From the archives

I found this in my phone and thought it was sweet.
Written on 11/5/2015; what a difference a year makes.
And what a difference a consistent sleep pattern makes.
Thank you, Lord, for this life.

Today is one of those days that I've talked and texted and voice messaged ALL DAY LONG. I've laughed, I've cried. I've been cold and I've been hot. I've been up since 3:30 a.m. before that, I slept for a broken up five-or-so hours. When I have the opening shift, I'm so afraid of missing my alarm, I wake up about a dozen times to check the clock. Each time, I offer up praise for the remaining sleep I have and doze off again. Until the final toll, no later than 3:39 a.m., when I get out of bed.

Usually, I ease into the day without muttering a word beyond "good morning" to my coworkers as we stumble in from the dark street. But today was chatter from the start. Today was loud and messy. 

So as I sit here and feel the adrenaline rush of this day subside, I reflect on its content. I am overwhelmed, and overflowing with love for the people I have in my life. I am thankful that people want to talk to me, that people love me back. 

Who knows, maybe I'll feel lonely tomorrow, but today, my heart is full. Sure, I am strung out from talking so much, but I wouldn't change a thing about this day. 

My neighbor was robbed last night by people he had tried to lend a helping hand. As I was offering him my condolences, he told me, "you can't love the unlovely and come out unscathed. It's just the price of a Christian life." I was so impressed by his perspective. After our talk, I wished him well and went about my day. 

A few hours later, I was grumbling to the Lord about how I've been mistreated in a certain situation. Basically, I had extended a genuine, heartfelt gesture and it came back empty. I sulked and complained of how much I've invested into this relationship and now, I'm treated this way! Suddenly, I remembered my neighbor's wise words and it really stopped me in my tracks. You can't love and come out unscathed. But I will still love, and keep no record of wrong done to me.

Father, forgive my trespasses, as I forgive those who have trespassed against me. 
I'm going to be genuine, heartfelt and loving no matter the outcome. It's evidence that You dwell in my heart. It's an honor to love, not just an obligation.

So thank you, neighbor and also a special thank you to the one who hurt me. You are my teachers and I am grateful. 

I picked up some reading glasses at the pharmacy today. You know, to layer with my contact lenses.
Apparently, when you're 40something, your vision can change overnight. Which is exactly what happened to me this week. My distance vision is fine, but trying to read? Forget about it.
Oh aging, you won't get the best of me. I will rise up to meet you at every turn.

Speaking of vision, I've been pondering a lot of things recently. It seems that the spring is when I reassess everything. I always seem to slump in the winter and rally in the spring. So here I am, rallying. I'm realizing I have a lot on my plate, and being intentional to not only validate that for myself, but to honor the state I'm in. It's seems simple, and maybe a cliche, but you wouldn't believe how hard I am on myself. Why can't I get it together? Why do I procrastinate? Why, why, why?
And even with the Lord whispering sweet nothings in my ear..."you're my daughter and I'm pleased with you." Still, I'm so unforgiving.

Women get so blinded by the pressure we put on ourselves. We're hyper aware of our shortcomings while never grasping the magnitude of the load we carry, and all the things we do so perfectly. We shame ourselves, we dont remember we are temples. We should wear motherhood like a string of pearls; heads held high. Instead, we cower because we just want to do better.
Ladies, I'm just gonna say it, we need to change our inner dialogue.
What if we start giving ourselves a break? What if we start being sweet to ourselves? Can you imagine the force we would awaken in our lives?

So check your stats; run the numbers. Stand back and marvel at what you're accomplishing.
I am raising 3 teenagers (who happen to be awesome.) I'm keeping a house, planning and preparing meals, doing all the shopping, making time for friends, I'm approaching my 20th year of happy marriage, working almost full time. I'm doing a lot of important stuff!

All this being said, I've decided to lighten my load when it comes to finishing school. I'm shifting my major from Occupational Therapy (RIP, I was so excited about you) to massage therapy. Although I don't see this as a step down, it's easier to get in and to finish. I just want to get this show on the road and  put my hands to work in a healing way.

I always say, the beauty of being 30 is enjoying all the lessons you learned in your 20's. (Like boundaries- holler!) Maybe the beauty of being 40 is enjoying being yourself. Even with my declining vision, I have a new clarity and perspective. This priceless gift that comes with time; therefore, aging is my friend.

I've been afraid of changing 'cause I've built my life aorund you.

I'm answering the call from my old, abandoned blog. My heart is twisting and churning, and the only cure I know for this type of discomfort is writing.
For the last several weeks, I have been heart-achy and wistful, deep in the sentimental ocean over this milestone year for my firstborn. She's growing up, and I feel a little lost about it.

Over the next few weeks, she'll have her senior prom, take her first road trip to a concert in Tampa, and graduate high school. She also has a new boyfriend, whom she seems to really like. There's no trace of her trademark indifference over boys; a quality for which, many times, I have whispered my thanks to the heavens.

I take pride in her self preservation, as so many of her counterparts give their hearts away far too soon and easily. In a sea of swoony, heartsick girls, she has displayed restraint and fortitude; channeling her energy towards her pets and her friends. So when I see her and the new boy together, I feel like this relationship is going to count for something. He's probably going to be her first love. Often, one's first love is also their first heartbreak. Maybe it won't be for her, but as we all know, it's sometimes the hypotheticals which keep a mother up at night. I never want her heart to be broken, and I don't even care if that's an impossible dream.

I hope and pray that she is ready and has a great time with all these wing-spreading events. I hope they will bring happiness and growth. Above all, I hope I've made her ready for this big ole world.

 

My Alexandria

She's not without faults, but to me, she is her own type of perfection. This little girl who, on August 23, 1997, completely changed my world. I've been obsessed with her this entire time, and I don't see that changing any time soon.

So if any of my friends still read this blog, please say a little prayer for me. Pray that I will have the grace to let go in the appointed times, and the wherewithal to reel her back if she gets too far adrift. That I will find little ways to ease my anxiety when it gets to really brewing because that happens a lot. That I wont miss her too terribly bad when she is out living her life.

Oh, motherhood, just when I think I've settled in, another layer sheds. This love that stings my throat with tears and furrows my brow with worry, is also my greatest joy.