Not Always Happy

I swore I would turn off my phone and deactivate my Facebook account at midnight. 

Mother's Day. 

This day has never been up there with my favorite holidays. Actually, it's probably my least favorite aside from Valentine's Day.  From a very young age, being adopted brought on a certain set of feelings associated with Mother's Day. Of course I'm thankful for both my birth mother and my adoptive mother, but this day was always a reminder of the struggle I've had with both. One I know nothing about and have never met. One was the most difficult relationship I've ever had. 

After having three amazing kids of my own, I am always honored to be their mom, but that's true every single day of the year. Both my kids and husband honor me every  day with things they say and do to lift me up. I've always felt that the official day creates too much pressure for them and for me. 

I have never doubted that I am a good mom. I've worked hard to teach and model for my kids what I always wanted myself as a child. I'm confident in my parenting and know that this is my lasting legacy for generations after me. I was even working on how I would parent long before I had kids. 

Not having a happy day on Mother's Day seems to make people uncomfortable, so rather than speak up, I usually spare the uncomfortableness and just smile and wave. But it's not just about me. 

The problem I have with Mother's Day is that it doesn't naturally account for those that are grieving the loss of their mom or for those moms who've lost a baby before they even were able to meet them. It doesn't account for those kids who possibly lost their mom to suicide or for the moms whose kids don't acknowledge them any day of the year. It doesn't lessen the blow for those who want to be moms, but constantly are struggling to get pregnant or for those who were possibly abandoned by their moms.  

So many scenarios, so much pain wrapped up into a day. So, no, Mother's Day isn't always happy and for some it never will be. And that is ok.  

No Inspirational Speeches, Please.

I'm sure at some point I'm going to offend someone with my writing here.  This blog could be it. {Meh. It's my blog anyway.}

Many of you know that I did something pretty difficult the past week. I let my circle of trust know and as always they were supportive and understanding. Those in that circle were chosen a long time ago when Jace first got sick, but I learned how powerful the concept was while I was going through my divorce. Not everyone needs to know every detail of your struggle. Not everyone will be compassionate. Not everyone will know what not to say.

Not everyone will care. 

My circle of trust doesn't try to inspire me or give me advice or lecture me on what I should or shouldn't do or feel. They just ask how to pray, check up on me, and love me through it all. {they also pour me coffee}

I know I'm the so-called queen of the "feel good messages." I've been reading through past posts from several years ago and even I get annoyed at myself and my gratitude some days. 

I get it. It's great and life-changing to be positive and grateful and joyous. I know that is what we are called to do, but when people are hurting sometimes they just want you to get on your knees with them and say, "Yeah. Life sure can suck." 

Since Jace started chemo, I often think of Mary and how she felt watching her son die a slow, brutal, and difficult death. Even though she knew this was how it was suppose to play out that did not make it any easier on her heart, I'm sure of it. 

In 2013, there was a day when I was fearful of losing my own son. 
In 2014, I lost my mom much earlier than I expected. 
In 2015, well, let's just say it's already looking to be another painful year after a recent visit with my dad. 

Do I trust that God's plan is bigger than my life? Yes
Do I know that His promises will come to pass? Yes
Do I know that I'm redeemed already? Yes

Do I need to only hear the good, the promises, and how God doesn't waste pain? {my own words} No.

In my hurting and grieving, I need people to recognize that even in the promises life can SUCK. I know people don't like that word. I don't like it either. 

But I'm going to be very honest. If you know the details of my story and all the nooks and crannies of complication that have come about in the last several months, then you know I'm not exaggerating or asking for pity. Some days I think I'm the brunt of satan's biggest joke and he's just waiting for me to give up. {I'm not.}

Instead of pretending our lives are always happy, great and inspirational, I wanna see authenticity, genuine feeling and compassion and the ability to recognize that it's ok for life to be hard.

It's very hard for me to listen to PERSON A tell me an inspirational message when they never show they are struggling and are in the business of masking their hardest days. Life is perfect or so they want me to believe. 

I want to hear from PERSON B who has been in the depths of the valley and admits life is a struggle and isn't always sunshine and rainbows. I want to surround myself with those who have the ability to recognize: "this is hard," I can barely breathe through this day," or "today seems to be against me on all sides." 

I am Person B. These things I'm having to sort out, the feelings I'm having to deal with, the loss I'm continually seeing is hard and some days I'm not sure I'll make it through. 

And I'm ok saying that. 

Perfect Imperfection

So the imperfection about reading my blog is that I don't blog consistently, but you can bet it will always be from my heart and as genuine as I can capture it for you. 

 I've been quiet on here for a lot longer than I anticipated. Most days I just don't know what to say mostly because there is so much on my heart I cannot even begin to put it into words. There isn't a tweet or Facebook status or IG picture that can even come close. 

This "perfect imperfection" theme has popped up more than once the last week and I wonder if it's God trying to send me a little message. 

You see, I don't think people expect me to be perfect. I DO NOT feel anywhere near perfect and really hope they just see me as I am. Maybe deep down this is one of my childhood wounds that keeps popping up without me really knowing it. 

I debate a lot with what I share about my childhood and that is the sole reason that I haven't finished my book. I'm still figuring out how to present it all and, honestly, still trying to work through it all. Despite those that {thought} they knew my family, they definitely didn't see what was happening behind closed doors. It was difficult to go through and writing it all into words is proving to be even more difficult. 

My mom did expect perfection. I'm pretty sure if you ever talked to her you probably heard different. It was mostly in her actions and words if I happened to mess up even a little bit. My parents did run a tight ship, but for my mom there was a lot of anger with things not being perfect. I remember very often wondering why I would be grounded for something so simple as missing a room while vacuuming or for not loading the dishwasher to her level of expectation. 

I remember talking about anything that might not have been perfect was off the table even up until right before she passed. That included my brother's death, the plan upon either of them passing, the plans for the properties {in my name} that I wasn't allowed to visit alone, how to handle my brother's disabilities and his services or even our own relationship. 

It was like that pretty much my whole life. That's probably one of the reasons I've become an open book. If you are having a one-on-one conversation with me, I most likely will answer any question you can come up with. Cancer, adoption, death, divorce, grieving, faith, God, prayer.....

I so wanted to just be transparent with those around me, including my kids. I was tired of pretending that everything was great when it wasn't. So now I just go with what's happening and try to be as honest as I can while trudging through the valley. 

I do have some great support and have surrounded myself with those that I feel comfortable sharing my story or the story of now. But when I cannot even talk about the circumstances above without bursting into tears, I usually will just smile and come up with something nifty to say instead. If you happen to ask about my dad or brother, I usually can't answer you right away. I only get to talk to my brother once or twice a month and I only know what the drs/nurses tell me about my dad. I'm SUPER protective of sharing information about them right now especially publically on social media. 

There is NO WAY to spin the circumstances I'm in for the positive.  I mean, clearly, I know God is doing that for me even if I cannot see it, but humanly, all I see and feel is despair and desperation for this long season to be over. When I look back over my almost 40 years I see a lot of pain and struggling and wonder what I've been doing wrong or what I need to do different to get out of this desert. 

I am in this weird grieving stage right now that I know is normal. {been there done that many times before} 

I'm angry that I'm being left with so much to figure out when it all could've been avoided. I'm SUPER annoyed that all of these situations took a turn for the worse during my son's cancer treatment.  I'm sad that I cannot be closer to my dad or brother and that where they are is a much better situation than them being here with me in Texas. I'm sad that I cannot keep and preserve anything from my previous life, including the lake house that holds so many memories and moments. 

And then...

I am also grateful which makes it all even more weird. 

I'm so thankful that God has intervened in my life more times than I can even see or speak about. I'm so thankful for those at my church, at my work, and in my home that love me, encourage me, help me, guide me, cheer for me, pray for me, and allow me to go through all of these emotions at the same time. I'm thankful that NM takes better care of those that need assistance than TX does. I'm thankful for those who visit my brother and dad and help to take care of things they need. I'm grateful for the family I have and for all the days I get to see my kids grow and experience life. 

My gratitude really does overflow even when I'm sitting in the valley crying out for it to be all over. 

This morning I woke to a few empowering text messages: 

"You are AMAZING. You are BEAUTIFUL. You cannot be DEFEATED." 

"God has big plans for you and is going to use your pain to create gain in your life." 


Then, I headed to Instagram to scroll through some of my favorite feeds and found this gem from @pastorraley: 

{Ps. 37: The steps of the righteous or ordered of the Lord...David penned the words as a wise old king. Gone are the days of killing giants, military campaigns and youthful motivations. He now leads a powerful, united kingdom. His greatest weapon at this stage of his life is not a sling, a spear or a sword. His greatest weapon in his EXPERIENCE. He could look back on the goodness and faithfulness of Jehovah and realize that through it all, God had ordered his steps. There comes a point in life where your greatest advantage is the lessons you've learned through past battles and challenges. You come to realize you've actually been empowered by the journey.}

It's sort of miraculous how God uses others to confirm the message he put on my heart last night: 

God doesn't waste suffering. 

In Between

I use to wonder where people went after something (usually "bad") happened in their lives. I remember corresponding and connecting with them often and then they sort of just fell away (mostly on social media) whether it was a divorce, loss of a loved one, or illness. I always said a prayer for them because I knew at an early age how those "bad" things can isolate you. 

Now I'm "that" person. I've distanced myself from a lot of things I never thought I would. I've become very selective with what I do and who I share things with. This is definitely not the person I was before Jace was sick or even really before my mom died. 

I was listening to the radio the other day and like many of the daily devotionals on Air 1 this particular thought really hit me. 

{paraphrasing} Sometimes God has you go through pain because not only do you draw nearer to Him, but because people pull nearer to you during that time. Your story could be helping them and you don't even know it. 

So often I hear "people just want to follow and hear your story." Even today, a very sweet, funny friend gave me the perspective I so needed. I am always very puzzled why people that I do not know or who rarely talk to me want to friend me on social media, mostly Facebook. She said, "People want to befriend you, follow you, read your posts, read about your journey because even if they don't say it, they can relate to you or are learning from you."

It's very hard for me to see myself the way others see me and even more difficult to see myself the way God sees me. It's truly a constant tug of war for me. I don't think I'm necessarily being strong in this moment in time. I feel more weak than I ever have. I feel more vulnerable and less trusting of others. I see my faults magnified. I don't think I have a lot to offer right now to anyone much less what it takes to really inspire people. 

I've struggled a lot with what I share about my family of origin recently. It seems I have no problem talking about my experience with Jace and childhood cancer and how that's changed our family, but because my family of origin has so much history, much of it painful, I'm very selective on what I talk about. I know one day that will evolve and I'll be able to talk more about it and hopefully help others who've gone through a similar situation.  

Now that I'm in that in-between place of grief and healing, I totally get where those other people went. They are in a state of healing. They are learning their new normal. They are trying to make sense of all that went wrong and how it will all be right again. They are navigating who to trust and how to live again. They are relearning what they love and even how to love. They are growing into the people that God meant for them to be. 

So, thank you to those of you who are truly meant to be in my life and are being patient with me, letting me be real & raw and waiting gently on me while I heal and move from that in-between. 

"The will of God will never take you where the grace of God will not protect you." 

Open Letter to People Who Are "Different"

Dear People Who Are "Different," 

My life is full of the same lesson over and over again. In the beginning there was a sense of shame for not being like the rest. At first it was because I was adopted and then the list just went on and on. No, I do not speak Spanish even though people think I should because of the color of my skin. {Yeah, people actually have been angry that I don't and made horrible comments about it.}

For a while I played into the "game" of fitting in. I was a cheerleader for 6 years, after all. I didn't try my best in my classes and thought being more concerned with my social life and boyfriends was the answer. I look back and realize that I wish I'd been BETTER to my classmates and more supportive of those that were "different" than me. 

Then, in college, something crazy happened. I realized that I was really good at working with computers. It sort of came naturally. I walked into my first college programming class.  There I was "miss cheerleader" with a class full of Steve Job's wannabes. For a moment, I was pretty sure I couldn't do it. Afterall, I didn't "belong" in this group.  I convinced myself I was only good at the cheerleader thing and all that came with it. I mean THAT wasn't the person I was. 

It was then that I realized I had a decision. I could continue catering to what others said about me or I could decide to run MY OWN RACE and keep going.  2 years later, I had several computer programming classes under my belt and a list of hands-on computer projects I completed for real businesses. 

13 years later, I watched as my son began his battle with leukemia. I learned a whole new level of being "different" in that moment. I watched as people of all ages would stare at his bald head and his N95 mask. And again, I learned a new level of compassion for people like him. 

A year ago Avery came home from school and told me a little story: 

"Mama, today at the playground I was swinging and  _____ came up to me and said "If you want to be popular, you have to cheer with us." "

"What did you say, Avery?"

"I told them I don't care anything about being popular. I just want to swing."

You see, my point is THIS. There will ALWAYS be people judging you and labeling you. There will always be people who only know a critical voice. 

The only label that is important is the label you give yourself. The most important thing is what YOU believe about yourself, not them. You were made for such a time as this - whatever THIS is in your moment. 

This past weekend Avery stepped out and did something that isn't considered "popular." I saw, firsthand, how hard that cast & crew of 60+  worked and since I was the taxi, their long hours were also my long hours. 

As I sat in the audience of their last performance yesterday, I was greatly disappointed by the loud talking and laughter and criticism around me. I, as a parent, was offended that behavior like that is "ok." The teacher in me was disappointed that respectful audience participation wasn't taught. 

But even in my disappointment, I had such pride in everyone of those kids. They kept going and kept going in confidence. {On with the show, as they say} THEY have re-inspired me to remember all the lessons I've already learned. 

◦ Being critical or mean says more about YOU than it says about those you're criticizing. 

◦ Finding the 1% you have to offer that no one else can will elevate you higher than you'll ever know. 

◦ It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think YOURS is the ONLY path. (Paul Coelho)

◦ Being part of something bigger than yourself is really what life is about.  

◦ Being popular isn't going to do as much for you as you think it will. 

...and so as you continue to grow older remember what Avery says, "Just SWING and do your thing." :) 


xoxox

When You're Gone

I've been taking a break from almost all things these days that do not increase my faith or give me joy. I've been trusting the process even though I do not understand it. I'm committed to the unraveling. Based on my experience, God's unraveling ends in the most beautiful, breathtaking redemption ever. {right?!}

A friend emailed me today to ask if I was still around. 
My answer "Still swimming over here with God's hand underneath me not allowing me to drown." 

True story. He {like always} is my anchor in this storm. 

I'm learning a WHOLE lot about life these days. I use to pray for wisdom, but more recently, I just pray for guidance and discernment. 

There are SO many things on my plate right now in addition to #superJace and chemo. 

I can't help but think about the decisions that were made prior to these days. The days when I try to make sense of the "mess." {oh, yes. I know God WILL turn it into an amazing MESSage}
I've been reading a "heart-punch" book called THE BEST YES  {Thanks for the recommendation @hastobepretty!}

Let me just tell you. It's not an accident I'm reading this book  during this exact time. Making decisions isn't easy. Making decisions during grief is very painful. Making multiple decisions with little to no information while grieving is overwhelmingly painful. This book speaks to me every single time I begin reading and it's helping me find a way right now. 

So, I wanted to write about these decisions and give you a child's perspective because the season has jolted me to realize the importance of our decisions. 

Leaving your kids is not something people like sit and ponder on and I think it's probably a very painful thing to talk about but as I pray for the lesson in this season of my life, this is one of the lessons. 

What legacy are you leaving your kids when you are gone? 

Unfortunately most of my relationship with my mom was watching, listening, and learning what NOT to do. We thought differently, we responded differently, we made decisions differently, we thought of health differently, we did relationships differently, we parented differently....

So, as I sit here in my late thirties looking at all of the decisions laying before me, I cannot help but wonder if it all would've been different if she would've just truly thought about all that she was leaving us. If she would've decided one day that despite the pain, the discussion was necessary and just might make our grieving easier. 

From the time I can remember, my life was filled with stuff. In the beginning, after my brother died, it was a way for her to connect with me. I grew up never wanting or needing anything, because it was always there. I'm pretty sure from the outside it all looked blissful . But after watching my mom during her last day and now trying to sort out the mess {because if you were sitting in front of me now and I told you all the details, you'd say it was a BIG mess}, I wish I would've pressed her harder, though painful, to make some of those decisions with me/us. 

See, the stuff doesn't matter. Sure it mattered years ago. The houses, the land, the trips, the cars, the clothes.... 

But I can tell you today it doesn't matter. Not one bit. She couldn't take any of the stuff with her. I can't manage all the stuff and I'm finding it hard to even find time off to sort through the stuff that I might want to cherish.

 We didn't know I would be mothering a child battling cancer when my own mother died.

We didn't know just how bad my dad's Alzheimer's was because even when we would ask or suggest help we would get angry reactions. 

We didn't know {and still aren't sure} how to help my brother just live and survive because when we would ask for information we needed to know, we were shut off.  

Here's the deal. There is a healthy way to approach all of this. I did not get to experience this with my own parents. There was so much I didn't know and new things I'm learning everyday. 

Some days I get angry for being left with all of it and having no clue about anything. But most days I am reminded of the lesson. 

Every decision you make will either propel you and leave a lasting, loving legacy or those decisions will make you fearful and strangle that legacy. 

Every decision I make is the legacy I leave these sweet faces. Those decisions WILL affect them no matter how old they are when we have to say goodbye. 

I urge anyone out there, who might be avoiding the discussion with their family to please remember that in the end, your loved ones will grieve easier if you've helped them to know what your wishes are, what needs to happen when you are gone, who gets what, who goes where. . . 

Most often the hardest things to decide will determine our direction and our direction will determine the legacy we leave. 

2015 Manifesto

Manifesto comes from the latin word "manifestus" which means obvious or to make public. 

I've been on quite a journey the last few years and the older I get the more I feel like I need to learn which is quite the opposite of what I thought at 25. {who's with me?}

My 2015 Manifesto is quite obvious to all of us, but very few can follow through. I feel as though I've been, personally, learning these things here and there for the last few years, but for 2015 

I've decided they will be my target goal for every breath that I take. I think that part of what led me here was the "detox" I've been going through since October. 

Right after my mom died I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with grief, sadness, sorrow, responsibility. . . In addition to that, I was overwhelmed by the new role of making decisions for my dad and guiding my brother. Something about those moments led me to take a Facebook detox. Don't get me wrong I've always been a fan of social media and think it's a wonderful way to connect, but I also think it's a horrible way to consume a lot of time and take away joy from seeing what everyone else is "doing." 

It's been a few months and I've practiced the habit of posting very few updates, very few comments, and being less "like" happy. I've been more intentional of the way I'm spending my time. I left some groups that weren't enhancing my experience and turned off all notifications for all groups and pages. I muted some people from my timeline and deleted others completely. 

That detox taught me that I am in control of my time. I must be intentional about even something as trivial as social media. And if I should be intentional about something so menial, then I should REALLY be intentional about the things that truly matter to me: relationships, reading, writing, finances, family, health, connecting with God. 

It taught me that in order to guard my heart I need to guard what I see and hear. And let's be honest. Much of what we see or hear on Facebook or other social media outlets isn't always the BEST for us. {Is it bad? Maybe not. Is it good? Maybe. But is it the BEST?} 

It taught me to be who I am despite what the world says I should be. It taught me that if I spent less time wasted I would have more time to spend on the things that bring me passion. It has taught me that I probably need to speak less in order to HEAR HIM more. 

If I am wise about my intent I will pray more, love more, believe more and find my thankfulness even on the worst days. 

So, here's my public declaration for 2015. What about you? Do you have goals you're working toward for the new year? Do you write them down? Would love to hear how you'll be shaping your next level, so comment or email me!