(I Hate) Tumors

At my home church in California, there is a little girl struggling with a malignant brain tumor. I saw some news footage taken of her and her sweet family, and I wept. I hate tumors. All tumors. But specifically ones having to do with the brain. It hits too close to home. Almost three years ago, I almost lost my sister to a brain tumor. Fortunately, the ending to Jaime's story is a happy one - one I rejoice in constantly. She is alive and well and is Supermom. I am so grateful for the miracle God did in saving her life.

However, I am struck and saddened by the fact that Jaime's ending is not the same as everyone else's. My grandfather died of brain cancer two years ago. My best friend lost her father to a heart attack. And this little girl I have never met is battling for her life against a malignant brain tumor. There are countless other stories from faceless people I do not know, and my heart breaks for the patients and for their families. I know what they're going through - I've been there too. And I cannot imagine doing it again.

I am not sure I will ever understand why tragedy strikes, why tumors and heart attacks and cancer happens... Why it happens to the people it happens to, or why God saves some and chooses to bring others home to Him... Maybe I'm not supposed to get it. Maybe the growth comes from the process, not from the understanding... I don't know.

I don't have much of a point with this blog post, I don't have a cute picture to display, and right now a clever and concise ending escapes me. So, I'll just end by asking you join me in praying for this little girl and for the people in your life who are struggling and battling and trying desperately to live. That is all. Thanks.

Love (and the Royal Wedding)

I could choose to be cynical. It's not hard - I usually am. I could be really critical and slightly bitter. I could be righteous and judgmental. I could scoff and roll my eyes. But I have a choice. And I choose love.

This week something happened in Britain. (I like saying Britain instead of England because I think it sounds better and more pretentious, and I like pretension sometimes.) I don't know the whole story. I only know what I have read. And I take everything the media says with a grain of salt because I don't actually know these people - though I'd like to - and I don't know if what is reported is actual truth. But I'd like to believe it is.

This weekend, two people got married on TV. Two people who seemed very much in love, and very much aware of what they were getting themselves into. Over two billion people tuned in to watch in person, on television, and online. I was one of these people. I was glued to the TV for hours, watching two people I have never met and will most likely never meet recite vows, pledge their love to one another, kiss, and wave... A lot.

I did this because I believe in love. I believe that we as humans are capable of greatness. I believe that we are created to change lives and to change each another. And, mostly, I believe we are created to love each another.

I think this wedding is a great love story. I don't know them, but I wish them well. I wish that they will experience joy and growth and love and happiness and the simple and ordinary things that can only come after you commit to share your life with someone else. It's a real love story. Yes, one of them is a prince, and the other is the woman who fell for him and who he fell for in return, so the ordinary part might feel different than most. And yes their wedding was lavish and extravagant and humongous. But it makes me happy. And in this bitter world full of cynicism, criticism, bitterness, and devastation, I think we are all entitled to a day like this.

Cheers to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge! I wish you every happiness. And thanks for the chance to look back on my own wedding and marriage and feel truly blessed. I can only hope that you will be as happy as I am.

These Are My Confessions

"Just when I thought I said all I could say..."

• I am addicted to mall Chinese food.
• I love cheap coffee from those little automated coffee machines at the gas station. Anything along the lines of a French Vanilla Cappucino. If I ordered the real thing in Starbucks (which I never have, interestingly enough), I'd probably hate it.
• I cheat on crossword puzzles. And not really hard ones like the NY Times crossword puzzles. Like People Magazine's crossword puzzles... But it's only after I tried to complete it on my own, honest.
• I check my Facebook at work. Don't you?
• I don't mind going to movies by myself. Sometimes I prefer it. If I go to the movies with other people, depending on how comfortable I am with them, I am always wondering if they think the movie is funny, sad, terrible, etc. If it's me and a bunch of strangers, I couldn't care less.
• This month, I have spent an exorbitant amount of money on books (less than $100, don't get too judgy here), much to the chagrin of my husband. He thinks I should buy ebooks. I tell him to buy me an iPad. He shakes his head and doesn't say anything after that.
• It bothers me and simultaneously amuses me that I can use words like "exorbitant" and "chagrin" in the same sentence that I use "judgy," which isn't even a word.
• I love words. I have always loved words. I love big words, I love weird words. I would say that I have never met a word that I didn't like, but it's not true. I hate the word "moist."

What are some of your confessions?

Pet Peeve

Pet Peeve of the Day:
People who swallow their beverages loudly.

Explanation:
You may think this is silly. But I am dead serious. This is not a small annoyance. This is not a thing you can shrug off and tell me I'm being too sensitive... If I can hear you swallowing your coffee across a 6 foot-long table, you are swallowing too loudly. Unless you're sucking down a milkshake, which sometimes - depending on the thickness - requires some extra oomph, I have no tolerance. If you're drinking anything that is not the slightest bit diluted when put through a soup strainer, you do not have to use all of the energy in your body to swallow. Some of these beverages include, but are not limited to, water, soda, coffee, juice, etc.

Now, I am not a monster. There are a few exception to this rule. They are as follows: 1) If you have recently been intubated for any reason... After extubation, you have to perform a swallow test. So if you have not been cleared to swallow thin liquids - thus, requiring you to use a lot of force and control when you swallow - you get a hall pass. 2) If you are ill... When you have a cold, sometimes your throat becomes raw. I understand this. When you're sick, sometimes swallowing sucks, and you just want the liquid to take a different route down your throat so you swallow often and weirdly. You get a hall pass. 3) If you just swallowed a box of razor blades... I personally don't know why you'd want to swallow anything after you swallow a box of razor blades, but, sure, you get a hall pass. 4)... That's all I've got. If I'm missing something, feel free to enlighten me in the comments section.

Creativity

Sometimes - a lot of the time - I feel I lack creativity. I'm a details person. I'm an executer and a doer. I'm not a big dreamer or idea man (or woman, whatever). That's why I so admire people who are. Over half of the blogs I follow are super unique and creative and special, and they inspire me. It's people I know doing something they love and it's so artsy and passionate, and it all just makes me happy. Here are just a few of these amazing blogs:

• 31bits.com/blog


• shannonleith.com


• layceelemons.blogspot.com


• fashionablybored.blogspot.com

So, if you're ever feeling uninspired or lackluster, visit these blogs, or search for your own. I'm sure that a lot of people you know and love are super creative and inspiring too.

'Til next time...

Mandy

Get OFF! of me!

Mosquitos suck. Yes, literally, but also figuratively. Every single day I get bitten at least once by these little annoying, blood-sucking pests. Normally, not such a big deal. But ever since I was a kid, growing up summers in Minnesota, my mosquito bites get huge. And I mean HUGE. Another downside of being surrounded by mosquitos, other than the horrible swelling and itching? Public humiliation. Inevitably, you end up looking like a crazy person swatting at the air to try to kill all mosquitos getting ready to dive-bomb.

Now, I haven't seen a mosquito for like five years, so I am out of practice. But South Texas is swarming with them. The worst bites I've had so far? On my cheek, behind my knee, and on my foot. The face one is just unsightly, the other two itched LIKE CRAZY! Suddenly, those commercials advertising the personal OFF! fan that you clip onto your belt doesn't seem so silly. I am seriously considering it.

P.S. In non-mosquito-related news, I had a mole biopsied a couple weeks ago and I am finding out the results this Thursday. Please pray for a good outcome!

Sad Puppy

So every few weeks - or rather, months - I come crawling back to you... Tail between my legs, sad puppy eyes and all... I promised to write you. I promised to do it frequently and fervently. As a result, I have realized that I am either a) lazy, or b) overambitious. I can't decide between the two. I'll leave it to you to decide.

Since we last spoke, the world has kept on spinning, as I knew it would. The first few days back in Texas after being in California were difficult and heartbreaking all over again. But the world didn't end. Chris and I returned to work. Our routine resumed. Time passed... We've gotten slightly more comfortable here, only because time kept passing and because we just kept trudging on. We've visited a few more churches, but haven't settled on one that we love yet. We've both excelled professionally, but simultaneously became frustrated with how things are done here in this foreign land. We never stop missing home. It is like a constant dull ache in our hearts, a forever reminder that we have people we love far away, and we count down until we can see them again - which, by the way, is in only two weeks!!!

I've been reading a lot. Like ridiculously. I think since we last spoke, I've read at least four books. Now, they were not by any means great feats of literature. Rather, they are mindless, fun, or thrilling fiction novels that I can escape to at the end of the day. Incidentally, two of them ended with someone either dying of cancer or a brain tumor. Real nice, right? Jump right into my nightmare, the water is warm... If you have any brain tumor-free book recommendations, please let me know!

Also, about three weeks ago, Chris and I made a conscious decision to get in shape. We started counting our calories and we bought passes to our school's gym, which happens to be only 100 yards from our apartment. We've worked out almost every day since - sometimes twice! I've never really been a gym junkie before, so learning to lift weights and how to work certain muscle groups has been a little interesting. I actually sort of enjoy it. I do at least 30 minutes of cardio each day, which is usually achieved thru about 2 miles on an elyptical machine, and then lift weights for my upper body or lower body, including abs each day. The results have been slower than I would like, but at least I feel better about myself. It harder to eat healthy too, mostly because you just discover how poorly you used to eat before. It has made me wish beyond wishing that I was raised a healthy eater. Sadly, the things I crave are just about the most terrible things for you: potato chips, fries, popcorn, etc. I'm a salty snacker. But I can't eat those things anymore. I've substituted them for more healthy things, and I've learned some great tips from my sister, the Weight Watcher's queen, about good little snacks to fill your appetite between meals.

I have another cool update for you, but it's not really about me... My sister, Jaime, got an MRI for the remaining thumbnail of a tumor left in her brain, which she's done almost every six months since November 2008 to see if it's grown at all. And all is clear! Absolutely no growth at all! Praise God! We actually had an inkling that this was going to be the verdict a few days before because the radiologist gave her his analysis of her scans. But we always wait for her neurosurgeon, Dr. Martin's, final say. Dr. Martin is the be-all, end-all authority in all things Jaime's brain. Dr. Martin graduates. And Dr. Martin cleared Jaime for another year! And Josh sent out a mass text. And I cried... I cry every year. And I will continue to. I will never stop thanking my God for the miracle He did in Jaime.

Well, that's the best I can give you for now. I'll let you know if I think of anything else... Life is pretty average right now. But, nonetheless, life is still being lived. I'm trying to enjoy it more. It sounds weird, but working out has created a new kind of energy in me, and I actually feel very good about myself, regardless of how slowly I see it in the mirror. So, ciao for now. I'll try to be more consistent with my blogging. Really, I will. Even amidst all this averageness.

Perfect Day

>>>>>>>> It was a perfect day

>>>>>>> What I'd give if I could find a way to stay

>>>>>> Lost in this moment now

>>>>> Ain't worried 'bout tomorrow

>>>> When you're busy

>>> Living

>> In a

> Perfect day

::Lady Antebellum::


I don't really know where to begin. My time in Cali was that amazing. So needed, too. But it wasn't nearly enough time. Before I knew it, I was riding in the car with Jaime, headed back to the airport. And I was heartbroken. She said it so many times while I was there -- it feels so natural, so normal, so right having me there. And it was the same for me. It felt so natural, so normal, so right being in California. Chris feels it too. He got off the plane at LAX, called me, and said, "We belong here."

I wish that I could say returning home to Edinburg, TX put my doubts and worries and sorrows to rest, but it didn't. Returning back to Edinburg was the most unsettling thing I have done in a long time. I don't feel like we belong here. This isn't home. Where did it go? Where did that sense of peace and acceptance I had for this place go? When will I get it back? Will I ever feel at home anywhere but at my sister's house, holding my nephew, sitting on the couch next to her?

Lord, you have some more work to do in me. I still have doubts and questions and it still hurts. I trust you. I believe you know what you're doing. I just wish I knew what it was.

Snail's Pace

When I left California, I made a plan to return for Easter. It made the leaving a small fraction easier, knowing I would return. Someone told me that no matter how far away the date, having a goal in mind helps with the waiting. And, you know what, it actually has!... Until now.

There are seven days left. I started planning this trip in December. I committed to this trip in January. Airline tickets were officially purchased in February... So far, I have endured 81 days of waiting. As you can tell from my last post, I've been busy, so these last 81 days have actually passed pretty quickly. But now that there are only seven left, each day creeps by at a snail's pace. THEY ARE THE LONGEST DAYS EVER. I am afraid I will implode from excitement and sheer anticipation. I am completing my work faster, hoping it will make time pass more quickly (it doesn't); I am sleeping horribly, hoping a large amount of time has elapsed since the last time I rolled over and looked at the clock (it usually hasn't); time can, literally, not pass quickly enough!

As a result, I have come to the conclusion that I need to calm down. I need to chill. Take a bath, read a book - just chill. Otherwise, I may collapse before April 1 actual arrives, thus preventing me from traveling at all... So, I'm going to try.

...

This is me, trying...........

...

Is it April 1st yet?

Excuses, excuses...

I'm sorry I haven't written to you lately. I know that I promised to, and the fact that I've failed has provided me with no small amount of guilt, I assure you. I don't have a great excuse either; in fact, the only one I have is pretty lousy. Here it is... I've been avoiding you.

Let me unpack that a little bit for you... Why have I been avoiding you? Why have I gone back into my shell? I grew tired of all the sadness I was experiencing. I so deeply missed my family and my job at Vanguard that it overwhelmed me on a pretty consistent basis. Every time I would write, I would get sad. And when I would re-read (as the anal, OCD side of me likes to do) I would get sad all over again. And I was just tired of wallowing in it. So I stopped writing.

Do I still get sad? Sometimes. I just have less time to think about it! I think there is a difference from that and repression, if only a small one... But my plate is full now. I have a full time, live-in job that occupies most of my energy and the small remainder is spent relaxing with Chris. BUT. It's no excuse for retreating from our verbal give and take that I once found incredibly helpful and fulfilling, and I sincerely apologize.

So, here I am, writing to you finally, two months after my last entry. A lot has happened.

In January, I received the opportunity to take the next step and continue in my career in University Residence Life here in Texas. And what a step it has been! I am now solely responsible for an entire dorm of 370 undergrads, run a co-ed RA staff of 12 and also an additional 14 office assistants, as well as spend at least 24 hours a week on-call in case of emergencies. A lot has happened. My life has changed significantly. Chris is also busier than ever with tennis. While he was out of a job, and then when we were in two separate states for those many weeks, I forgot what it was like - the hours it takes, the stress it puts him under, the frustration it can cause… I worry about him sometimes. Chris is an excellent coach with high expectations and even higher ambitions. Being an NCAA Div I coach has been as much a joy as a challenge, and he has had to work hard and will continue to have to work even harder to get where he wants to. But I have faith in him. That’s the job of the coach’s wife, as I have learned it to be.

In February, Chris and I started to sink into a routine. Slowly, the drama of moving and all the transition started to settle. Life began to feel almost normal… Wouldn’t you know it—it was at this time that I had my first migraine, which produced some drama. Before my migraine hit one Tuesday evening, I experienced numbness throughout my body that started in my toes, traveled to my fingertips, then to my mouth, limiting my speech. Chris took me to the hospital. When we got there, it almost felt as if the numbness had spread to my brain because I was having a hard time comprehending things, almost as if my brain was working more slowly. The numbness faded pretty quickly after we arrived at the ER, but that is when the mind-numbing headache set in. The rest is pretty fuzzy to me. But, after several hours of sleeping and moaning in the ER—which sufficiently freaked out Chris and, by extension, my entire family—I was released without much of an explanation. Since then, I have acquired an neurologist, had a CT, MRI, EEG, vials and vials of blood drawn and tested, and after all the poking and prodding, the conclusion she came to is… MIGRAINES. This is a very non-dramatic diagnosis for everything that I went through, but I’m not complaining.

To be perfectly honest, ever since Jaime’s brain tumor a year and a half ago, and since my grandpa died of brain cancer last year, I’ve wondered if I should get a CT or an MRI to check my brain too. But my scans were clear, and at least now I know.

In exactly nine days, I get to go home for a few days! I don’t know that California will ever stop being home... It’s interesting to gauge people’s reactions when I tell them I’m from California. Usually it’s a mixture of wonder, suspicion, glamour, and amazement. To me, California means none of these things… To me, California means Jaime. It means Cole. It means Josh. It means Mom. It means Rick and Kay and Matthew. It means Rick and Mary and Aaron. It means Staci. It means Cathi and Courtney and Laycee and Steph. It means Bill. It means Jessie and Ty and Taylor and Christine… And many more… To me, California means the dozens of people in my life whom I love so dearly and whose rich company I miss so much. I cannot wait to go home, not for the beach or the sunshine or the food (though that may be second), but… For you. I cannot wait to see you in nine days.

Hello World

If you get the chance, I recommend that you wander over to Lady Antebellum's myspace page and listen to a song called "Hello World" off their new album, which is out on Tuesday and which you should also buy. Every song off their new album, which are also available on this site, is worth a listen as well.

But this song literally brought me to tears tonight and made me raise my hands to the heavens... The parts the spoke to me the most are the second verse, the chorus, and the very end - I have no idea what the specific name for this section of music is (second bridge?? I don't know, I'm not musical).

I wrote down the lyrics, but you really do have to hear it to understand the power and to be taken over yourself. But here are the very last lines to the song, which is followed by a sweet instrumental set:

All the empty disappears

I remember why I'm here

Just surrender and believe

I fall down on my knees

Well hello world

Hello world

Hello world

Sometimes, I forget why I'm here. The Lord really is trying to bring me to my knees. I do need to just surrender and believe. I can't ignore the world around me, ignore my feelings, ignore God... I need to sink in, spend some time on my knees, and dig in.

Would you like to join me?

They Have No Idea

Last night, I was invited to go to dinner with Chris' boss and his wife. Normally, there would be no hesitation. This time there was. Why? Because Chris himself would not be there. He is still in Florida, recruiting tennis players for his team. Truthfully, Chris being gone the last three days has sort of sucked, and I am more aware than ever of the need for us to make friends, and quickly. So, I accepted the invitation.

It went really well. There was another couple at dinner, so that lightened the load a bit. And the boss, who is also named Chris, is a nice guy, as is his wife, and they have a new baby... Now, most of you know me. You know that I am not really a baby person. I think they're cute, I think they're funny, but let's just say that my uterus doesn't skip a beat when I'm around them. But you also know that I love my nephew. I think he is the greatest kid in the world. And he has taught me a lot about love -- because I love him WAY more than I ever knew was possible. In fact, there have been several posts on this blog dedicated to my nephew (read here, here and here). Well, because of Cole, I can now hang in there with the best of them when talk turns to babies and the funny/annoying/amazing things they do, which it often does around new moms.

Last night, while the men were in the other room watching football, us women were in the living room talking while the boss' wife is trying to breastfeed her 10 week-old. And most of the conversation was about babies. Like I said, I can hang in there now and contribute to the conversation with the best of them -- though I do feel a little pathetic after a while, starting each sentence with "my nephew" or "my sister," but that is the only hands-on experience I have to speak of. Somehow, the baby conversation turns into a birthing conversation. I discover that both women in the room had a c-section -- one was even an emergency c-section, like Jaime's. Talk turns to surgery, hospitals, nurses, etc. Now that's something that I have personal experience with... But I had no words.

I just kept thinking, "They have no idea. They have no idea what I've been through, what my family has been through, what my sister has been through. They have no idea..." And I am discouraged. Cole's traumatic birth and Jaime's even more traumatic brain surgery have taken such a toll on me, and changed my life, and have become such a big part of my story. It wasn't that long ago. I don't know how to tell it to someone new. What's worse, I don't know if they care to hear it.

We need friends out here, of this I am keenly aware. We need people to support us, do life with us, lift us up in prayer. But making friends isn't like it was in elementary school. You can't just walk up to them and ask if they would like to be friends. This is going to be harder than I thought.

P.S. I know I was supposed to use this post to tell you about Christmas, and I will, but this was what was really on my heart.

I don't know where to begin (cont'd)...

I had three days in my new home before Chris and I were headed North for the holidays. It was filled with highs and lows, excitement and sadness.

The Low Point
The day Jaime left was actually a lot harder for me than I expected it to be. Well, actually, the day wasn't so bad... I'll explain... After the airport debaucle, I caught up on some sleep and Chris and I spent the day watching several episodes of The West Wing. That evening, we made an appearance at the women's basketball game at his school before going out to dinner to find some place to watch the Cowboy game since we don't get the NFL Network at home. We went to four different places before we found a restaurant that showed the game, wasn't too crowded, and could actually give us a table...

Then, sitting there at dinner, it hits me - I miss Jaime. I miss her so much it's hard to breathe. I try not to start crying because we're in a crowded place, but I tell Chris that I'm having a hard time without her being there and I can't hold the tears back. The day before, when I was exploring the mall and the town with her, this place seemed all right. It seemed ok. It seemed bearable. But then, she's gone, and this place is foreign and weird and new, and I don't know how to live in it without her. I don't say any of this out loud. I just sit there lamely, trying desperately to stop crying, trying to open my closed throat so air can pass through it. And Chris is just staring pathetically at this sad person in front of him, probably wondering how to help or how to make this all better for me.

That was the low point.

The High Point
The next day was better. Christmas was just around the corner. Chris and I really love Christmas. We spent the remaining 2 days shopping for family members, sneaking off and shopping for one another, and wrapping Christmas presents. I usually don't really enjoy wrapping. It has taken a lot of years to actually hone my wrapping skills, but now I feel like I am fairly accomplished at it. I even sent Chris out to watch football the night before we left for the holidays so I could wrap presents and blast some Christmas tunes. I think one of the reasons we looked forward to this particular holiday season so much is because we would get to see our family, including Jaime, again in just a few short days.

I still have a lot of town to explore, but it gets easier as the days pass. Once I get a job too, I think that my purpose here will increase beyond that of the faithful and loving wife, which I still love and which comes with its own purpose and sense of fulfillment.

Our holiday plans included driving to Chris' grandparents' farm in Athens, TX for Christmas, then driving from Athens to Dallas on the 27th to spend the remainder of the holidays, including New Years, with my dad's side of the family. I will tell all about that time in the next post. Stay tuned.

Goodbye

I have a final dinner with my RA's tonight. I don't know how to say goodbye. I have a stack of note cards on my cluttered coffee table, waiting to be written on, waiting to be filled with words of wisdom and advice and thanks. They sit there, as they have for the entire week, staring at me. No one is making me write them. I decided to write them. I wanted to leave each RA something. But I am having trouble. I don't know how to say goodbye.

Yesterday, a friend and counselor told me to just simply say that. To tell them that I don't know how to say goodbye and let them help me do it. He also said that maybe I should say thank you, let it hang there in the air, and let that be enough. This hardly seems enough. I am a woman of words. Oftentimes, I use too many words to tell stories, answer questions, explain things - just ask my husband. I do this because I often worry about being clear and being understood.

Is thank you enough? Is there another way, a better way to communicate my feelings about them, about what this semester has meant to me? I don't know.

The note cards are mocking me now. It's time to shut them up.

Next post, I'll talk to you about saying goodbye to my family. That should be a doosie.

Hard Time

This Thanksgiving weekend, while in the midst of thanking the Lord for all the blessings I have in my life, I realized something... It's almost December. Tomorrow is December 1st. I'm leaving in two weeks. And... I am devastated.

I'm having a hard time. Still. I'm still having a hard time...

I'm having a hard time leaving my family... The realization that I only have two weeks left with my nephew makes my chest tighten and my throat close up, and I fight the urge to curl up in the fetal position in the corner. I have gotten to watch him grow up before my eyes for 1 year and 3 months, and he is incredible... And I have to leave my sister, my best friend. While it is comforting that she is road-tripping out to Texas with me and that I will see her for New Years, I have no idea what happens after that. This hurts so much that it's hard to talk about. It's hard to accurately convey this sorrow. It's hard to breathe.

I'm having a hard time leaving my job at Vanguard... For one, Vanguard means so many things to me personally, that getting to come back and actually work there was a dream and a privilege. I felt like I got to give back, in a way, to the institution that poured so much into me. Secondly, I don't kow how to leave a job that has filled my heart and soothed my soul so completely. I will desperately miss my RA's, whom I've gotten to share these last few months with, who've shared their lives with me, trusted me with their stories, and given me the authority to speak into their lives. I'm having a hard time not getting to see them through to the end of the school year, not getting to see how they all end up, not getting to walk with them any farther.

But mostly, and ultimately, I'm having a hard time being apart from Chris... My husband. My partner. My favorite. The love of my life... I don't want to do this anymore - I don't want to live in separate states anymore. I got to have him back home for nine whole days over the holiday. And I did not even realize how much I missed him. I put him on a plane back to Texas this afternoon, and it really sucked... He makes everything worth it. I got to share this with a few people this weekend, and I was honored to be able to do so. I am giving up my entire life in California, but he is worth it. I support him. I love him. I serve him. I honor him. And I believe that this honors God.

And I know that when I get to Texas and am having a hard time with the things I left behind, Chris will be there for me, loving me, serving me, comforting me. And, hopefully, it won't be as hard anymore.

Block-breaking

A synopsis of the conversations I have had with myself lately:

Mandy, you haven't written anything in a few days.

I know.

How come?

I can't. I have writer's block.

I don't understand. Why can't you write?

I don't really know.

You are a writer! You are supposed to write!

Thanks. I know this.

Okay, okay. No reason to get frustrated. Just trying to keep you accountable, here.

(Sarcastically) Gee, thanks.

All right, I'm not going to talk to you anymore if you take that tone.

Good. Go away. Leave me alone.

Fine! (Door slames, footsteps retreat down the hall)

... As a result of this sad little conversation with myself, I started thinking about why I haven't written, why I am telling myself I can't write.

Here's what I've come up with: I am too smart. No, seriously. I am too smart for my own good. Too critical for my own good. I don't want to write something terrible, so then I just don't write.

This is pretty silly. For one, hardly anyone reads this blog; therefore, no one really cares how bad my writing is. Secondly, if I wait for a brilliant idea to come so I can write it on here it will never come, and I will never write. Thirdly, if I am writing only to impress all of you - yes, all 3 of you - then I am no writer at all.

So, I am putting an end to this writer's block. I am knocking down the wall between my brain and the good ideas. I am breaking down the blocks (blocks = writer's block. Ha! Get it?! Nevermind.) that only build on my insecurities and laziness. I will continue to write!

I knew when I made this commitment to begin writing again, and to continue writing on a consistent basis, I would inevitably encounter some walls, some blocks, some hurdles. It comes with the territory.

So, now, consider block #1 to be broken.

What do you need?

I love college students. I love challenging them. I love giving them the opportunity to look at their own lives and their relationships with God, and examine what's going on. Plus, I'm good at it... Please understand, I am not being cocky or arrogant. But, for the first time in my professional career, I feel like I am good at what I do.

I was a college student myself a few years ago. I've been where they've been. I was mentored, I was loved, I was challenged. And I am who I am today because someone taught me how to grow closer to the Lord, how to ask the important questions, and how to discover who I was created to be. This changed my life. So, now, I want to change lives. I have a lot to teach.

That's why I love my job so much. I get to teach. One avenue thru which I am able to do this is by doing a devotional each week in my staff meeting. Last week, I wrote about the journaling exercise we did in our staff meeting. It was great to get the chance to reflect on where I was at, and I heard largely the same thing from the rest of the staff. We were actually supposed to do two exercises, but the first one took off on legs of its own, as these things should, so we didn't get around to it. This week, our agenda was a little light and, since there was such a good response last week, I thought it would be a good idea to do journal exercise #2.

I started by reading the following passage found in A Guide to Prayer:

"I do need thee, Lord. I need thee now. I know that I can do without many of the things that once I thought were necesities, but without thee I cannot live, and I dare not die.

I needed thee when sorrow came, when shadows were thrown across the threshold of my life, and thou didst not fail me then. I needed thee when sickness laid a clammy hand upon my family, and I cried to thee, and thou didst hear. I needed thee when perplexity brought me to a parting of the ways, and I knew not how to turn. Thou didst not fail me then, but in many ways, big and litte, didst indicate the better way. And though the sun is shining around me today, I know that I need thee even in the sunshine, and shall still need thee tomorrow.

I give thee my gratitude for that constant sense of need that keeps me close to thy side. Help me to keep my hand in thine and my ears open to the wisdom of thy voice.

Speak to me, that I may hear thee giving me courage for hard times and strength for difficult places; giving me determination for challenging tasks. I ask thee no easy way, but just thy grace that is sufficient for every need, so that no matter how hard the way, how challenging the hour, how dark the sky, I may be enabled to overcome.

In thy strength, who has overcome the world, I make this prayer. Amen." ~ From The Prayers of Peter Marshall edited by Catherine Marshall

What do you need? I feel like the church, as a whole, has taught us that prayer is like walking a fine line... You must praise, you must thank, and you can ask for things but be sure not to ask for too much... We are almost conditioned to think that having needs is wrong. But needing things is not complaining. I have legitimate needs. But I have a problem - I don't like needing things from other people, even God. I like being independent. I like being self-sustaining, which is a funny concept because I cannot function without the people I have in my life or without the Lord, who sustains me. But, somehow, I have fooled myself into thinking that I can do it all by myself.

Here is what I wrote and shared with my staff:

I need to remember who You are. I need to remember that You are good, that You know the way I take. I need to remember that if I feel far from You, it is because I have moved. I need to relinquish control. And I need to remember that I didn't really have much control to begin with... I need to trust You. I need to remember my favorite verse: "Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works within us" (Eph. 3:20)... I need to know if everything will be ok, and, if it won't, to believe that You are beside me... When I think about all the things I need, I find that it all boils down to: I need thee, Lord. I need thee now.

What do you need?

Anonymous

"If indeed it be necessary, O Lord, to bury the workman that my work may be finished by other hands, help me never to think of myself as indispensable. May I be content to die with my work undone, knowing that my task is to work at the fulfillment of thy purposes, not to work them out." --Anonymous

Why would you not sign your name to something as beautiful as this? It moves me. It speaks to where I am at... My work in the last few months at Vanguard may be finished by other hands. This hurts. It pains me so much to think about it, that I have spent almost four weeks now forcing away the thoughts when they come. In the last week though, I have tried to sink into this pain, to talk about it, to pray it. I have been straining to hear something in response, something to comfort me, to give me hope and encouragement. And this gorgeous passage says all I have been trying to hear... It is my task to work at the fulfillment of God's purposes; it is not my job to work them out. He never promised me forever. He put me here for a short season, to bless me, to grow me, to change me. And it worked. I am changed. I am changed because of a few short months I spent being deliriously happy in my career... I just hope it does not end here.

That word... Anonymous... That is one of my worst fears right now. I am afraid that I will leave this place and become a ghost, a bitter shell of the person I once was, with unfinished business that I cannot bear to leave behind... Tomorrow I will be fine. Tomorrow I will be fresh with the glow of a woman who follows the Lord and supports her husband. But tonight... Tonight, I am afraid. I am afraid I am losing a piece of myself when I leave.

That is what the Lord has called me to though, right? I can only find Him by dying to myself. He didn't say it would be easy. He didn't say that it wouldn't be frightening. He didn't say it wouldn't hurt... But He did say that He'd be with me.

Haircut

I really enjoy getting my hair cut. It is the only form of change that I feel I can adjust to easily. I also really enjoy someone else putting the effort into flat-ironing my incredibly thick head of hair. I love getting my hair washed by a professional too. I can just lie back, rejoice in a scalp massage, and let the smooth water wash over my head... Pure joy.

However, there are a few negative aspects to getting a haircut...

1) The backhanded quasi-compliment. This is what it sounds like: "Oh, you got your hair cut!" ... And that's it! No "it looks good" or "I like it," just a bland and lame recognition that you changed your hair. This causes me to judge everyone else's response. They probably don't really like it. Susie didn't say anything, so this person is probably just being nice.

2) Either the inability to recapture what the stylist did to make your hair look great OR having to go home and restyle your hair because you hate how they finished it. Both of these have happened to me before. The former has happened more than the latter, but mostly because I am super low-maintenance and don't have much skill in hair-styling.

3) The itching. I usually leave the hair salon itching all over - due to the microscopic hair clippings that have fallen onto my neck. For some reason, the stylist thought that loosly clipping the smock around my neck was sufficient enough to protect hair clippings from falling through the cracks. Not the case. During my last haircut, I actually uttered the phrase, "Uhh, I think these hair clippings have grown legs and started to migrate down my shirt." On the way home, I was tempted to pull over into a gas station just so I could stand shirtless underneath a hand dryer in the bathroom.

4) The sinks. While I love the scalp massage and water cascading parts of getting my hair washed at the salon, I hate the sinks they wash your hair in. I think they could be used for some form of torture. These sinks seriously need some severe padding in the spot your neck goes. By the end of the wash, I cannot wait to get up! The day after receiving a haircut (including wash), it feels like I have a bruise at the base of my skull.

But the end result makes it all worth it. Hopefully, after enduring the neck pain and the itching, you get to go home with a fabulous new haircut that you can recreate easily on your own and that you receive nothing but positive and believeable compliments for. I don't know about you, but I'd pay good money for that.

I Know

"To write well, you have to write what you know." I don't know who first said this - someone brilliant probably. But I first heard it from the movie Never Been Kissed. Deep, I know... In the midst of this journey I am on to write, I would love to be able to write well. So, I think writing "what I know" is good advice.

What do I know?

... I know that there is a constant battle over which will rule my life - my heart or my head.

I know that I have the ability to think deeply.

In the last year, I have also learned that I know how to love deeply.

I know that loving deeply makes me more likely to get hurt more deeply.

I know that this terrfies me.

... I know that my sister almost died of a massive brain tumor last year.

I know that this has caused me to experience sheer terror at the thought of losing her, or anyone.

I also know that this has also caused me to experienced true joy in her miraculous healing and in spending the last year growing closer to her.

... I know that I desire to please God.

I know that I try to earn His love most of the time, rather than accept his grace.

I know that I feel intense guilt when I fail to be perfect.

... I know that for the first time in 3 years, my job brings me joy and fulfillment.

I also know that I have to give it up in one month.

I know that I am doing this because I love my husband and my marriage comes first.

I know that God will honor this sacrifice, but I know that it is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

... I know that I love my one year-old nephew.

I know that, to me, he is the cutest kid in the world.

I know that I am actually afraid that my own kids won't be as cute, or that I will love them as much.

... I know that I do not mind being alone.

I know that sometimes I need it, even crave it.

... I know it is easier for me to hide from things that are hard.

But I know that if I face them, tackle them, the reward is often greater.

... I know that I don't like the volume on my TV to be on an odd number.

I know that I don't like my food to touch.

I know that when I shower, I have a routine that I follow and if I deviate it freaks me out a little bit.

...I know that I don't like wearing sunglasses with brown lenses - I prefer black.

I know that, in spite of this, the pair of sunglasses I currently wear have brown lenses.

I know that I wear them because my own sunglasses broke and the only backups I have are an old pair of Chris'.

I know that I wear them everyday because they remind me of him.

... I know a few things.

But, sometimes, I feel as if I know nothing at all.