning came and went, there was some disagreement among the doctors... Finally, after reviewing his tests, a new doctor assigned to his case decided a bone marrow test is too risky.  He believes my dad's spine could shatter, just from the needle.  A lymphatic biopsy is ordered along with additional blood work and more scans.

Monday drags on.

One brother was unreachable, working in Africa.  Another was not directly contactable, a member of the USMC, located in AnUndisclosedDangerousLocation (it's a real place, trust me).  A third had no cell and no power, living in New York with his new pal, Hurricane Sandy.  The rest of us, desperately cling to each other, from every corner of this country, for encouragement and even a few laughs...

Monday night the doctor finally returned.  Even without the biopsy results, it is obvious: My hero, my rock, my adviser, my daddy, Superman himself- has rapidly growing, Stage IV, metastasized, incurable cancer.

I hate this club I've been forced to join.  This morning when I woke up with tears already (still?) streaming out of the corner of my eyes, I realized that I am changed forever.  I thought I knew Grief, but yesterday, Grief started unpacking his boxes to stay.

Yet, already this club has it's comforts.  So, so many of my friends and loved ones are members here.  I no longer watch them from across the fence. They've already started to show me around.  My five days of love letters look puny in comparison to the flood of specific love evidence that has already filled pages of my red tattered journal since Sunday.  Yes, God is still good.  Yes, He loves even me.

Three things were already in place inside my heart before this week and for now, this is all I have:

#1- The recurring words on my lips, as I waited for news on Monday, were actually lyrics to "Don't Stop The Madness", another Tenth Avenue North song:

All I hear is what they're selling me: "If God is love there can't be suffering, have a little faith and prosperity." 

But, oh my God I know there's more than this! If you promised pain, it can't be meaningless. So make me poor if that's the price for freedom...

Do whatever it takes to give me your heart and bring me down to my knees Lord.

#2- I had already been reading in Romans 8... (you might remember this day).  A few verses before those (vs 18) it says this:

 "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."

#3- I had a conversation, completely unrelated to this situation, on Monday morning... My friend, who embraced Grief years ago, gave me these words of wisdom:

"Shake hands with Sadness, he'll visit often and stay for a short while.  However, when Grief knocks at your door, welcome him and embrace him, for he has moved in to stay."  

Finally, if you don't know my dad, you need to understand this about him:

He has just rallied.  He plans to, in his words, "get the pain under control, start a treatment, talk to a few more specialists, cut some firewood, do a few chores around the house and get back to fighting fires."  I don't doubt that. With is excellent health, physical strength and spiritual and emotional fortitude, he will have longer than most with his diagnosis.  If you pray, please do.  This is likely to be a long race...

 Always a firefighter.

Always his "Little Girl"

Spring Cleaning, Well Into Fall

I can hardly wait to tell you about the love letters I got this week, but there's still a couple of days left in the Week of Illumination, so I'm going to wait... Instead, there were three separate, but equally awesome, conversations at work today that I want to tell you about.

Stuff is rapidly coming together for me because apparently, conceptual repetition is my friend.  Unfortunately for you, if you've read my blog since the beginning, you're being drug along from room to room with me as I do my spring cleaning, because nothing I am telling you about today (this month, really) is new. I can't apologize though. Every room needs the same elbow-grease effort, even if it will feel overly familiar by the time I get to the end of this work.

Today's Conversation #1

The girl is cute. A gorgeous blonde, petite figure, with energy for days and business-woman ambition, she's the mother of two INCREDIBLY beautiful little girls.  She married her junior high/high school sweetheart and lived happily ever after.  Mostly.

We've had a professional relationship for a couple of years, but lately we're starting to know each other on a deeper level. Somehow the conversation came around to religion, churches and how we were raised.  Yup, Professional Etiquette 101, Rule #1 says, "Stay away from religious, political or controversial topics with clients."  (Shhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone, I break ALL the rules and people still seem to re-book.)

Anywho, her story gave me some perspective and encouragement.  God is faithful.  Whether we tend to be overly strict and pious, or ridiculously lax and apathetic in our understanding of Him, His Law, and His Son, we are repeatedly each given the opportunity to know Him personally.

The biggest take-away from Conversation #1?  I need to ask God who He is and what He expects of me pertaining to my sin and purpose.  Being dependent on other people to define Him or His "rules", whether it's a well meaning friend, parent, teacher, pastor or priest, will never satisfy.  In fact, that scenario is the perfect breeding ground for frustrated, bitter, disillusionment and facade manufacturing.

Can you tell I'm passionate about that?  So, my very next client opened this can of worms...

Conversation #2

This woman is so darn great!  She's only been in my chair twice, but even before she was a client, as a virtual stranger, she nearly single-handedly painted my house. (Yes, I'm THAT blessed- friends recruit strangers to take care of my needs these days.  A-MA-ZING.)  She is the gentle, artistic, organized, mother of two ADORABLE little boys.  She married the man of her dreams, after living a short lifetime of experiences and lessons- learned the hard way.  Our conversation started with the topic of romantic love.  Don't get me wrong, I do deeply love, but the reality is that I have very little to add to a conversation like that, so I listened.

"You know when you know that it's right, even if you don't want it to be." She said.  She had made enough mistakes, thinking she knew, hoping she knew... When he came along, there was no doubt.  However, she did resist for awhile, what she instantly knew.  Weird how we are sometimes, when we actually get what we want right in front of us, huh?

Anyway, that conversation, somehow, morphed from romantic relationships to general relationships to spiritual relationships and then to the topic of discipline.  She quoted her favorite verse:

“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.”  

~Proverbs 3:11-12 & Hebrews 12:5-6

For the rest of the appointment we discussed the difference between punishment and discipline.  An athlete disciplines their body, never punishes it...  sometimes it's still so easy to hear the "God loves me when I'm good and is angry at me when I'm bad" narrative I've believed for all these years.  No.  God is training me through discipline, for a specific use that He has in mind.  These dark-jungle days have meaning in the mind of my Trainer.  If He promised pain, it can't be meaningless.  He is good.

Conversation #3

Finally, this woman is a friend.  She is beautiful, generous, incredibly hardworking, broken.  So many abuses have been inflicted upon her, I'm not sure she knows who to start forgiving first.  She is desperately trying to find reason in it all.  There is none.  Still, her heart aches to find grace for her abusers. Our conversation was one that could be summed up with "If God is so good, then why...?"  I see her point.  I've felt her desperation.

So she asked, "If God is all about love and forgiveness, then he can't punish anyone right?  He always has to forgive because of Jesus, right?"  We spent the next several minutes talking about wrath (redefined) and the necessity for God to be perfect love and perfect justice.  We discussed that Jesus said "it is finished", but that individually, we have to accept his offer to pay our sin debt.

"Free" is hard to accept, isn't it?

And that, my friend, is a perfect way to leave you while I re-read my love letters... I'll explain all that later.

Goodnight

(Google Image)

Apprenticeship of Love

 "Collene, do you trust me?" The question continues to challenge me.  Sometimes, I'm not sure...

 In the same way the Spirit also comes to help us, weak as we are.  For we do not know how we ought to pray; the Spirit himself pleads with God for us in groans that words cannot express.  And God, who sees into our hearts, knows what the thought of the Spirit is; because the Spirit pleads with God on behalf of his people and in accordance with his will. 

~Romans 8:26,27

I woke up that way again this morning. What once felt like a baby elephant playing on my chest, now feels like a massive, full grown pachyderm has firmly seated himself directly over my heart.  The hours, days and months have not lightened the load and the nights are getting darker.  Initially, it was easy to turn the burden over to God.  I could fill pages and hours with very specific, heartfelt prayers.  Now, with the thick darkness and confusion of this jungle, most of the time all I can utter is "Jesus, help".

Thank God for Romans 8 this morning.  Thank God that the subject of my deepest aching burden doesn't have to depend on my faithfulness, understanding or skills.  Thank God that He pursues us, despite us, all the while inviting us to participate in His pursuit of others.  Thank God that He is using this situation to teach me a hands-on class about true love.  Pray that I graduate, would you?  Here's the syllabus:

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 Love never fails. 

But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.  For we know in part and we prophesy in part,  but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.  When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.  For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 

 ~1 Corinthians 13.

(Google Image)

Fig Leaves Are So Last Season

Exposure was the main character of my day.  Nobody likes that guy, seriously!  Well, wait.  I started thinking about various personalities of Exposure and, boom, before you know it, I can almost imagine him becoming a dear friend.

It all started with me relaying, to one of my nosy pastors, some of the details about the insecurities and pain I left out of yesterday's blog.  (Well really he's not nosy, I did give him permission, once, to dig and he's not the kind of guy to turn down an invitation.  Persistent fellow, he his.  I'll tell you more about that some other day, maybe.)  He was annoyingly accurate and seemed to be teaming up with a few of my friends, a sibling or two and a parent, in his assessment of me.  Thankfully, he didn't label me with his assessment without a follow-up action.  I'll get to that in a minute.

So anyway, the craziest place I could think of in all of scripture for the guy to take me would be the Garden of Eden in Genesis 3.  He took me there anyway.  We read the story. Then he re-read it, substituting my name for Adam's and using the details I had just given him about my situation.  It actually made sense to me...

Adam was exposed.  He was afraid and didn't trust God with his exposure.  So, he covered himself his way, with a few fig leaves, then hid.  Huh.  That's a familiar action and reaction.  As the story goes, God lovingly leads Adam to a confession, despite his resistance, then makes him better (fur and leather) clothes.  These clothes required some pain and death, but Adam's exposure was covered, without earning it or deserving it, perfectly, comfortably and completely.

Exposure brought about real love.

Before I left today, I asked my sweet pastor to tell me how I can fix this natural-as-breathing reflex I have to sew myself a few fig leaf outfits.  I don't even know when I'm doing it for crying out loud.  His response, my big follow-up action? Stop doing.  Uhhhhh, I'm a do-er.  How does a do-er not do?  Apparently, by taking their hands off the situation, whatever that means.  Soooooo, he tells me, we're going to be praying for illumination this week on those types of situations.  This means my uncomfortable, exposed injuries will remain open to the air and light and potentially be a whole subject in the classroom of life this week.  Umm, I'll let you know how that goes.

Meanwhile, at lunch, I had more food for thought.  I'm a visual learner and find myself using illustrations to tell a story.  As I was discussing, with my fake big sister, the events of the weekend and the morning's conversation with my pastor, I summed it up for her kind of like this:

I feel like somewhere along the way I had a broken bone.  Maybe not an arm, but something deeper and more vital like a spine.  I spent years putting gauze and ace bandages on it while treating it with ibuprofen.  Eventually the pain subsided and the bone healed.  Never mind that it's all jacked up now.  I'm crooked and crippled, but the pain is lessened- unless I try to stand up straight, or move forward in any way.  Recently, it occurred to me that I'd like to stand straight and walk correctly again.  The physician offered to cut me, to heal me- to break me, to bind me.  He'll have to cut through my flesh to the bone, re-break it, set it correctly, then suture and bandage me with His plates, screws, staples and gauze.  His medicines will be prescription strength and His tools sharply precise.  Somehow, I keep arguing with the surgeon about how to do the procedure.  In His grace, He is waiting for me to say I'm ready.  In His mercy, He'll cause me to heal and function the way I was intended to, before the injury.

Exposure is merciful.

Finally, it's no secret I love photography.  I admire "real" photographers and am not afraid to admit that the more I learn about it, the less I really know.  I spent the afternoon alone, playing with some of the pictures I've taken, trying to salvage some of the ones that had low exposure by using certain filters during the edits.  Hmmmm, there's that word again.  Exposure. In photography, it refers to the amount of light allowed to fall on an object or area in a shot and is usually controlled by a shutter.  Without Exposure, we would have no photographic art. 

Exposure is illuminating.

Okie doke, I'm getting it.  This acquaintance, Exposure, is begging to be my friend.  I suppose I'll look for the illumination this week that the good pastor is praying for me.  Like Adam, I might just find real Love. Besides, fig leaves are so last season.

(Google Image)

Sitting On The Edge Of A Dime, Swinging My Legs

Have you ever had a day that you felt so low?  

I lived a lifetime this week, on a dime, just like that.  I'm irritated to admit, but try as I might to avoid them, his incredibly insightful words kept echoing through the empty silences of my week... again.

"Do you ever wonder, is God in Control?" I had asked.

"He is, you just have to trust Him."

"What if I can't anymore?"

"You can, you just have to get over yourself first."

His response both soothed and cut me.  What does he know about me?   Besides "he" is just someone-I-used-to-know now anyway.  I've deliberately worked very hard at dismissing everything else he said in our short friendship, both the pleasant and the unpleasant things.  However, those specific words still haunt me.  Between you and me, the good news is that we won't ever have to tell him he was right, or that he had me figured out in more ways than one.

Tonight, it seems my buddy Oswald agrees with the stranger-I-used-to-know too:

Why doesn’t God reveal Himself to you? He cannot. It is not that He will not, but He cannot, because you are in the way as long as you won’t abandon yourself to Him in total surrender. ~ O. Chambers

Wellllllll, that's just weird.  I don't usually look up his stuff before bed.  Tonight couldn't have been more perfect timing for those words.  I've wrestled, hand-to-hand combat style, with the "getting over myself" concept all weekend.  Until today, I couldn't figure out what that's supposed to look like on a daily basis. Here's how if finally made sense, but I'll have to back up a few days:

Last week there was a trip.  Nope, not a vacation, there's a difference, trust me.  The why's and details aren't important to the story, but the timing is.  I already told you that this time of year is tough on me, with dates and yada, yada....  Prior to the trip, I had felt myself slipping into disappointment, lethargy, discouragement and teetering on despair.  Circumstances and conversations pushed me over the edge and I allowed myself to embrace a full-on depression. 

In August I told you about that project of healing in me that seems impossible even to God? Yeah, well, I re-read it.  I think I accidentally gave God permission to reach into that, didn't I?  The insecurities and deep injuries I've held closely guarded and bound securely, were exposed to the light and air, dramatically and all at once.

Well what good is exposure, if there won't be healing?  The lyrics of 'You Do All Things Well' (Tenth Avenue North) became my source of comfort and hope:

You break me to bind me
You hurt me, Lord, to heal me
You cut me to touch me
You died to revive me

There's a paragraph that I've typed here about four times.  I can't seem to make it publishable, so I'll jump to the end.  Today Luke 9:23 is what finally made sense of all of this nonsense I've been wrestling for months, no, years.  Yup, it's a bumper-sticker-turned-real-to-me verse: 

"Then he said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." 

So, there it is.  Oswald, the Stranger Friend, and the good doctor, Luke, agree.  I have to get over me.  My rights, desires, hopes- including the God-given ones, my capability and self-sufficiency, what I perceive to be my deepest needs, even my fears- will have to die, every day, if I want to follow Him- more importantly, if I want to see that He's in control... and I do.  It's a well documented fact that I make such a mess when I lead.

The good news is that He's still writing my story with Mercy's pen.  Nearly every day, I being reminded, in outrageous ways, that I am unconditionally loved, a precious treasure, extremely valuable, a daughter of the King, more valuable than the birds of the air or the flowers of the field...

One of these days, I just might believe it myself.

This One Time, At Band Camp...

My brother-in-law and I agree, all good stories start that way.   I'll confess I never went to band camp.  Here's the story anyway:

Five days ago, I sealed my fate.  I got a cat.  If you've spent any time with me over the past year, you're probably already on the phone with the straight jacket people, reserving my padded room at Warm Springs.  In the words of my daughter: "We're not cat people, we're dog people".  In fact, It's been a running joke with my friends since this blog in January.

Here's how I lost my mind, temporarily:

Five days ago I was minding my own business.  The kids were due back to my house in a few hours and I was taking a much needed day off from the grind of life.  My eldest (who, by-the-way, turned 14 today) was pheasant hunting with a friend.  Since I'm not the "hunting parent", nor was I the day's custodial parent, you can imagine my surprise and heart-in-throat response to his phone number calling mine that morning.  "Mom", his desperate voice asked... "I found a kitten in a ditch, by a tree, she's tiny and there's no momma cat here,  can I bring her home, she's scared and her eyes are so blue and she's so little mom, can I keep her, I'll take care of her, please mom..."  His sentences ran together, his desperate words pouring out, my son barely taking a breath between.

Instantly I thought "no", for a million reasons.  However, by the time he finished with his plea, I had, in my mind's eye, the vision of two young men, toting shotguns, bent over a helpless teeny kitten, concern and excitement written all over their faces.  Somehow, I lost all sense of reason and I said yes.

It occurred to me later in the day that he was the kid of mine that had been slightly allergic to cats as a little boy.  I called him back to ask if she was making his eyes water.  I was having reservations and was about to back-track in my decision...  He said yes, his eyes were a little watery.  So I asked if he was puffy and itchy too.  He answered, "Oh, wait no!  I'm not allergic to her, my eyes are watering a little because she is so helpless and her eyes are so blue..."

This boy makes my heart happy.

When they got home with her, I had the usual mom-to-child Responsibility Lecture prepared and seamlessly presented.  My son, who has been 45 years old since birth and, more often than not, is more responsible then both of his parents combined, readily agreed to the terms. After some discussion, he determined that she would be our Daisy.

Over the last five days things have not gone quite like I had planned.

Daisy, who would easily fit inside a Dr. Pepper can, has assigned herself to me.  She drunkenly jumps after me in a tottering kitten sideways run as I walk from room to room.  She cries by the shower until I get out and purrs when I lean down and say her name.  She waits, expectantly, on the floor by my bed watching for me to wake up and forces her way beneath blankets next to me on the couch each evening. She is hopelessly beautiful.

The eldest of my children has, without fail, exceeded the expectations of the terms and conditions set before him, and the other two have declared themselves "cat people". 

I give up.  I have a cat.  Sorry son, you'll have to get your own.

 

There's nothing cliche here at all people, keep moving...

 

She's pretty sure I can't see her behind the Q-tips, she's right.

The mighty hunter returns with a Dollop of Daisy 

(The commercial jingle is getting a little over-sung here, you might imagine) 

The 365

Dates are important to me.  Well, some dates.  I'm sorry to admit, Mr. B., although you were a fascinating teacher and story teller, most of History's dates haven't stuck with me any longer than necessary for passing the quizzes excepting a few... But the ones that pertain to my life, stick a little too well at times.

Anywho, because I'm that kind of girl, tonight is a teensy nostalgic, sorta lonely and completely ridiculous.  I have yet to work out the mess in my head connected to this date, not to mention one or two rapidly approaching next week.

I'm sick of grasping at protective emotions as a coping mechanism.  I'm tired of "looking at the bright side" as if I could actually see something usable there.  So today, since sleep beat me up again last night, I took a nap.  Twice.   The naps helped, at least as far as "going through the motions" is concerned, but tonight I'm afraid will be longer than last night.  I've determined to set my mind on What Is, not on What Isn't. I've been going through the pages of pictures of memories and change this little family of mine has experienced in 365 days, I'll share:

Last October we took our first "new" family vacation.  We went "home" for me- Paradise Valley, MT.  I love fall colors, barns, mountains, wildlife, and Yellowstone. I can't believe how much I had missed this place.

On this trip I drug along another single mom and her kids.  We took an insane number of detours to find photo-graphical barns.  We ate in every restaurant in Gardiner (which is not hard to do in three days).  We even bought the nonsense touristy stuff I swore I'd never own.

With very little cell service, ridiculous music blasting on repeat- with 5 partially tone-deaf children singing along at the top of their lungs, a good cup of coffee and a sweet friend, THIS was a perfect vacation:

December brought a new adventure.  We packed up snow gear, food, gifts and clothes and headed south to Northern Arizona.  The kids hadn't been to see Grandma and Grandpa in years, in fact only one even remembered their house.  We had a sweet time reconnecting with two of my brothers, a niece that had never laid eyes on her cousins, and my parents.  There was more snow there than what we had back in Montana, so the kids spent the days teaching their Californian cousin how to build snow creatures.  We spent the final day of vacation at the Grand Canyon.  It cannot be stressed enough:  I LOVE my family.  All of them, even the quirky ones....

In February, I was invited to crash my sister's party in San Antonio.  Her husband had been there for weeks of Guard training and she was heading down to visit him.  Tickets to S.A. from MT are cheap, more doable on a Single Mom Budget than a ticket to Alaska, so I was all over that invitation.  Besides, it's Texas... in February.  I went and did some inviting of my own.  San Antonio is where my brother D and his wife K lived when they met, so they've got lots of special memories there.  They were easily convinced and they brought my nephew along too...


D and I had more fun than any two adults should be allowed to have in the rain, on a playground.  I'm pretty sure we broke this jeep, but ask me how much I care:

As March turned into April, I was in Seattle.  Among other things, my services were required as it pertains to teaching the short people how to dance at Pink and sampling FAR too much food at trendy downtown restaurants.  The dancing was mostly successful, if you consider Chicken Dancing a genre, and the food passed the inspection of my delicate palate.

Not enough can be said about my four days in the Sea-Tac area.  I will say, not a drop of rain fell until I was on my way to the airport to leave.  I'm not saying it was me, but it was.  The trip was legendary, and quite possibly a movie will be made...

Nearly a dozen years of calling this woman "friend" has, at times, made the unbearable, bearable.  I trust her with anything.  How is it possible that a woman like me is surrounded with this caliber of human?  Someday, I'd like to be HALF the wife, mom, chef, fitness guru, and deep well of wisdom, strength, humor and beauty as this one...

Two quickly became four... Seattle called, they miss us.  I'm coming back, be prepared.

The great thing about my life is that I'm inundated with SO many quality friends!  After recovering from my trip out West, I was happily convinced to take my first trip to Vegas, for my 35th birthday.  Well, a pre-birthday, birthday trip, really.  This woman would be my sister, if I was the one choosing.  In fact, my kids call her "Aunt".  I went with no expectations and came home completely satisfied.  I cannot confirm or deny how MUCH shopping we did, but I will say someone had to buy additional luggage and it barely closed.  Oh, and Vegas made a small world smaller when I found a few of my Alaska girls there too.  Thirty five is my favorite year so far.

Immediately following Vegas, we got the news that my Grandfather was about to pass away.  I'm leaving a lot out here, because there's too much emotion and too many crazy details, but my little sister and I, miraculously, were able to drive to Arkansas together.  After 20 years, the place looked the same as it has last time I was there, the people did not.  Grandpa passed away the day before my actual birthday, so I spent my birthday with this part of my family for the first time in my life.  Avoiding the hard part of the story, I'll fast forward to the part I love:  Even in the tough stuff of life, I was blessed beyond my expectations.  Love, Mercy, Compassion, Forgiveness and Peace mingled with laughter and tears.  

My sister and I spent my birthday together.  This was the best gift.  The blessing of helping Grandma pick out funeral flowers was strangely sweet:

Summer was tough, like I've told you previously on this blog.  I did, however, find myself laughing from time to time:

There was a wedding party to style, along with some rain to dance in.  We smiled a LOT on this day...

There was a vicarious return trip to Seattle as a head on a stick.  The girls took me to dinner and a concert.  I should add that it's the best date I've had all year aaaand they kept me up to date via text the whole night.  I have never enjoyed a night of texting so much.

There were countless evenings like this one, with my fake sister-in-law.  She's always good for something.  Whether it be a two mile walk after an eleven hour day on my feet, you know, to clear my head... or a whole day of "grammin" (photo taking/editing).  This one can make a stranger grin, just by the sound of her laugh.  She's a truth speaker too...  Sometimes, uncomfortably so.  I need this in my life.  I love her for her nonsense, depth, integrity, wisdom, sense of humor, experience, insight and honesty.

I picked up a new habit.  It made me meet new people.  It made me smile, a lot.  It's a healthy way to let go of a hard day. 

We went to a couple of the MCB concerts.  I grinned.  And danced.  And sang.

















I shot stuff.  I killed paper, cardboard, glass and aluminum... possibly some dirt.  I smiled. It felt fantastic.

This is my fake big sister.  She is just as fun as she looks here.  She is full of perspective and experience and mercy.  Did I mention she also loves shoes?  Most of my days start with her cheery voice.  Many of my afternoons are peppered with her wisdom.  If my waistline has expanded this year, it's her fault.  She. Is. Fantastic.

I don't usually like purple dinosaurs.  On this day, I did.  I smiled and my kids weren't even embarrassed of me. (Not that I would have cared, mind you, it's my job!)

Concerts and the Fair brought a smile and a giggle or two.  This guy, obviously, is now a friend.  He wears the right team colors.  Also, he's full of humility and depth and grace.  What's another brother, when you've already got five?

We had a photo shoot for our salon's website.  We did get a usable one too, but more importantly, we had FUN.  I think I've told you recently how much these women mean to me...

There was an 80's themed dodge ball team, they insisted we play...  We took home a tourney trophy, for all the wrong reasons.  I did embarrass my kids on this day.  I'm not even slightly sorry.

The Beartooth Pass made me smile.

Barefoot dancing in the snow on the pass made me laugh.

Baseball games with friends were ridiculously fun.

The girl and I ran four 5k races this summer, with one more on the calendar in a few weeks.  She is faster than her mom.  She makes me so proud.

My first, and most definitely not the last, NFL game:  Broncos vs. Steelers, Game One of the regular season.  The kids even cheered for their mom's team back at home.  Dad's team choked.  "It wasn't a surprise" according to one of the offspring; I'll never tell who.  This made me smile, endlessly.

Finally, this fall I was able to take my kids and my fake sister-in-law to South Dakota for this year's "new" family vacation.  We had some amazing conversations and experiences.  I do expect that on this day next year, life will look much different.  However, I have a very good life.  I have grown in a million ways internally, nearly as fast as my children have grown physically.  More importantly, they are amazingly grounded, thoughtful, respectful, intelligent and well adjusted.  

...well, the well-adjusted part is open for interpretation...

Goodnight.