So Let Go My Soul

I am afraid it is time for a dose of reality. 

My parents have sold their house.  

I grew up here. I began staying over immediately and progressively from the age of three to six I moved in full time as my Mom and Dad were unable to care for me and my little sister. We painted my room six times, and rearranged the furniture 167 times.  My grandpa helped me to ride a bike, shushed my sleepovers, made Minnie Mouse pancakes, played catch in the front yard, and taught me how to pick and complete my March Madness bracket from the Sunday paper. My grandma spent hours washing, brushing, braiding or rolling my hair in rollers, used her heart and hands to teach me how to cook family meals handed down generations and new adventurous recipes clipped from the newspaper. They teased me for locking myself out, constantly, and they took my door off the hinges for slamming it one too many times. They tucked me in as a little girl in my big bed, cheered every time I came barreling through the kitchen with some piece of great news or accomplishment, and they held me on the edge of their bed when my heart was broken. But mostly we did homework, watched Jeopardy, and sang under the stars in the hot tub. I think by now that it's clear the memories made in the last twenty nine years are imprinted in my character, my being, my heart, and the depths of my soul. And these are just my memories. I have siblings. And a large family, and an even bigger extended family, and to add to that all our friends that became family. So much life was lived in one home, so much love grew and was poured on all who were there. 

Granddaughters Brittney (2) and Cassey (5) Summer 1990

But it wasn't the house that made the memories. It was the family. It was my parents. They made it our home. I don't think my heart could contain any additional gratitude, pride, or love for what they have done there the last 29 years. But it is time to let go. It is time to move on. 

Just over a year ago, my grandma Judi was diagnosed with moderate/severe dementia and early Alzheimer's disease. First the good, she is in the early stages, she is responding well to new medications to aide focus and reduce anxiety. She may not be able to solve calculus or give great driving directions, but thankfully she still knows that I don't like mayonnaise on my sandwiches or that my sister is just months away from completing her masters degree to be an elementary teacher. She still knows and can recall the important stuff, for that we are all extremely grateful. Her health and her mind are a gift, one that we don't want to take for granted. Someday the Alzheimer's may come full force, but we cannot live our life in fear of that day. We can only celebrate every day that we still have her present. 

Granddaughter Brittney's College Graduation 2017

My parents have been aging, and that is no picnic to go through or watch. So just as I am always asking myself if there is anything I can do to help my children to be healthier, I have to ask myself the same for my parents. Evaluating the things that they need to be healthy I found myself comparing medicare plans, supplement plans, diets, prescription coverage etc. just trying to find the right concoction to reduce stress, increase relaxation, and allow them to enjoy this phase in their life. But it wasn't in a medical solution that we found the answer. 

It was baseball. And sunshine. And no stress. And the concept of being financially free. And a slower pace. It was a new home, in a new state. After my parents went on a two week vacation in Arizona for Dodger spring training it was clear that they came home healthier, happier, and closer than I had seen in awhile. It was refreshing and exciting. 

Catching a spring training game, go Dodgers!

Visiting the Grand Canyon.

Their current house was already on the market, it is too big, with a plot of land that requires upkeep. They equity was tied up, and they house was over 60 years and aging right along with them. They were already looking to downsize, but none of us expected that journey to take them out of state. They have family here, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, siblings, nieces, nephews, and a lifetimes worth of friends. They have a life here, a good life. 


They also have a good life awaiting in Arizona. They have a brand new house with all the upgrades, all the amenities, and none of the financial stress. Dry heat is one of the best medicines for arthritis and joint pain. Vitamin D and sunshine is proven to reduce depression and encourage activity. A clean slate is there for them to expand their community, to share their love with others, to create a new home. 


This is going to be hard for all of us. 
We can talk about all the future trips planned, the new memories to make. However, we are doing ourselves a disservice if we don't acknowledge and grieve a place that was the epicenter of our lives. My background is in finance and lending, so I have been the point person for the sale of this home and the purchase of the new home is Arizona. Staying busy with those details have kept me distracted. Just like packing, sorting, purging, and preparing for an estate sale has kept my parents, my mom, my aunts, and cousins busy. (My grandmother constructed a mini, eclectic, museum of sorts over the last three decades!) So we have all just pushed the reality of this to the back burner. I need to say it though. My heart is broken. I'm nervous for the future. Change is coming rapidly. Distance will make it harder to follow my grandmothers health as closely as I do now. FaceTime will become our best friend. None of that is enough though to negate the positives and the excitement of the adventure that lies before them. So I will choose to grieve for a moment, but to focus on the goodness, the provision of a new home, an answered prayer to relieve their stress. 

"So let go, my soul, and trust in Him. The waves and wind still know His name."

Congratulations to my parents on your retirement. You deserve all the joy, happiness, and love that your hearts can hold. And don't worry I'll pick a color scheme for my room in Arizona soon!

New home is Maricopa, Arizona!

Finding My Mother's Day Joy

Five years ago I was six months pregnant with my first child, a daughter. It was my first official Mother's Day. While I was excited for the "new mom" cards, flowers and brunch that initiated me into a new club, I was honestly mostly relieved.

I was relieved because I believed that I finally had a reason to be happy on Mother's Day. My backstory is long, but the point for this post is simple: I didn't have a mother.

Each Mother's Day I would take time to honor and cherish my grandmother. And trust me when I say she was worth all the praise I could give her and then some. But for days leading up to and all during Mother's Day, I felt a void, I felt left out.

For years I let it get to me, even after I had my own children. The "Mom" gifts everywhere, the cards I would never buy, the silly Facebook posts that I would never share. It was just constant reminders that my birth mother chose time and time again to not do the work, put in the time or build a relationship with me. It was a constant reminder that I was not enough for her. I began to quietly hate and resent Mother's Day.

Then in 2014 infinite wisdom came from my 3 1/2 year old daughter, "Mommy, we need LOTS of cards for all our mommies... like Gigi, and Gramma, and Nana, and Auntie, and Auntie Sarah, and Auntie Chelsea, and Mrs. Larimore, and Miss Mary, and ..." The list literally went on for about 5 minutes. And the best part about this list, is several of the women she listed, don't have children, they aren't "mothers." But with all her enthusiasm, her big heart and her ignorance to what society defined as a "mother" she taught me so much.

Mother's Day is about honoring women. It's about honoring the women who make sacrifices, who nurture, who tirelessly provide care, and support. Women who listen to all our dreams, fears, pointless ramblings and often the mundane actions of our day, all without judgment or impatience. Women who challenge us to push past our limits, who cheer us on, who celebrate when we succeed and who hold us when we fail. Women who help us to piece back together broken hearts, and who warn of clouded judgment. Women who simply showed up.

Those are the women that need to be honored on Mother's Day. And for me, I am so grateful that I have a whole team of women who stand beside me. I am also blessed that I have the opportunity to be a "mother" to my children, my nieces and nephews, my students at church, my friends and anyone that I can walk beside and show grace, support and love.

This Mother's Day, I will choose joy. Because truly, being a mother, being a woman, and being a daughter of God is worth honoring and celebrating. So to all women, traditional Mother's and "Mothers," sisters, aunties, cousins, friends and daughters of the one true king, I wish you a Happy Mother's Day. You are worth celebrating.

Supermom

"I don't know how you do it all."

I hear that phrase often; and while I appreciate the sentiments; I feel I need to be honest. 

I don't do it all. 

Currently these are the hats I wear: wife to Paul, stay at home mom to Grace (3) and Avarey (7 months), full time student with a dual major, daughter, cousin, friend, church member, and Cassey. Here's the thing, I love every single one of those hats, and I don't feel I would be complete without any of them. So I do my best, but I certainly don't do it all. Here is a realistic snapshot of my life:

1) My house is a disaster. I mean laundry mountain, toys everywhere, two months worth of mail scattered about, please don't look at my floors...or my shelves...or my pantry. My microwave and toilets are just begging to be scrubbed, but they are competing with the never ending line of dishes, trash and general day-to-day clutter.

2) I tell my kids constantly that I can't play, read, dance etc because I have to finish my homework. I spend 10 hours a week at campus, 3-4 hours meeting with my learning teams, and another 12+ hours on homework. I love learning, finishing school is an important goal, my degree will help my family, but honestly it feels like these next two years are going to take forever.

3) My relationships are suffering. If I haven't called you, seen you or remembered your birthday, please accept my most sincere apology. I have neglected friends and family, I have flaked on play dates, outings and meals. Believe me when I say that I would love nothing more than to catch up with each one of you over coffee or a meal. In fact, I would love to have you over to my house so I can host you and remind you how special you are to me. Sadly though, please see points 1 & 2.

4) I am a complete space cadet and forgetful Frieda. I rely on apps on my phone to remind me to pay bills, finish assignments, pick up the mail, give the girls baths, eat and spend time with my husband.

That's a small sample of the chaos in my life. But here is the good news. My house is ok. We can live here, and it's getting better. Paul is an amazing help and Grace is learning to take care of her things too. The house will get clean...someday.

I do make time to spend with my family. I recently prioritized my health and family. I need to take care of my body and my family - or I won't have anything to work with to accomplish my other goals.

I got my first B. I have been working my butt off and maintaining a 4.0- which is great, but completely unnecessary.  It's okay that I got a B. I worked hard, I learned the material but I am learning to balance my time and energy.

I'm trying to maintain my relationships. I care about you, all of you. And I hope that we can grab coffee, or better yet, that we can go sit in the shade while the kids play. I miss and crave adult conversation, but honestly I am too overwhelmed to ask for it. So please, call me, text me- I will make time.

So maybe it is possible that "I do it all." But maybe I am getting a B average. And that is something I am learning to be okay with.

Keep You Safe

I never understood truly what the meaning behind the phrase "to go all mama bear." I guess I always assumed that as a parent you would do anything within your power to protect your child from all harm. And maybe my own family dysfunction prevented me from seeing first hand what it means for a parent to fully and sincerely protect and elevate the well being of the child. But now, I am a parent and especially in the last year I have found myself being the ultimate mama bear.

There is a lullaby I sing to the girls each night by the artist JJ Heller and it's called "Keep You Safe" the chorus is this:

"My love is a light driving away all of your fear. 

So don't be afraid, remember I made,

A promise to keep you safe."

It seemed natural to me to promise that I would keep them safe, in fact I am pretty sure it is rule number 2 in the parent handbook. (Rule number 1 is to love them unconditionally) In the last year I have found myself exploring though what exactly it means to keep them safe, safe from what, or rather from who?

The basics are pretty obvious. We use the appropriate car seats, provide a safe home, nutritious meals, well child check ups, bike helmets, proper hygiene, hand holding across the street, supervision in public, stranger danger etc. 

But what about the harder, more gray areas? What about the people we are close to? The situations that don't have an automatic answer? What if you had a family member who was a constant drunk - do you take your kids around them, or would that be unsafe? What if a family member was physically abusive? Hard to keep your kids away, but seems pretty necessary to keep your children safe from any kind of hazard or potential abuse right?

I come from a large, funny, loud, and loving but dysfunctional family. Mental illness, codependency, emotional meltdowns, guilt trips and manipulation run rampant in my family. I will be the first to admit I was guilty of all of the above. (Maybe someday I will write my testimony of the power of how faith, therapy, a support system, and medication can change a person completely) But anyway, I know personally what strong demons can be within a person and how confusing, exhausting and emotional it is to suffer with mental illness. I do not wish it on my worst enemy and I pray for all those affected. Mental illness is a great deceiver. It convinces you that your perceptions of a situation are correct, it robs you of your ability to explore other opinions, perceptions or possible truths. It is near impossible to separate emotion from objective understanding. Even with the best of intentions and the most loving of hearts, mental illness can encourage a person to see the worst in others, act irrationally and hurt those around you deeply. Mental illness makes you forget that anyone else could possibly be as hurt as you, as well intentioned as you or as honest as you. Mental illness is a jerk.

So what does this have to do with my kids? Everything. 

For years I tolerated and empathized with the members of my family that I could not see eye to eye with. I played their games, I accepted the role of villain and allowed them to be a victim. I sympathized with their misery and I prayed for their demons. I made nice and genuinely gave them chance after chance after chance every time they emotionally erupted all over me with no regard to my feelings or anyone else in their path. There were no boundaries, no consequences and relationships could never progress past the surface. I felt empty, used and abused; because I was. It started as a child and continued as an adult. My self esteem, value, beliefs and understanding of what it meant to be "family" were completely distorted. There were members of my family who did their very best to protect me and keep me safe from it all, but unfortunately they were just too close to the situation. The only person who can stop mental illness is the person who suffers from it, no one else can change them. So you have a few choices: deal with that situation as is, set and enforce healthy boundaries or remove that situation all together. 

When I became a parent I tried the first choice. I knew that was just how it had always been and it was likely to never change. But then there was an instance that a family member had a complete emotional meltdown because I asked why they were late. She yelled, sobbed, threw things, made horrible accusations, immediately started referencing the past and drove off like a maniac. All of this in front of my four month old daughter. I got all mama bear. 

I sought the guidance of my counselor, my pastor and a trusted friend. I prayed and prayed and read and prayed and wrote and prayed and thought and prayed. I decided to take cues from the book "Boundaries" by Dr. Henry Cloud. I knew that what had happened was not okay on any level and that as a parent it was my job to protect my children from that happening again. I asked for three rules:

1. No discussing the past. It's over. Let's build a relationship for the future. 

2. There are only two people in this relationship. No gossip, no ganging up.

3. We act like adults. No meltdowns, no screaming matches, no temper tantrums, no feuds. 

 Unfortunately mental illness won again and a couple family members couldn't agree. In fact, mental illness convinced them I was being selfish, a bad Christian, mean and fake. That hurt in places so deep I can't even tell you. The worst part is that for me to enforce these boundaries and protect myself, my husband and my two daughters from the mental, verbal and emotional abuse that is constant in certain family members, we have to keep our distance. I know that this is killing some people in my family, the people who don't deserve it, the peace keepers and the matriarch. And that breaks my heart. But those people also are able to understand where I am coming from and since they truly know me and my heart, they know my intentions are to sincerely protect my kids. 

 "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." Proverbs 4:23 NLT

God has provided amazing opportunities in my life. I have the most wonderful, loving, supportive and strong husband, Paul. Together we have beautiful, smart, loving and happy girls. Our job is to not only protect our hearts, but theirs. As we raise them it is our responsibility to build their foundation, to train them up to know that they were created in His image and to fulfill His will for them.

So as hard as it is, as much as it hurts and as confusing as it may be to others; this is probably the most difficult challenge we face to fulfill our promise to our kids to keep them safe. 

**Here is the video to JJ Heller's song - it's our favorite lullaby!**

"Framily"

Six years ago I sat in premarital counseling with Paul and was issued a difficult assignment. 

Create a family tree. 

What??? A family tree? I needed a forest. How did I decide what family to include? Sure, I start with my nuclear family - Mom, Dad, Siblings, Grandparents - that's a good place to start right? Well crap. I don't talk to my mom, between my 3 siblings, we have 3 different moms, I have six grandparents, but I don't know much about 4 of them. Ah my head is already spinning. 

Okay, let's just focus on the "family" that's involved in my everyday life. Not necessarily blood relation, but the people I "do life" with. Okay so that includes my grandparents, they raised me, their friends that have been around the last 40 years and their kids and grand-kids. So now my "tree" was filled with people I lovingly called "aunt" or "cousin." I was good with it, I mean that's who I treated as family, but it still made no sense in tree form. 

This is just the tip of the iceberg. And this is why I failed that assignment. Not only could I not create a family tree, I couldn't define what family was to me or what the criteria for being "family" was. It was all too complicated.

So I didn't. I just didn't label it, I didn't define it and I sure as heck didn't over complicate it. I just continued to "do life" with the people I love. 

"Framily."

This morning my grandmother used the word "Framily." and it really got me thinking. At first I thought it was the perfect way to describe how complicated my family tree was; beyond our traditional family branches, were extended family branches, and then the friends-turned-family branches. 

This is how I will describe it going forward. Framily are the people that may or may not be related to me - but they are relate-able to me. We may not share ancestors or blood type; but we share joys, sorrows and life. It's not about where we come from as much as where we can go together. 

I can draw a family tree today. It would be a beautiful portrait of the people who are involved in my life. The people who support me, encourage me, influence me and love me. These people love my husband and my kids. The same way my grandmother's friends adopted me as "niece" my best friend has adopted my girls as her nieces. It's about love.

"We are all a little weird, and life's a little weird. And when we find someone who's weirdness is compatible with ours, we fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." 

Dr. Seuss

Schedule Attack

So I sat down last week with my phone, my computer, and several pieces of paper with scribbled notes on them. I was ready to compile a schedule. It took awhile, but I did it - I downloaded an excel template and I won - I filled in every box!! That's winning right? Here's a sample of what I started...

Looking at this schedule I realized it was mostly full, but still missing so many of the things I actually want time for. It proved what I already knew; there are not enough hours in the day. Feeling a bit frustrated and overwhelmed I sat down and started thinking about what I wanted a schedule to accomplish for me. Here's what I came up with:

• Organization of commitments 
• Management of household chores
• Dedicated quality family time
• Personal time to read, write, go to the gym etc
• Condense and make shopping trips more efficient
• Meal Planning

I scoured the web, Pinterest, excel templates and blogs. I found a week at a glance template that I like really well so far. I like that I can print it, draw all over it and post it in the kitchen to review constantly. I can loosely break down and organize my household chores for the week. There isn't room for great detail, but I think I like that. I like that this sheet will literally give me a snapshot at a glance. Here's my first draft:

I think this will work well for the general idea of what is going on day to day. However, it will not provide a detailed calendar or task list. I went back to my research. After downloading a few different schedule apps, I decided to try Cozi. It works with iPhone, Android and has a web platform. One family has a shared account and the calendars can be downloaded into existing apps - like Google calendar. It also has options for meal planning, recipe look up and storage, multiple shopping lists by store, to do lists, a journal and a birthday tracker. It does have a cost of $29.99 a year but I signed up for the 14 day free trial to see how it goes. If it lives up to what I've seen tonight then I will definitely be signing up. I like it best on the web platform, especially for inputting a weeks worth of information. But the phone app is well done and I like that Paul can easily access everything too. Here's what it looks like on my phone. 

Calendar View

Store Specific Shopping List

I'm sure my new system isn't perfect; in fact it's still just a first draft. But I do feel better already that I am able to get a better grasp on my time. Ultimately, now I can make sure I am using my time to accomplish the things that are most important to me first. Then maybe if I am using my time a little more efficiently then I can squeeze a little more out of the measly 24 hours in a day. 

Do you have any schedule tips? Great resources?

My Second Challenge

I was supposed to write this post on Monday. My first challenge was to identify an area that I need to drastically improve. I spent time thinking about it, but not dedicated time. It crossed my mind but I just couldn't decide on what area of my life was the first to get a makeover. So I kept going about my business getting more and more frustrated that I hadn't written this blog post yet. 

Then irony hit me like a ton of bricks. 

I need a realistic, just whelming (as opposed to overwhelming), balanced and organized schedule for our daily life.

I am so disorganized with our time that I am finding a pattern where I start things with good intentions but without a dedicated and committed time to finish them they will never get done. I have been cutting myself some slack since we recently added a second child to the mix. But ultimately I know that when I feel like I know what my goals are daily, how I am structuring my time and what my priorities are, then I can relax more, I can feel success as I check off my list and I can give myself, my husband and my kids the attention they need.

So, I have talked to Paul and tonight we are sitting down, after the girls are in bed, to lay out a first draft of an average schedule for us. We are going to brainstorm and put in place ways for us to keep the schedule and make changes.

Challenge 1 - Identify a first area for improvement - Complete - albeit late, but it's done.
Challenge 2 - Create, organize and share master daily schedule with plan for how to handle changes - To be completed by Friday 01/17/2014

Oh and a special thanks to my best friend Sarah for holding me accountable. She lovingly called me out that I was failing my first challenge. That's obviously exactly what I need and that's why I'm sharing this with all of you!

For those of you that emailed/commented or messaged me - have you set a first goal? Or at least identified an area that needs a drastic makeover?

Oh and this is how I feel when we are on a schedule...

New Year, Same Fear

I've never been the type to make New Year resolutions. The whole idea seemed like a waste of time. Because when I did it, I usually picked something superficial, easily measurable, and socially generic. That way when it didn't stick I could brush it off that it was just a silly resolution. And because on average only 8% of people actually succeed at their resolution, it wouldn't be shocking or even noticeable that I failed. Oddly enough in this whole scenario, the risk and likelihood of failure isn't my fear; my fear is the opposite. My fear is to be successful. 

Marianne Williamson says it best: 

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

As an introvert and as someone who doesn't like to 'rock the boat' this quote sums up my greatest and deepest fears. In my mind, if I am powerful, confident and leaving an influence on others, than I am ultimately responsible that the influence I am leaving is one that is positive and for the greater good. That is the terrifying part - I am supposed to be doing this for the glory of God - I am representing His plan, His strength, His love and His power - that's a pretty big job. I could be scared that I wouldn't do this well, I could easily be discouraged by the enormity of the request being made of me. But my fear isn't that I would fail at this challenge, or that I would fall short of God's expectations of me. My fear is that I will blow them out of the water. 

Discipline, organization, education and execution of tasks are strengths of mine. But my greatest and deepest strength is my passion. When I am passionate about something, my whole being becomes enveloped in it. I combine my head knowledge with the compassion and enthusiasm of my heart and I attack with all I have. I think of all the ways my life could improve if I stop holding myself back and allowed success to be my only option instead of settling for 'doing okay.'  This comes with great power. The same great power Marianne was talking about. It is encouraging, it is motivating, it gets you fired up and ready to take on the world. I suppose that is why that quote is used so often. But like most New Year resolutions that quote is empty without action. 

Now is the time for action. 

Instead of resolutions this year I am opting for a plan. It is a change that I want deeply and desperately, I have no idea how to measure it and I am yet to hear of any groups or clubs forming for support and accountability. That is where you come in. You my family, my friends and strangers who happen to find some way to connect through my writings. 

Hold me accountable.  

I plan to take the things in my life that I want to change or improve one at a time and attacking them. I plan to blog my goal, break down my plan for success then share my victories. I will ask for support, help and encouragement along the way. I will be vulnerable in my struggles, my weakness and my fears. I will be raw, transparent and authentic. 

To start I am going to spend today reflecting and praying for my first goal. Tomorrow I will announce my first goal and begin attacking it. Here are some of the many 'resolutions' I considered making. 

More quality time with family

Eat better, lose weight

Go on a mission trip

Finish 6 non-school books

Mentor someone financially, personally and spiritually

Write more

This is your official invitation to join me. This is our opportunity to create success. What are your goals? How do you see yourself being wildly successful and powerful? How can you liberate yourself and others?

 

My Angel of Comfort and Courage

When I was pregnant with my first and went into labor at 26 weeks to say I was terrified is an understatement.  I was frozen, I was lost but somehow I managed to pull it together and began fighting for both my daughter and my lives.  I am incredibly grateful and blessed that 3 years later, Grace is the picture of a healthy,  happy and flourishing child.

There were many times though that I questioned if I would ever see her take her first breath. I wondered if she did survive, if she would be healthy, if she would develop properly, if she would be able to have a "normal" life. And being on bedrest I had plenty of time to go through every possible scenario in my head. Worry, anxiety, frustration and depression loomed over my head constantly and heavily. And as the complications piled up, the pain and discomfort intensified and the risks began to increase. I was feeling disconnected and bracing myself for the worst. I didnt know how or where I would find the courage and strength to make it through my pregnancy without a nervous breakdown.

Cue my angel.

One night in the hospital I was trying to sleep and rest in hopes that the contractions would stop; I had a dream that would change not only my attitude but my faith. In my dream I went into my daughters room in the middle of the night in a panic, my heart heavy just knowing something was wrong. I felt out of control and scared. When I finally opened the door I stopped in my tracks and instantly felt peace. I was looking at my daughter, tucked in bed, sweetly smiling and perfectly content, kneeling next to her was my sister-in-law Tish. With a quick glance, an all knowing smile and slight eyeroll Tish told me to "go back to bed and rest, we're doing fine."

I woke up feeling a rush of comfort, peace and excitement. My daughter was perfect, she was healthy and while she was physically growing in my stomach, she was being spiritually grown and protected by her Aunt and her Heavenly Father. I still smile and fight a tear when I think of that moment. In some of my darkest hours God showed His mercy and love to me. He showed His power and His promise.  He reminded me I was not fighting alone.

Our daughter was born after 10 weeks on bedrest. She was perfect.  We named her Grace Tish, it means "Mercy or Blessing of Joy and Delight." There could not be a more fitting name for her.

I was brought to these memories tonight as I am awake, pregnant, on bedrest and facing more complications.  I'm trying to stay positive, I'm relying on the comfort and faith I have that this baby is a purposeful gift from God. But I will be honest, I'm still scared, I'm still worried and I am anxious to see my child and know that he/she is okay. It can still be overwhelming at times. But God knows when I need my angel.

I woke up sick, and made my way to the couch with a cup of tea. Feeling physically miserable, and mentally defeated  my mind started to wander to places that do me no good. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw our family memory book to celebrate Tish, as I read the quotes she loved, and stared at the pictures of her sure and confident smile I began to feel comfort. The baby began kicking and I remembered who it is that is holding my baby right now. So if I couldn't get emotional enough, or in case God thought I needed one more reassurance, Grace walked out of her room at 4 am while I wrote this post. She slept on her arm wrong and needed me to rub it and give her a hug.

As I tucked her back in bed, knelt beside her and brushed the hair out of her face, I whispered "go to sleep and get some rest, we're doing fine."

What am I doing this for?

For months I have been desiring to blog more. I have hesitated and procrastinated because of fear. Fear of judgment, criticism, not having anything valuable to say and rejection. These fears are stupid, unfounded but unfortunately they have ruled my brain.

This month I began a 24 day challenge to start writing more, conquer my fears and figure out exactly what it is my hear is desiring to say. I am currently on day nine, and I will just say the first week was rough.

The first few days I was doing great, I was motivated, excited and confident. But then I was faced with the reality of my life. I am busy, I am pulled in multiple directions and quite honestly I have been using so much of my mental energy on school. I just got overwhelmed and tried to put it all on the back burner.

An environment change seemed to be just what I needed though to get back on track. For the last 4 days I have been a sponsor for our middle school youth group at their summer camp. I am here to encourage them, disciple them and support them. (Oh and make sure they are in bed on time lol) What is great about this week beyond the kids, is that I have a lot of free time each day in a beautiful God centered space. Needless to say this has given me a lot of time to reflect and ask God what exactly I am supposed to do with this blog.

So I am sitting and pondering the question, "what am I doing this for?" Why do I feel the desire to write? What am I trying to say? Where do I want this blog to go? How can I impact others and speak God's truths?

I don't have the answers, but I am at least glad to be asking the question. My next step is to evaluate each question and keep moving forward with my writing efforts.

What are some of the areas that fear holds you back? What are the questions or actions that you can use to move forward to conquer your fears?

No risk, no reward

A couple of weeks ago I was gathering books to share with our Financial Peace University class. While going through the bookshelves to pick them all out I became distracted and stuck. I had come across my very first diary. Using my best lock picking skills and a bobby pin I forced open the book and began reading.

The diary started the summer before 4th grade, right before I left for my first summer at camp. The book was filled with scribbled writings, poems, love letters, even some dried roses pressed between pages. It ends at the summer before middle school. (All 7th graders back then kept their journal in a black and white composition notebook of course) Most of the writings were daily accounts of the drama and excitement of my life. I was an active, social, and average preteen. What struck me though, is I had a habit of writing almost everyday.

I began to reflect on my lifelong hobby and my therapeutic use of writing. As long as I can remember I have kept a journal. Writing my thoughts down allows me to organize them and have a better chance at understanding them. But it's always my secret place.

Over the last year, however, I have begun to share my stories and thoughts. I have found that by putting my questions, realizations and personal experiences in a blog that not only am I freeing myself of them but I have been able to touch others with my story. I recently shared my darkest memories and deepest wounds with the world. The relief I felt and the encouragement I received have fueled a desire for me to share more.

So that brings me to this post. A few weeks ago I was challenged by Jon Acuff to join him on an adventure. There were no details, no explanations - just the expectation that it would last 24 days and would be an experience to push me out of my comfort zone and into greatness. I accepted.

Now I know that my personal challenge for the next 24 days, starting tomorrow, is to let go of my fear and start sharing my blog postings more regularly. It's time to be vulnerable, honest, and true to myself. I hope you join me on this journey. Read my blog, provide constructive or positive feedback and be praying for me along the way. I appreciate all the support and encouragement and look forward to this opportunity for growth.

"Hello, My Name Is"

A close and special friend of mine tonight thanked me tonight for being honest with her. Not good friend-I'll tell you the truth as long as it doesn't get too deep- honest, but genuine soul and scar revealing honesty.  About a year ago I began telling my story to my family, and now I am ready to take off the mask for everyone. 

As far back as I can remember I have struggled with my identity. My childhood was messed up. There was neglect, abandonment, verbal abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, insecurity, and self-destructive behaviors. The "damage" was caused by both my parents. Some might speculate that it was my father mostly; he was a drug addict, horrible to my mother and gone most of the time. He made false promises, disappointed me constantly and hurt me deeply. But if I am being brutally honest, it was my mother that left the deepest scars on me.  

For the last 26 years I believed my mother didn't love me, but I was wrong. I have learned over the last two years that my mother is incapable of love. So before I share my experience I want to be very clear about this: I love my mother. I pray for her, I desperately want her to get the help she needs. I pray that God would restore her heart and heal her. Unfortunately until that process begins inside of her we are unable to have a relationship. 

My earliest memories of my mother are from when I was four years old. My father was using heavily and I had a new baby sister. My mother was broken. She was incredibly depressed, lonely and living in her own world.  I have distinct memories of her staring out the window for days. She wouldn't speak, let alone take care of my sister or I. At four years old I began to grow up. I changed diapers, fixed meals and bottles and kept my sister from danger. My grandparents would come get us at times and when we would go to their house I got to be a kid. This began a pattern of my relationship with my mother Doni. Over the years she would pull herself together, then when she would get overwhelmed or her world would fall apart, we would go back to my grandparents. 

Most of my memories from my time with Doni are easy for me to recall and horribly painful to relive. I felt like I was the black cloud in her life. I loved my father, I missed him and that made her angry and sad. I loved my grandparents and missed them, that made her angry and resentful of my relationship with them. But most of all I hated her. I hated that she used me to take care of her and my sister. I hated that she would bring up memories or pick fights with me just to make me upset and as miserable as her. I remember so many times having to hang up the phone with her or leave the room because she would push me to an anxiety attack. Her boyfriends were a nightmare. They were sleazy, scummy and users. They would verbally assault me, taunt and torment me and there were several times that one of them would hit me.  She didn't believe me. She let it happen. 

Becoming a teenager was hard. The good news was I was living full time with my grandparents. I had to go visit on breaks though. She lived in California so it's not like I could go a weekend at a time. Things would always be okay the first week or two but it was inevitable that crap would hit the fan. Every fight we got into was worse than the one before. I was so angry and resentful to her. She felt the same toward me. 

I was confused, hurt and I honestly just didn't understand why she hated me so much and yet she was a completely different person to my sister. I struggled with insecurity, abandonment, co-dependency and self-worth from the age of 14. At 16 I decided that if my own parents couldn't love me, I must not be worth it. I attempted to take my own life. 

I thank God constantly for the blessing of life He gave me. I was not successful in my attempt and after a stomach pump, in-patient therapy and tons of counseling I made the decision to give myself a chance. I worked very hard in therapy. I had to face the ugliness of not just my childhood but of the person I had become. Over the years I used coping and survival skills that were not healthy or representative of the person I actually wanted to be. I used alcohol, sex, manipulation, guilt, money and food to attempt to fill the hole in my heart. I would do anything and everything to gain attention and affection. I would hurt the people closest to me when I suspected they might be on the verge of seeing my ugliness and leaving. I put on a mask.

I wore that mask for so long that I actually began to believe it was who I was. I believed I was a manipulative unlovable person. Then I got to know someone that would change not only my life, but me from the inside out. I gave my heart, in all it's shattered pieces, to God. I asked for forgiveness, redemption and love. God gave those things to me immediately and completely, it just took me some time to actually accept and receive them. I questioned His faithfulness and sincerity. But finally I felt peace. I felt relief. I felt love and I felt whole. My life verse is Romans 8:31 "If God is for us; who can be against us?" For the first time in my life, at 27 years old I fully and completely trusted that not only was I loveable but God created me in His image; His image!!! I was no longer the broken child of my past.

Once I got to know the person that God created me to be I began on letting go of the demons of my past. I am still in therapy today, I still struggle with anxiety and depression. I have reclaimed most of my life and repaired several important relationships. The one relationship I don't feel capable to reclaim is the one with Doni. 

Two years ago I had to set boundaries with Doni because her frequent outbursts and dramatic fights were upsetting and triggering the post traumatic stress responses from my childhood. It wasn't healthy for me to be so overwhelmed and overstimulated while going through therapy and learning how to be a new wife and mother. I asked her for simple boundaries: please don't bring up the past and please don't involve yourself in my other relationship (the ones I hold with my father, sister, grandmother etc) Sadly, she not only refused but had another dramatic meltdown. I remained hopeful that she would calm down and we could someday move forward. I stayed quiet about my "side" of the story. I didn't want to add fuel to the fire and well no one knew about my childhood so how would they understand me now? We didn't speak for two years. I reached out. I sent pictures of Grace, I sent texts, I added her on Facebook. I was trying. I didn't get a single reply.

The final straw was a week before Easter. Doni unexpectedly moved back to Oregon. I was upset at first, mostly because I am pregnant and I really am not in a position for extra stress. But I knew how hard it was on my family that we were not speaking so I reached out again. I offered to go to coffee or counseling, what ever she wanted. She refused me again. It was at that moment that I accepted the fact that my mother does not want to fix things with me. She does not want a relationship with me or my children. It confirmed all my feelings and instincts as a child that she cannot love me enough to give up her resentment and anger. 

I'm sorry that my family is hurt by all of this. I hate that my grandmother and sister are in the middle. But I am also sorry that no one knows how this is hurting me. My childhood was much more difficult than I ever let on, I still have deep secrets and scars. I desperately desire a relationship with my mother. My heart is broken that it is likely I will never have one.

If you've read this far, I have one request. Please keep me and Doni in your prayers. My wounds are still hurting but they are also healing. I am not going to be silent anymore. My name is no longer regret and it's no longer defeat. 

My name is Cassey, I am wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, cousin, niece, and a child of God. 

What Makes a Mother

2 years, 7 months, and 22 days that I have been a mother. It seems both a lifetime and a quick breath. I have had the privledge of the last two years being the most intense learning experience of my life. So now as we are excitedly expecting our second baby (yay yay yay!!!!) I have begun to reflect what makes a mother.

Becoming a mother was a crash course for me; I'm sure it can be for most women, but I really felt like I was starting with a fractured perspective of what my child would need or expect from me. Here is a snapshot of the "mothers" that have influenced my life.

My own mother. As long as I can remember we were never close. When I was a child there were circumstances in our life that did not allow for a traditional mother-daughter relationship. I was her firstborn and I truly believe that I was wanted and loved. Unfortunately between her and my father our family was riddled with drug abuse, mental illness, dysfunction, and fighting. I know they both loved me and my sister, they were just not in the place or equipped to raise children. This left me with a confusion about what unconditional love was, and a blurred line between supporting family and co-dependency. Due to all the insecurity and instability I grew up extremely confused about what was expected in the mother-daughter relationship. However, I have also learned through my own experience as a mother that we all do the best we can with the tools we have. I am grateful to my mother for the gift of life and that ultimately my mother gave me what I needed in the end, she let me go.

At the age of 4 I started the gradual process of moving in with my grandparents. By 8 years old I was living with them full time.

My grandmother. A majority of my childhood and on into adulthood my grandmother, Judi, has been my primary maternal influence. There was always a clear understanding that she was my grandmother, but over the years and through experience it was impossible to not grow closer and bond as though I am her daughter. She taught me so many things; things about life, love, family, spirituality, values and myself. We bickered and fought - after all she had taken on the full time job of raising me. We struggled at times and we definitely had our times where we could not see eye to eye. In our brightest of days and our darkest hours though she showed me that she would never leave, she would always love me. Even if we don't agree - she would always find a way to support me. We struggled with co-dependency but as I became an adult and matured we were able to redefine our relationship. She is no longer in the position to raise me, but to guide me. We have both put years of work into our relationship and it truly shows. Through my relationship with her I have learned that life takes work, relationships take compassion and love takes patience and passion. Today, and everyday, I am still learning from her and will be forever grateful for the role she plays in my life.

At 11 years old my dad married a woman named Michelle. I didn't want to like her at first but then she taught me how to bake. How can you not fall in love with someone who makes homemade cinnamon rolls?!?!?

My step-mother. When my dad and Michelle married the first time she made it known to me that she was not just my dad's wife - she was my friend. Over the last 16 years her and my dad struggled, divorced, had a child, were apart 6 years, came back together, remarried and are now the happiest and healthiest I have ever seen either one of them. Also over the last 16 years, regardless of her relationship with my dad, Michelle has continued to invest in our relationship. She never let me even think that what was going on with them had anything to do with me and it would not affect the relationship that she and I had. She has always loved me because I am Cassey, not because I am Ron's daughter. She moved away with my brother a few months after he was born. She wrote letters, sent pictures, called and would buy me train tickets anytime I wanted to visit. Because of her efforts and understanding that I was busy/flaky/immature teenager there has not been a gap in the relationship I have with my younger brother - no matter what else was going on in our lives. I will forever be grateful for her patience, flexibility and dedication to our relationship. She herself has had personal struggles over the years. She has disappointed me and let me down. But she has always been honest and forthcoming with me. In working through the hard times, she taught me that mothers will make mistakes, but just like it is my job to take accountability for my actions, a mother should lead by example. She has shown that she respects me, she is invested in me and it's all because I am me. Today, I know how to choose love.

While geo-caching with my friend Paul he decided that we should go to his parents house because his mom had just gotten something funny that he wanted to show me. So at 10 o'clock at night, in her bathrobe I met my mother-in-law.

My mother-in-law. I joke that I married Paul for his mom. Well it's partially true. Susie and I became fast friends. The more I got to know her and witness the relationship she had with Paul I became confident that she was the type of mother I wanted to be. I absolutely love hearing stories from her about raising her children. I can hear in words how she made them her priority, she was intentional in knowing them individually and meeting them on their level. But if you watch her talk about her children you can see in her face how much love, pride, gratitude and excitement she has for them. She will be the first to tell you she made mistakes or had 'terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.' But she will also be the first to tell you, that you get up and do what needs to be done. I've felt like she extended the same love, support and excitement to me early on. I hope someday to be as excited for my children when they fall in love, I hope to extend the same offer of relationship with their future spouses. Today, she is one of the first people I call with good news or bad. We go shopping, watch our shows, chat and spend time together the way I imagine an adult mother-daughter relationship would do. I am grateful for her friendship, her guidance and her love and support. I consider her to be one of my best friends.

So again for 2 years, 7 months, and 22 days I have been a mother.

Myself. When Grace was born I froze. I was suffering from postpartum depression and post traumatic stress disorder.  I did a really good job at going through the motions of taking care of a baby. Gracie's needs were my top priority - almost to a fault. I knew how to take care of her, but I wasn't sure how to be her mother. I struggled with connecting and bonding with her, I was 25 years old and terrified of a baby. Through counseling, prayer, talking, crying and lots of writing that I realized that I did know how to be a mother. It was taking all my influences and experiences, good and bad, and trusting what I had learned. To be a mother I needed to trust myself. Upon reflecting on the maternal influences from my life I finally knew what I needed to do. So when Grace was 9 months old I went in her room. I promised her that I would be good to her, but that I would make mistakes. I told her we would make the best memories, and have fights. I committed to her that we would always work through our issues and that no matter how we disagreed it would never affect how much I loved or supported her. I explained that our relationship would grow and change throughout our life together, but that we would do it together. I told her to expect that there would be things in her life she can't understand, challenges would be plentiful but so would blessings. I promised her I will be there.

Today, I have kept my promise. She is two and half years old and regularly we are working through things. I'm learning to set boundaries and she is really good at testing them! But we have fun, she is happy, trusting, loving, secure and an absolute joy and delight.

I've finally learned that it is simply our children that makes a mother, it's up to me to be a good one.