?

A question for my kids: If you love your Taggie blanket/stuffed bunny/favorite book/boots/stuffed toy so much, then why do you lose it SO frequently?!?!

I < 3 $$$

"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:21

I like money. Pretty much have since I first learned what it was. I was recently reading a diary from my childhood (a gem in itself!) and found an entry from age 8 where I wrote, "Today, Dad gave me $5 for stamping Blimpie things!" and another, "Dad made me work with money today and paid me NINE BUCKS!" It was love at first sight I guess :)

Luckily, my parents taught me to save, and that is what I did. I babysat in the summer and kept all the cash stuffed away in my room. On my birthday and on Christmas, I deposited half of what I received into my bank account. When I got my first job at 16, I set myself up on direct deposit and it all went straight into my checking account, which probably would be more accurately described as a savings account because aside from gas and the occasional movie out with friends, I didn't withdraw much. I liked imagining my money growing into large piles in the bank. I don't think I've actually been completely broke since I was about 7. It creeps me out to even type that in case it will somehow jinx me.

This relationship with money worked fine, for the most part, until about 3 1/2 years ago, when we purchased our home. We put 20% down on our house and let me just say, I struggled with watching that money leave our bank account. I mean yes, we were buying a HOUSE, but man...that was a lot to exit the account at once. Ouch. About the time we became homeowners, Tim started his first "big boy" job at Farmers Insurance. When we got married, I basically insisted that I would be in charge of our money, and Tim didn't have a problem with that. But it wasn't until we bought the house and he started his new job that we really had a significant amount of money coming in and going out for me to manage. I did not like the "going out" part that comes in the form of mortgage payments, utilities, insurance (So many forms of insurance! The Padens and we make our livelihood from the insurance industry so I am grateful for it, but seriously, it's annoying) along with diapers and daycare. Money was moving.

I continued to have a sort of hoarder mentality with money, but it was a lot harder. I did my best to manage what Tim brought in, and we were very blessed, but looking back, I didn't really know what I was doing, and I wasn't the best steward of our money.  I was inconsistent, dirt cheap in some areas and spendier in others. In general, the not-so-giant pile of money I'd envisioned was slowly but surely dwindling.

It wasn't until Tim lost his Farmers job this past January (can't believe it's almost been a year, wow!) that we got a little wake up call. We were okay during this period, but we needed to make some changes. My good friend Jessica shared with me about her experience following Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, and helped us enter the world of zero balance budgeting and cash envelopes. Tim and I listened to his CDs while we painted the bathroom one weekend. Dave made a lot of sense to us. So when Tim got his new job with PHLY, we jumped on the bandwagon.

"Honor the LORD with your wealth, with the firstfruits of all your crops" Proverbs 3:9

 

Dave Ramsey is a Christian and encourages the biblical principle of tithing. To tithe, by definition, is to return 10% of your earnings to God. Specifically, the first 10%. Because when it comes down to it, it is all His anyway. We are just stewards of what He has given us, while we are here. In theory, this made sense to me. God has richly blessed our lives in more ways than I can count. Yet somehow, it still...hurts...to give Him a cut of it.

When Tim and I first joined our church, we didn't give at all. We both recall hearing demands for money from the pulpit throughout our Catholic upbringings, and when we came to our new church, we didn't hear about money and we were glad. So we didn't worry about it. We didn't have much money, after all. I was student teaching full time and paying for daycare, after all. We'd worry about that later, someday when we had enough money. Whatever that is.

We eventually started giving a little, once Lexi was out of daycare. Not too much. Not enough that it hurt. But it made me feel less guilty.  That's probably the main reason we did it- guilt. Not a good reason, in my opinion. But it was what it was.

So, Dave Ramsey. I printed the budgeting forms off and started filling in numbers. Despite the fact that Charitable Giving/Tithing is the very first thing on Dave's budgeting form, I skipped it, budgeted for "real" essentials like food, the mortgage, and gas, and then, I'd take whatever was left and mark it down under Charitable Giving. Not very charitable, huh? I was still doing it out of guilt. Eventually, I got into a rhythm of setting aside a mediocre amount to give to our church. It didn't really hurt to give that much. I felt okay about it, because all of our needs were covered first. And honestly, if things were tight one week, I would just skip it and justify it in my head. I mean, we are a one-income family after all. With small kids. So, y'know, we have challenges.

Then one day, while I was sitting in church, I heard a whisper of something in my head. I can't even remember if the sermon was about tithing, but I was thinking about our not-so-generous giving, and I heard this whisper in my head, telling me to give a certain amount of money. It just so happened to be double the amount we were giving at the time. I had this feeling that we should start giving that amount. But it was scary...because it was a lot. It made me nervous. I pictured my imaginary money pile disappearing. I worried that we wouldn't have enough to cover our expenses. But I talked with Tim about it, and we decided to give it a try. So I wrote the first check, worried, but trying to trust God.

I've always felt blessed. I have a supportive husband who is a dedicated father. My kids are healthy and kind. I am blessed with sweet friends and family members who love us. We have a warm home and we never go hungry. We are blessed. But I swear, right after I heard that whispery voice and decided to put my trust in God by giving back more...extra little blessings started popping up.

I won a free laptop. I took the kids to Crown Center one day, where they were given wonderful free books at the book store there and a kind gentleman let us visit Science City on his pass so we could get in for free. We got a letter in the mail telling us our mortgage payment would be decreasing by $10 per month, and in the envelope there was a $224 refund check. Tim got an unexpected bonus at work. I received orders for my new cake business. I was called to participate in market research and made $70 testing diaper wipes and $75 talking about turkey packaging (seriously). This all happened within a month's time.

I'd heard this verse before, but I began to understand it on a whole new level:

"Look at the birds in the sky. They don't sow seed or harvest grain or gather crops into barns. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren't you worth much more than they are?" Matthew 6:26 CEB

It's funny. As I began writing those larger checks, I tried to trust God, in my own imperfect, human terms. I thought to myself, "Well, maybe Tim will get a good raise next year and we won't have to worry about this anymore." I did some calculations in my head about tax returns, cost of living increases, our premiums for our new health insurance plan...in short, I tried to make a God thing into a human thing. I tried to understand something so much bigger than I am. But I can't. Because God's ways are great, a little mysterious sometimes (turkey packaging?) and completely beyond what I can conceive of. He has His plans for me. For peace and not disaster. 

I'm putting my trust in Him. Maybe I can't make the numbers all make sense to me each time. I'm still not where I want to be as far as giving goes, but we have made progress in the right direction. In addition to increasing our giving at church, we decided to sponsor a little girl named Yerlyn through World Vision. We do the best we can, and place the rest in His hands. And I am still working on this one...

 

"Your way of life should be free from the love of money, and you should be content with what you have. After all, he has said, I will never leave you or abandon you." Hebrews 13:5 (CEB)

 

 I am going to try to stop mentally hoarding so much. Dave Ramsey talks about the fact that if your hand is closed tightly around your money, it cannot flow. It won't be able to leave your hand, true...but, at the same time, it won't be able to flow into your hand, either. I will graciously accept the blessings that I have now and open myself to trust that God will continue to bless us when we trust Him.  

 

"Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it." Malachi 3:10

Coming soon...

...a post about money.

Baggage

"So then let’s also run the race that is laid out in front of us, since we have such a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us. Let’s throw off any extra baggage, get rid of the sin that trips us up, and fix our eyes on Jesus, faith’s pioneer and perfecter. He endured the cross, ignoring the shame, for the sake of the joy that was laid out in front of him, and sat down at the right side of God’s throne." Hebrews 12:1-2 CEB

Throw off any extra baggage, get rid of the sin that trips us up, and fix our eyes on Jesus.

Easy enough, right?

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been working on this. It is challenging yet refreshing. It's easy for me to deal with obvious, visual clutter. Scoop it into a bag and donate it or throw it away. In fact, I did that just yesterday. The kids were away with my awesome in laws and so I took the opportunity to purge all of the junk that's gathered on top of surfaces. I scooped up huge piles of papers off my desk, the kitchen table, and Lexi's room. Lexi, my almost 5-year-old, is a budding author/illustrator, and she has a hard time getting rid of any of the paper that she marks upon. It makes sense sometimes. Sometimes, she spends a great deal of time writing a story or drawing something beautiful and detailed. Those pieces of art get safely tucked away in my desk. But among the beautiful, there are many many scraps and scribbles and abandoned works. They are stacked in corners of her room, my desk, tucked under furniture, and cluttering her closet. But it's hard for her to say goodbye to any of them. Because at one point, they meant something to her. At one point, she took pen (or marker, pencil, scissors or glue) to paper and had an idea or tried something. Put her heart into it. Sometimes it works out the way she wants it to, and other times, it doesn't. But she still clings to it all.

It is hard for us as adults to acknowledge the extra baggage in our lives sometimes. I have a particularly hard time letting go of relationships and commitments that I've poured part of myself into. Do you ever struggle with that? We cling just as tightly as Lexi does to every scrap, every commitment, every relationship, every item we purchase, everything we've ever poured part of ourselves into. Because it is hard to let go! It is hard to admit that we don't really need something that we spent money or time on, or that something we've committed ourselves to is no longer a valuable use of our time. It is hard to throw off extra baggage when we can't decide if it is baggage or not, when we might need it someday, when casting it off might make people look at us differently.

But friends, if we don't cast it off, it gets heavy. It weighs us down. It takes up our time and our energy. I've learned that I can't do ALL things and do them ALL well. But if I let go of some of the excess, if I prioritize, I can do SOME things, REALLY well. But I need to allow myself some spare time and energy too. Time and energy I need to do what that verse says: fix my eyes on Jesus. We can't fix our eyes on Jesus if we don't take our eyes (and our hearts, and our time and energy) away from the baggage that's pulling us down. We can't see the beauty of something really special if scraps and abandoned works and half-hearted commitments obscure our view.

What baggage have you struggled with? What would you like to let go of so you can fix your eyes on Jesus?

Simplify

Sometime in the last year or so, Tim and I have sort of started a journey of simplifying our lives. I believe it started with Leo Babauta and his blog ZenHabits or maybe his book The Power of Less (PS I just realized I can link to stuff, so now I am going to) but anyway, we suddenly became interested in the idea of living more simply. Tim reads several blogs on the topic and sometimes shares the articles with me, and in general, we've just been trying to be content with what we have and where we are.

It has been an enjoyable process. I can say that my desire for "more!" has been lessened greatly when it comes to belongings. I occasionally add things to my Amazon wishlist (mostly books I want to check out from the library) or come up with an idea for a gadget that would make some aspect of my life a little easier (a small cookie sheet, anyone?) but I am not consuming at the rate I once was. I don't feel the need for new clothes when the ones I have are fine, nor the desire to to spend money to fill a void (aka retail therapy). Part of this is because we don't have the extra money for that kind of thing anymore :) We enjoy going places together, but I don't feel that I always have to be somewhere or have plans made. I don't like being in a hurry all of the time. Sometimes it is just nice to sit on the deck while the kids play in the yard, or take a family walk around the neighborhood and talk to each other. I feel like I've taken a giant chill pill and have experienced a great deal of contentment because of this.

I've been trying to cut away the excess in my life and I don't just mean the physical stuff. I mean the commitments too. I've been looking at the different things I've committed myself to and have been asking: What purpose does this fulfill? Is this a worthy use of my time?  And sometimes, the answer is no. And when it is, I might decide to no longer be a part of that. I am trying to cut away the nonessential, the things that drag me down, and the distractions.

Oh, the distractions. Facebook, email, internet, TV...they try to suck me in and suck up my time, and sometimes, they win. Especially Facebook. dang Facebook! I vacillate between wanting to delete my account and relying on it for communication with friends and scheduling activities for the kids. I don't even want to know how much time I waste on the stupid internet. Grrr. There's progress to be made. More simplifying to be done.

I feel like this whole experiment has given me some perspective. My time here on Earth is limited. I don't really want to rush through it all, spend a bunch of time on tasks that aren't meaningful, and getting super grumpy because I never get a break or any time to just reflect. I would rather take the time to love the people I love and use my gifts to make a positive impact. I would rather glorify God, give thanks to Him for my abundant blessings, share His love with others. I would rather pause and reflect, think things through before reacting harshly, and just enjoy life.

Laundry, dishes, the budget, dirty diapers, messy floors (seriously, I don't know how my kids make the floor so messy every single meal, but they do) will call for my attention, and I will answer. Eventually. But in the areas I can control, I'm choosing to simplify and live with purpose the best I can.

I am thankful

I talk about being thankful a lot because I have a lot to be thankful for. I am thankful for my family and for my friends, for my home, for the fact that there is food in the kitchen, clothes in the closet, books on the shelves and peace in my heart. I am thankful that God has brought me to where I am today.

I went to Women of Faith with some friends this weekend, and it was a great experience, a real time of encouragement and empowerment, a wonderful reminder of all He has done for me and all that I can do for His people. I know that He has amazing plans for me, and I have a feeling they might be kind of big. We will see.

What have I been up to lately?

1. Listening to this song. I've heard it on the radio many times and I got to see it performed LIVE today. It was powerful! Check it out: You Are I Am

2. We've decided to sponsor a child through World Vision. We've talked about it before and then the WOF conference sealed the deal and last night we chose 5-year-old Yerlyn from Costa Rica, who loves drawing, just like another little girl I know. I am so excited about this.

3. I've been trying to reduce my number of commitments in order to make a bigger impact in the most important areas of my life. It is freeing.

4. I have been teaching Lexi at home. Did I mention I am homeschooling her this year? Well, I am. More about that in future posts perhaps. We are giving it a test drive, using a few different curricula and doing Pre-K/Kindergarten. I mostly love it so far. Right now we are working on reading and writing mostly, and she is also taking an Intro to the Stage class and checking out every single bug that comes within 10 feet of her. She says she wants to be an entomologist when she grows up. I feel really blessed to have this time with her and with Lydia.

5. Reading! I am reading again and it feels so right! I just reread Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World and I loved it even more than the first time I read it (which was when Lydia was just a few weeks old, so my brain probably wasn't in on it too much then). It has inspired me not only to read more, but also to start reading the news. So now I've got NPR and USAToday apps and I am following things outside my four walls and feeling informed.


I hope this finds you well, my friends. Blogger tells me that a few people are reading this, or maybe that is just me re-reading my own writing for errors ;)  I want you to know that whatever you are going through right now...won't last forever. You are loved. Don't forget that!

Musical Interlude

Happy Saturday!

I just wanted to share a couple of my great songs that were really important to me this past winter. Hope you like 'em!

Song of Hope - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wz3vyyy01aw

Desert Song - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjutYdo6opI



And I especially like this one right now:

Hello, My Name Is - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuJWQzjfU3o

That's about it for now.

Annnnngggggziiiiiiiieeeeeeety

Anxiety. I have trouble with this word, because I pronounce it "aing ziety" but that doesn't really make sense based on the letters. Should I be saying it differently? Like "ann ziety"? or "ainks iety"? Maybe that's it. Well crap. Either way, the English language is pretty dumb. Not gonna lie.

Annnnnngziiiiiiiiiiiietty. What is it all about? I'm not a doctor so I'm not getting into the clinical definition, cuz I will probably mess that up, but I will share my experiences with this awkward word.

The first time I felt anxiety (and knew that's what it was) was when Lydia was about 10 months old. I'd stopped nursing her and I think that caused hormones to do a crazy dance and explode on me. That's how it felt, anyway.  So I felt kind of gross and weird one evening and just went to bed, hoping to sleep it off. Then I woke up around 4am and felt like I was going to throw up. So into the bathroom I went.  I didn't throw up but I felt horrible. The more I woke up, the more I started to worry. What the heck was going on? My heart was pounding, I could barely catch my breath, and I felt nauseous.  To tell the truth, I felt like I was dying. I wondered if I was having a heart attack or something. I really felt like something terrible was going to happen to me.

So I woke Tim up and told him I thought something bad was happening and I was scared. I described what I was feeling and my wonderful psychology major husband told me (from the bed, because he was unconcerned) that it sounded like I was having a panic attack. I'd never had anything like that happen to me before, and I really felt like there was a good chance I was going to die right there in my unfinished bathroom. It got a whole lot worse, and then, just like that, it was gone. Over. I felt normal again, and kind of embarrassed, because I freaked out there for apparently no reason.

That's the thing I've learned about panic attacks. Unfortunately, I've had a couple more since then. If you've never had one, I don't recommend starting. If you have, then you know what I mean. They suck, and you can't help it. At the time, even though it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, you feel like you are doomed, like you are dying. You try to convince yourself that you will be fine, that there's really nothing to be worried about, but there's this little tiny thought in the back of your head asking, "What if I'm wrong?" and it just spirals out of control from there. People have asked me, "Well, WHY were you so anxious? What were you panicking about?" but that's just it- there is no good answer, at least not for me. There's not been some specific thing I've consciously been worried about. I mean, one woke me up in the night for crying out loud! It was crazy.

I did go to the doctor after this initial middle of the night panic attack. It wasn't a doctor I've ever seen before, so I didn't feel super great about it. She prescribed a medication that I was really nervous about, and I never filled the prescription. I was worried about how it might affect my ability to take care of my kids. I figured the panic attack was just some sort of hormonal issue linked to my stopping nursing and I tried to just pay attention to how I was feeling and keep my family in the loop.

I continued to go to my support group and I continued to call my problem anger, because that's what it looked like to me. I continued to feel better and learn some techniques for dealing with what I was feeling, and I leaned on God more than ever to help me through it. I was amazed at how much better I felt just knowing that there was a group of people out there who loved me just the way I was, despite my brokenness, and who were also broken and working toward bettering themselves. I felt accountable to my friends in the group, yet loved unconditionally as well. The cool part about the group for me was that I got to know people first by learning about their struggles, and then by discovering all of the other beautiful parts of who they were.  This is backwards from most other relationships I've had in my life. Usually, I've gotten to know people on the surface only to slowly uncover their quirks and "issues" (for lack of better word) but with these friends, I knew their struggles first and their triumphs and other characteristics next. It's been awesome, really. To love others despite their flaws and be loved and accepted despite mine.

That's part of the reason why I share this story with you and with others. Will you still love me despite my flaws? I'm at a point in my life where I am seeking deep, unconditional relationships. I want to understand my loved ones and for them to understand me. I am not afraid to share who I am because I know that I am loved by many just the way I am, most importantly, by Jesus. I want to spend my life, my time, my energy, building healthy relationships with those I care about and who care about me.  I don't have time to pretend to be someone I'm not, or to act a certain way so others will like me. I don't want you to feel like you have to pretend to be a certain way for me to love you. I want the people that I love to feel like they can share who they are with me and be loved.  I am trying to live my life to be pleasing to God.

"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:76

Thank goodness for this. God looks at my heart, not at my money or the fact that I can't dress myself well, or the grime in my kitchen. He won't judge me because I don't have it all together on any given day. He knows me better than anyone else because he created me to be me. It's a relief, really. I don't want to spend time and energy trying to fit into society's mold of what I am supposed to be. Ain't nobody got time for that.

About a year after my first panic attack, I decided to make another appointment to see my doctor. I'd shared part of my story with a friend, and she told me that she'd had a similar experience and that medication had helped her immensely. It's funny. You'd think that when I first started noticing something was wrong, after Lydia was born, that I would have sought my doctor's advice. Actually, at that point in time, I didn't even think that I could have had any sort of chemical problem. I just kind of felt that I was failing at being a mom. Others made me feel like I should suck it up, have it all together...but I couldn't. I thought it was just because I wasn't good enough.

But after speaking with my friend, I considered for the first time that maybe, just maybe, there was another issue. So I went to see my doctor, and I told her all about how I'd been feeling and about my anger, my group, the whole nine yards. And as I started talking to her, I started to realize my problem wasn't anger. I heard myself telling her how overwhelmed I felt, even about the littlest, dumbest things. And she heard it too. She said, "I don't think you have an anger problem, I think you are experiencing anxiety." And it was like a light bulb came on. And I knew she was right. I wasn't an angry person. Despite the fact that I'd had issues with yelling and screaming, it wasn't because I was angry. It was because I was suffering from some crazy anxiety. I felt overwhelmed, sometimes more legit reasons and other times, not so much. But hearing the doctor legitimize what was happening to me was empowering. She said it could be a chemical thing from the birth of my daughter, it could be something else, but that there was medication to try to see if it would alleviate any of my issues.

I feel like my life has been given back to me. I feel like a new version of my "old self". The easygoing person I once was has returned, and I love it. I still lean on God a lot, and try not to compare myself to others, or listen when they try to tell me how I should be, or how they are or were, but I also know that there are some crazy chemicals in my brain that needed an attitude adjustment.

I marvel when I think- how long would I have struggled if I hadn't been willing to share my story? If I hadn't owned up that yes, I needed help, I wouldn't have found my group. If I hadn't found my group, I wouldn't have leaned on God. If I hadn't shared the truth about the group and my issues with my friend, I wouldn't have made an appointment with my doctor, and I wouldn't be feeling the relief and peace that I am now.

I'm not sure what the future holds for me, but I know that I am not afraid, because God is with me. I'm not afraid to share my story, because maybe, by sharing my story, I am changing someone's life for the better, just as my life has been changed by the stories of others. God has a plan for me, just as he has a plan for each of his children. Sometimes, we are shaped by the hard parts. Anxiety has been a hard part for me, but it has shaped me and changed me for the better. And that is something to celebrate, not something to hide.

I just want you to remember this: God does not look at us the same way we look at each other. He doesn't judge us by the cleanliness of our houses, by our mistakes, or by our shortcomings. When he looks at us, he sees his beautiful, broken children who need his love and his healing. He loves us just the way we are. Whatever issues we have that are too scary to share with others? He can take them all. He wants to take them all. Thank goodness.

Part 2: I don't know what to call this part

Sorry for the delay. I guess it was kind of a cliff hanger. Oops. It is hard to get this story into words.

It has been 9 months since I attended my first meeting of Celebrate Recovery, and I am not even sure where to start explaining the journey that I've been on and where it has taken me. Wow.

What should I tell you? What's important here?

I could tell you that through this group, my life has changed.
I could tell you that I have my anger under control now, and have found out that it was actually anxiety at the heart of everything.
I could tell you that I am a better mom than I've ever been before, and a better wife too.
I could tell you that I am a person filled with joy, hope, and peace. So much peace.
I could tell you that I have searched my soul, admitted my shortcomings, and am no longer ashamed to admit that I am less than perfect. 
I could tell you that I have met the most amazing people, friends to walk the journey with.
I could tell you how I've been humbled, over and over.
I could tell you how I have delved into hurts from my past to uncover how they have shaped me and how I can give the hurts to Jesus for healing.
I could tell you about the amazing music at my group.
Or about the free pizza.
Or the fact that the group has changed into something even more amazing than it was before, a place for all people to move forward in their lives.

If you want to chat more about the group, please just let me know. I would love to share more with anyone who thinks they might like to take one step forward today. 

The pastor of the group once spoke about how we can share our stories with others. He explained that we can't explain it all, we won't necessarily be able to outline, step by step, how we got from point A to point B. But we can say this: I don't know what it is, but I know that once I was blind, and now I can see.

So that's what I am going to say: I can't explain exactly how I was healed, or how I transformed from a struggling, anxious person into a peaceful person, or what all went down with that...but I do know that once I was blind, and now I can see. It's all because of Jesus. And whatever words I do say, will surely not be able to do that justice.

I just got back from a meeting of the group and celebrated that it has been 9 months since I surrendered to Jesus, 9 months since I last felt completely hopeless, 9 months since I first stepped out of the darkness and into the light.  It may not sound like a big deal to you, but it is. For realz. When I first walked into this group, I felt completely hopeless, helpless, and that I was a bad person who was never going to be the person I'd always dreamed of becoming. I felt sad and alone. But all of that has changed! My life has changed completely over the past 9 months and I want to shout it from the roof tops! I celebrate that. Thank God I was able to put my pride and fear aside and take the first step toward becoming a better me.

So, 9 months. Pregnancy lasts nine months. It is sometimes painful, somewhat mysterious (just think about what's really going on in there...weird) and it takes time. Many pregnant women lose their patience and just want the baby to get the heck out! But, it takes time. It takes time for something so monumental to happen, for a glob of cells to turn into a tiny human. Really, how amazing is that process?

 I suppose it is similar to recovery, really. It's part of God's plan. It takes time. It ain't always pretty. But God can take one thing, whether it be a blob of cells, or a broken person, and turn it into something brand new, a baby, or a brand new person. And I guess that's the best way I can describe what has happened to me. I was angry, overwhelmed and lost, and now I am joyful, peaceful and confident that God has a pretty sweet plan for my life. He transformed me. I was reborn, in a way. In order to do that, I had to realize that I couldn't fix myself, no matter how hard I tried. I had to be humble enough to say, yep, I need help. I can't do it anymore. I need help. I need something bigger. I need God. And then really, once I surrendered it all to Him, once I gave my life to Him and said, HERE! I can't do it any more, I am putting it in your hands! He said: finally! He knows the plans He has for me, plans for hope and a future. But I had to let go of being in control of everything and let Him do his work.

What does that mean? What does it mean to let God do his work? To me, it means getting out of the way. It means to read his word (aka the Bible) and to pray to him for guidance, and to let him direct my steps. Not myself. Not my family or my friends or society or peer pressure or the media (cuz they like doing that kind of thing I think?) but just Him. I just had to rest in Him. I had to stop comparing myself to others (and their Facebook selves) and I had to stop hearing the voices of people in my head judging me for the choices I made. I had to realize that I am worth dying for- Jesus died for me, knowing that I am a broken person, I'm imperfect, I have sinned and will sin again...but it doesn't matter, because he loves me anyway. Just the way I am. With unwashed hair, dust covering my living room, piles everywhere, and pizza for dinner AGAIN. He loves me JUST the way I am.

And he loves you too. Seriously. JUST the way you are. Even though you are not perfect. Even though you make mistakes. Even though you are hurting. You are loved by God. Right now, even if you don't understand what that means.

It's a really great feeling. I feel so free, so lighthearted, so peaceful. Troubles will continue to come my way, but God is there for me. Even when things don't go my way. Life will go on. Life here on earth is SO fleeting, so short. It doesn't matter that we don't have much money, or that my kid sometimes says bad words in front of old ladies, or that I forget things, or say the wrong words, or make mistakes. It won't matter any more, because this life is fleeting, and much better things are waiting for me on the other side.

So what I want to tell you is that if you are reading this, wishing something would change, worried about an aspect of your life, embarrassed of a secret, unable to stop a behavior, just struggling, I want you to know that there is hope for you too. I am a changed person today. You can be a changed person too. You just have to take one step forward.

A Beautiful Journey - Part 1: "Confessions"

Well, the time has come. I am going to do some sharing. Grab yo' popcorn. It's probably going to be a jumpy ride because I am not sure how to neatly organize it. I've also been debating whether I am ready to share this much detail with others yet. I'm being vulnerable here. It's a messy journey. But I feel that I am ready to share some hard things with you, because in sharing my story, perhaps you can find something that will change your story in a positive way.

~~~~~~

Where to begin? I have shared about how Tim & I became a family of 2, and shortly thereafter, a family of 3. Then, two years and eight months after that, we became a family of four when this little treasure joined us:

I was crying in this picture because I was in awe of her. She was beautiful, and super chubby, which surprised me because Lexi was and still is very thin, like her dad. But I cried a lot in the days and months to come, too.

People told me that going from one to two kids would be hard. Really hard. And I believed them. I figured I would be exhausted. But I had no idea how overwhelmed I would be. It was hard!

It started almost immediately after we brought her home. Having a newborn is tough. Nursing was rough for the first 10 days or so. I don't want to get graphic, but it was painful. I knew I wanted to do it, and that it would get better, so I powered through it and ended up nursing her for about 10 months when we were both done. But that first week or do...was tough. I cried just about every time she ate, which was about every 2 hours. It sucked.

On top of that, there was the sleep deprivation factor. When you have your first baby, they tell you to sleep when the baby sleeps, so I did. But when you have one baby and one toddler, you can't always do that. I am a person who does not do well without sleep. I recall bawling my eyes out many times just because I was SO TIRED.

Then there was the guilt. Not gonna lie, there were many times where Tim would feed Lexi breakfast and then put in a movie for her before he left for work so I could try to get a little more sleep. My poor kiddo's life was turned upside down. She went from having me play with her and take her places all day long to having me a very cranky, emotional zombie. And I felt like crap about it, because I wanted to be the mom I was before Lydia was born, but I couldn't. I no longer had the resources (ie sleep) to do so. Looking back, I can say that becoming a big sister was a very good thing for Lexi, but in the moment, I felt guilty.

So yes, having a new baby was hard. It is hard. Everyone who has a new baby can tell you that :) I get that. It ain't supposed to be sunshine and rose petals. I wasn't expecting that. But I also wasn't expecting how it affected me.

 Lydia's birth changed something about me, or brought something out in me that I hadn't seen before, and that really sucked. Even months later when she and I were sleeping better, I felt anxious. I'd never felt anxious before. I would lose my temper with Lexi over really dumb things. I would scream and cry and spank and just freak out, scaring my kid and myself. I don't know if it was PPD or hormonal changes or what, but it really sucked. I would just feel completely overwhelmed about the littlest things and feel anxiety building up in me until I exploded into an adult temper tantrum. After it happened, I felt like such a jerk. What kind of a terrible person would scream at a 3 year old about something so dumb? I can't even think of any examples any more, but most of my outbursts were unwarranted, undeserved.

So the guilt deepened. Here I had two beautiful little girls, two sweet and precious babies, and I was a monster. I tried so hard to fix myself, to take deep breaths, walk away, count to 10, all of the strategies the parenting books and magazines and doctor's office hand outs suggested. They would work for a while, a few days or weeks, but then, I'd blow up again. I knew that having a 3 year old with a new baby in the house was going to cause the 3 year old to act out. But I also knew that my reactions were way over the top. And I knew that I didn't want to be that kind of mom. I was out of control. But I was afraid to tell anyone about it, lest they judge me, or worse.

I think the saddest part of this story is that I let the feelings of guilt and shame weigh me down for so long that this all went on for over a year. About 16 months. I felt ashamed of myself and hopeless, because I couldn't figure out what to do. I was scared that I would lose control and someone would get hurt. I was scared that Tim would give up on me. I had shared with him what was going on and he was the most amazing and supportive husband I could ever ask for. I can't even imagine being in his position, having your spouse come to you and confide that she had anger problems that she was taking out on your kids. I felt like I was letting him down, letting my kids down, letting myself down. I loved all of them and I wanted better for them than that...better that who I had become.

Tim stood by my side through it all. He loved me, supported me, and was more understanding that I ever could have expected. More understanding than I think I could have been. I started researching support groups, calling phone numbers, trying to find help. It was a humbling and scary experience. I was afraid of what others would think, so I didn't tell anyone. I kept searching but couldn't find anything that seemed like a good fit.

I hit my breaking point one evening when we were decorating our Christmas tree. The girls were having a blast, wearing their footed pajamas and digging into boxes of decorations. It had been a good day. But for some reason, anxiety started to build up. I started getting frustrated with Lexi, who was overly tired and no longer listening. I kept asking her to stand in front of our tree for a picture, but she wouldn't. She blatantly defied me, and I reached out and popped her on the back, right in front of Tim. In front of our beautifully lit tree, with Christmas music playing in the background. I hit her and she cried in Tim's arms, and I cried, and that was the end. I ruined a perfectly good day because I couldn't get control of how I was feeling. That was rock bottom. It remains a dark memory.

The good news about rock bottom is that, from there, you go up.

How do you know when you've hit rock bottom? It's when you put your shovel down and stop digging.

 I found help in the form of a group called Celebrate Recovery. It's a 12-step Christian recovery program for people dealing with hurts, habits and hang ups. (Here's the website for info about the general program: http://www.celebraterecovery.com/ ) I am not sure exactly how I discovered this group, but the chapter I attended met at a local church. I scoured the website for as many details as possible and thoroughly contemplated whether it would be a good fit for me. I actually recall seeing a flyer about the group at the library once a few months before this point, but feeling like I wasn't "messed up enough" to go. Ah, pride.

I actually attended my first meeting on November 29th, 2012, before the Christmas tree incident. I was terrified to go and I cried almost the whole time I was there. I mostly cried because I was in the right place. The group is there to help people struggling with all kinds of problems, from anxiety to alcohol, depression to divorce to drugs, to family members with addictions, and more. It was scary to admit that I needed to be there just as much as the people standing beside me. The format of the evening was listening to some worship music, a sermon from a pastor, and then breaking out into small share groups. The kind where you say "Hi, I'm Melissa and I'm struggling with anger" and everyone says "Hi, Melissa." Yep. That kind of group. On that first night in November, I attended the newcomers group where the pastor explained everything about the logistics of the group, what to expect, etc. He said something that I have quoted many times...

"If you think the people around you need Jesus more than you do, you're experiencing pride. If you think you need Jesus more than the people around you, you're experiencing shame."

Wow. That hit home. I'd actually felt on both sides of that spectrum before, but had been unable to put it into words so eloquently.

Still, after that first night, I wasn't sure if it was a good fit for me. Did I really need that much help? It wasn't until after the Christmas tree incident that I realized the answer: yes, I did. I had lost hope that my life would ever be okay again, that I'd be able to "get it together" and be the mom, wife and person I'd always dreamed of being.

But this group, Celebrate Recovery, showed me that that was not the case. That I was God's daughter, and he had not forgotten about me. That is how I started on the road to recovery. And it has been a beautiful journey indeed.

I'm still here!

I am still here, and a really long post is brewing. I just have to find the time and the energy to get it out :) The last 3 or so weeks have been crazy. Between my beautiful friend's wedding yesterday (congrats Kayla!!) and all the July birthdays in the Franzen family (including my own) things have just been hectic and we've fallen out of routine. The children are off their nap schedules (good heavens!) this mama is staying up late thinking about weddings, needing to exercise more, friends moving away, VBS, cleaning out the hall closet, Bible study, how to add more hours to the day and creeping closer to 30. Also, there is a ridiculous mountain of laundry to contend with, as well as a full-blown toysplosion that spans multiple rooms. I am physically and emotionally exhausted, but really happy and blessed too. As always.

I guess I just wanted to say hey :) I am still here! I'm mustering up the courage and energy to type out something heartfelt and revealing.

In the mean time, here are just a couple of things (people) that I am thankful for:

 This lovely and whimsical girl is my dear friend Kayla. Yesterday, we celebrated her wedding! I think Kayla has been dreaming about her wedding since the time we met when she was 16 and I was 17, so it was really exciting to share her special day with her and see her dreams becoming reality. This girl used Pinterest and a hot glue gun to create an absolutely gorgeous wedding, straight out of a story book! I am so blessed to call this beautiful woman my friend. We have had a ton of fun together over the past 9 years and have shared an assortment of experiences ranging from Walmart craft kits to singing karaoke and scrapbooking to engagements and babies and hard times too. The funny thing is that I met this sweet friend in the dining room of a nursing home, of all places. I trained her on her first day as a server and impressed her by dropping an entire tray of glasses in the dining room. She's been there for me through it all and Kayla is one of those friends that I can not see in a while and then pick right back up with where we left off. I know I could call her any time of day and she would be there for me. She's a diamond in the rough and I love her very much! Congratulations on your wedding, my dear! Looking forward to future shenanigans :)

This is my friend Jessica with her husband and daughter. I am so blessed to have met Jess a few summers ago during VBS at our church. Sometimes in life, God gives you friends that you can share all of yourself with- the good parts and the not-so-good parts- and Jess is one of those friends. She's a gal that I love to have hanging out in my kitchen all day long, talking about every topic under the sun while our kids play (and occasionally hit each other with shovels). This woman once created lunch for our kids using a bare pantry and the milk from a sippy cup. That's talent, folks! She's been a friend that I can confide in that loves me even after seeing my dirty laundry (literally and figuratively!) and I am so appreciative of that. Jess is moving away next weekend and while I am going to miss her crazy bad, I am so excited for her and her family as they embark on a new journey together. I love you, Jess! Can't wait to hear and share in this new chapter of your life!

I am so blessed that God has given me these friends, and countless others, to share my life with. I may not have much money, a big house, or fancy clothes, but I am rich in blessings and for that I am so grateful.

Oh, one more thing.

This guy here. Still thankful, still blessed by his perpetual love, support and understanding. He played single dad yesterday so that I could spent the day with my friend and I really appreciate that. Also, you guys all know how I have a talking problem, right? As in, I can't stop? Well this guy here patiently listens to me, and a lot of the time he is just getting ready to go to bed when I decide it's time to dive into a deep, time-consuming topic or rant. I just want Tim to know how much I appreciate that! I love you . And thank you, for everything.

Thankful...Wednesday.

Today was one of those days where things just seemed...overwhelming. The day got off to a rushed start, I didn't take the time for prayer and exercise that usually grounds me...and I just felt tired and blah and really sad, too, because I found out that one of my amazing friends is moving away soon. I felt like I didn't have any of the right answers for the kids, spent the rest of the grocery money for the month (and there is an entire week of July remaining) and I just couldn't get out of the funk. Not gonna lie, I cried a lot. Hormones are probably involved in some way.

Today is also my baby's birthday. Lydia is 2 today and I really have no idea how. Lexi was insanely jealous of the attention and gifts Lydia got, and made it known in a loud and irritating way. I didn't have my usual patience to deal with it. There's a load of laundry that has been in my dryer for days, Tim is out of undershirts, dishes and Play-doh are everywhere, and I need to throw together a birthday party on Saturday. Exhausting. I tried to flip through my Bible a few times but I just wasn't feeling it. Nothing spoke to me. But, as the day drew to a close, this quote kept going through my head:

“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.” 

I felt defeated today, but tomorrow is a new day. A fresh new period of 24 hours for me to start over with. Tomorrow also happens to be my birthday. It has a lot of potential.

No matter where I am, what I'm doing, how I'm feeling, God is there for me to lean on. Nothing is too big or too small for him. I have to say it again: nothing is too small for him. That means I can pray about my funk, my hormones, my kid chewing on the woodwork in her room, the laundry, and feeling lonely. I can pray about anything, and he hears me. He is there with me when I decide to try again. I'm never really alone.

I recently read that in tough times and struggles, I need to praise God. One way to praise God is to give thanks for all the blessings he has given me. Cause there are a lot. Instead of dwelling on the crappy stuff that is bothering me, I am going to take a few minutes to be thankful for my blessings. It probably would sound nicer if it were "Thankful Thursday" but today is Wednesday. Sorry.


 I am thankful for my happy, healthy 2-year-old. I was pretty nervous about having another baby, but the second I laid eyes on her, I loved her more than I could have ever imagined.

 She was due the day after my birthday, and came instead the day before. She knew better than to steal my birthday ;)

I love this little girl! She is a little ray of sunshine and gives the best hugs. I am so blessed to be her mom. Happy birthday, Lydia! You are not a baby anymore and while I don't miss those long nights when you cried until I ran the vacuum cleaner, I can see you growing up before my eyes and it is bittersweet, little lady.

And this little girl too. I am so thankful for Lexi and so blessed that she is my daughter. She has given me a run for my money lately in so many different ways...but she is happy, healthy, sweet and smart. She saved up her hard earned quarters to buy Lydia a present from the Dollar Tree and wrapped it herself in special paper that she decorated. I am so proud of how kind and thoughtful she is. And the girl knows how to dance. She is so special, unafraid to be herself, and passionate about life. Sure, she may do things that I can't explain, understand, or change...but she is my little girl and I will always love her.

I am thankful for my friends. The ones that are in this picture, and the ones that aren't. Thanks for loving me just the way I am. Sometimes I am awkward, embarrassing, overly emotional and just plain weird. I am really blessed to have friends who love me through thick and thin, support me through hard times, love my children, teach me how to properly scramble eggs, dress myself, scrapbook, and let my hair down every so often :) I love you, friends. Thanks for loving me back.

I am thankful for this man.

I get to spend the rest of my life with this amazing guy. If you aren't jealous, you should be. He is always there to listen to me cry, complain, or act like a 5 year old, without judging. He loves me for who I am and I am so thankful that I have him. He puts up with me, and looks good while doing so.

I am blessed in countless other ways. Thank you, God, for trusting me with so many gifts.

Tomorrow is a new day. I will try again.

I am thankful...

I am so blessed. So very, very blessed. Sometimes I get caught up in the daily grind and forget to be thankful for all of my blessings.

Here are just a few of the things I am thankful for today, in no certain order. There's just no way I could name all of my blessings, of course.

I am thankful for Tim. He is an amazingly supportive husband and a wonderfully involved father. He is kind, patient and selfless. He constantly puts our needs (and wants) before his own without complaining. He puts up with all of our crying. We are girls, after all. I could not ask for a better partner for life. He is also smokin' hot, not gonna lie ;)

 I am thankful for Lydia. She is so special and sweet. She's so cute that it almost hurts sometimes. She gives amazing hugs, ridiculous cheeky smiles, and is generous with her love, and her forgiveness. She often says, "That's okay, mommy."  I am so blessed that God decided to make me her mother. I can't wait to see what kind of woman she grows into. She said the sweetest prayer at dinner last night: "God is great, God is great, chocolate cake!" Amen!

 I am thankful for our living room. On the day I took this picture, it was actually picked up. I spend a lot of time in here and it is usually completely covered in toys, but looking at this picture made me realize, hey, it looks kinda nice sometimes! It has comfy furniture perfect for cuddling and beautiful curtains my mom made just for me. We spend a lot of our waking hours in this room and I feel blessed that I have space to raise my family, money to buy things to fill the space, and a family to enjoy it with.

 I am not more thankful for the living room than for Lexi, I am not sure why the pictures loaded out of order! Anyway, I am so thankful for this sweet girl. She made me a mom, changed my life, brought me to Jesus. She is funny, smart and thoughtful. She loves to draw pictures and cards for loved ones. She says sweet prayers, and she is very curious to explore the world. She can be a challenge, but I am grateful that God trusted me with her. Even when I want to tear my hair out :)

 I am thankful for my mom. She is the kind of mom I can talk to about anything, and she always has been. I am so grateful that she loves and supports me through thick and thin. She is a wonderful grandmother (as you can see here) and is generous with her time. She makes sacrifices for the people she loves, even when we don't always deserve it. I hope I can be a great mom like her some day. I feel so blessed that God made her my mom.

I am very grateful for my dad. He is kind and caring and he loves his family with all of his heart. He overcomes challenges to be the best dad, husband, friend, and son he can be. He is patient and gentle with me and my little girls. If I ever have a son, I hope he will turn out like my dad. He is never more than a phone call away, and he always has a moment to share with someone he cares about. He is always happy to help. He is a wonderful dad.

Maybe I will make this a "regular" segment on my blog. Stopping to say thank you helps me to remember how truly blessed I am. I am so grateful for these blessings and the others that God has given me.

One little girl - Part 4: Faith journey

So I guess I should say that I've been avoiding writing this part of my story for a while. It's not that I don't want to share it, it's that I don't really know how to explain it all. Or I think part of me knows it could take me a REALLY long time to write it all. And I'm not sure how much to include, or really where to stop, so just give me some grace.

I think this will be the last part of this little series. That's not to say that the story, my story, has ended, 'cuz obviously, I am still here. I am going to keep writing, continue answering "why" and sharing my story. Upon further reflection, I kind of think that this particular story is sort of my testimony. Most likely the foundation.

What is a testimony? A testimony is basically a story of how someone became a Christian. Years ago, I didn't really know the word testimony, but I knew the word testimonial. Which to me meant a recommendation, or an explanation of one's experience with something, particularly a product. So I guess, in a way, the "product" that I am advertising on my blog is Jesus, and this story is my testimonial of how Jesus has "worked" for me. Or something like that. I digress.

Anyhow, here's part four.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ wavy lines of transition ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, Tim and I bought our lovely little house and moved in the day before Easter, 2010. During that time, I still thought of life in terms of "semesters", and as that spring semester drew to a close, I was finishing a few Master's level courses at the Edwards campus, subbing occasionally, and staying home with Lexi the other days. Lexi had been attending daycare part time at Little Saints, which was located at St. Thomas Aquinas, the high school that Tim and I attended, and that my mother-in-law, Kathy works at. This worked out quite well when we were living with Tim's parents, but after we moved, I began to consider whether it would be a good fit moving forward. The daycare was designed for children and grandchildren of teachers and staff at the school, and it closed at the end of the school day. I was set to begin student teaching that fall. Student teaching is a full time, unpaid gig. I was really excited for the chance to be in front of a classroom, but I was concerned about getting Lexi to and from daycare on time and still being able to put in the necessary hours at my new school.

I didn't have to worry for long. Our new house was right next door to a church called Valley View and I noticed a sign out front that said "It's All Here! Daycare, Preschool, Parent's Day Out". So I called the number on the sign and set up a meeting to visit with the director, Karin. The facility looked great. I loved the fact that there was a lot of space, that they were open from 7am-6pm, and that lunch was provided. Oh, and the fact that we could walk there was extremely convenient. It seemed like a great fit, so we signed up.

Life was looking sunny. Tim had his new job, we had plenty of space in our new house, I knew where I would be teaching at, and knew where Lexi would be. It's amazing how comforted I was by having a plan, having some answers for once. Things had been so hectic, it was nice to actually know what the next few months of our lives would look like.

Some time in July, the wonderful grandparents offered to take Lexi over night one Saturday. Tim and I enjoyed our evening and the next morning, I had a crazy idea. I wanted to go to church.

I think now is a good time for me to back up and lay some background info down. Tim and I were both raised Catholic. We both attended Catholic schools from preschool onward and graduated together from St. Thomas Aquinas. We were married in the Catholic church, the church I had grown up in, that my parents were married in, that my grandpa was raised in. But at this point in our story, about 2 years after we got married, we were not regular church attendees. We went with our families on Easter and Christmas and that was about it.

I had always considered myself a spiritual person, but not a religious person. Which I think was my way of saying that I believed in God, but didn't really want to follow his rules. I recall someone telling me, "Take what you need, and leave the rest behind."  I didn't go to mass because I didn't get anything out of it. Some might say, well, that's because you didn't put anything into it! And there is certainly some truth to that, I did not make an effort to become involved past high school. I'd felt close to God in certain times of my life, like on the Kairos retreat I attended senior year of high school (with Tim), and on Steubenville trips I had taken as well. There were times in my life where I saw signs from God, knew what he was speaking to me, and felt his presence very closely. I tried to stay connected to a small Kairos group my freshman year of college, but I didn't fit in. It was time to let go of that particular venue. Once I left high school, I stopped attending mass. I tried a few times, went alone on Sunday evenings, but I didn't feel anything. I didn't really feel God's presence. Rather, I felt guilt. Guilt that I hadn't gone regularly, guilt that I was bored when I was there. I was attending out of guilt.

But when I got pregnant with Lexi and we decided to get married, we decided to get married in the Catholic church. Why? I don't have a great answer, aside from the fact that I didn't really know any other options. I felt like it was the "right" thing to do. So we did. In order to get married in the Catholic church, Tim and I had to attend a weekend marriage encounter as well as some sessions with the priest at the church. The weekend encounter was a mostly positive experience. Tim and I appreciated the chance to talk about different ideas and feelings. But the session with the priest...was hurtful.

Yes, I knew that I wasn't supposed to have sex until I got married. Sure, it was irresponsible. But I had and I was pregnant. I loved Tim and I wanted to spend my life with him. I knew that I wanted to marry him, we'd just moved the timeline up some. But when we visited with the priest, I felt so guilty and so ashamed. He said some hurtful things. He asked Tim how he knew he wasn't just going to find another girl out there with the same qualities I had. Because there were other girls  just like me out there, you know. The priest said that, and I cried. He wanted to know how well we knew each other and then asked me what Tim's favorite color was, and vice versa. Because that's important, I guess. He did not come across as a caring or forgiving person. I wanted to say to him, "What do you want me to do? Would you rather I had an abortion?" because what he said made me feel so guilty, like I needed to feel really bad for the sin I had committed. I felt like I was making the right choice, the best choice. I couldn't go back in time, I couldn't undo what had been done. What did he want me to do?

That experience was very hurtful. I didn't feel very close to God at all. I started to feel bitter. Instead of feeling bitter toward just the priest, I felt bitter toward the whole church.Was my mistake so unforgivable? Also, I questioned how well a person who had never been married could know the keys to a successful marriage. But we got through it, and he married us.

When Lexi was about nine months old, we decided to get her baptized. We  made an appointment to visit with the coordinator and drove back to the church. The first words out of her mouth were, "Why didn't you have her baptized sooner?" Oh, I don't know, because we are full time students, new parents, living 45 minutes away, juggling about a million changes at once? Because I don't really believe that unbaptized babies go to hell? Because I had been focused on my child's growth issues and eczema problems? Because I am doing the best I can and just now have had the time to look into the process? That's what I wanted to say to her, but instead I felt guilty and just mumbled some excuse. She was very concerned with the fact that we weren't involved in the church and that we lived too far away and that we had waited so long. I wanted to have Lexi baptized at the church I grew up in, because it was the only church home I had ever known. She suggested that maybe we call the Catholic church in Lawrence and talk to them about it. We had visited the church in Lawrence once or twice, but didn't feel a connection. We left the meeting, and I think, honestly, that is the point when I officially left the Catholic church.

I felt guilty, frustrated, and hurt. I felt like I was being turned away at a church, which, in a way, felt like being turned away by God. The people who were supposed to be representing Jesus, a person who ate dinner with sinners, were turning me away, not letting me in, pointing out my flaws. This was probably one of the darkest points in my faith journey. I started wondering if there really was a God, and why he had left me. I took a sociology class at KU and began to wonder if God might just be a way for people to explain what they did not understand. A way for people to comfort themselves about why they existed. I felt empty. I was discouraged and hurt.

This phase of bitterness and doubt waxed and waned off and on for the next few years, until we moved into our house. We did not attend church at all during that time, and I think if you'd asked me if I believed in God, I would have said that I did not know.

Somehow, slowly, my faith started coming back to me, bit by bit. I felt like something was missing. It started with a tiny nagging feeling. Something in me felt that there might be a God, but I didn't really know him anymore. I didn't know myself very well anymore. Looking back, I can say that's because I had changed. I was a college caterpillar turning into a butterfly mom, but I wasn't quite there yet. I was still in the cocoon and I wasn't completely sure what would come out of it.

So back to the present. Lexi spent the night at grandma and grandpa's house and we had the morning to ourselves. I'd had the idea that it might be nice to try out church again. We live very close to a Catholic church, a Methodist church, and several other churches. I was pretty much done with the Catholic church at that point. I continued to substitute teach in them occasionally and would come to have a student teaching experience in one, but that was just because it was something I had known and was comfortable with. (Confession: In order to sub in the Catholic schools, I needed to list a home parish. I actually went and joined a church just so I had something to write down. I have never actually attended church there and to this day, have not.)

Anyhow, I had seen lots of cars going in and out of the parking lot of Valley View, the church where Lexi would be attending daycare that fall. So I asked Tim if he would be willing to join me one morning, and he agreed. For the first time in my entire life, I was going to church because I wanted to. Technically, we decided to go to church because we wanted to raise our kids to have morals and we felt that church was a good place to do that. So while I told myself that we were going there for Lexi, I later discovered that I was going there because God had some work to do on me. He had some big plans for me.

Our first reactions to Valley View were that the "mass" (that's actually just a Catholic term, we found out. it was called "worship) was actually interesting. There was only one prayer that the people said together (aside from the "Our Father" aka the Lord's Prayer) and it changed every week! Wow. I'd grown up with Hail Marys, Our Fathers, Glory Bes, Apostle's Creeds, Hail Holy Queens, and other memorized prayers. I found it refreshing that there was spontaneous prayer. It seemed more meaningful somehow. Another surprise was that people lingered after church to talk to one another. Several people stopped us and asked if we were new, and introduced themselves. It was nice. There was also a woman pastor. And she saw us wandering the hallway and stopped to introduce herself! That was new. She was married and had kids of her own. She had an education background. She was someone I could relate to, and I appreciated that.

Tim and I continued to visit Valley View pretty regularly for weeks. Summer came to an end and I began student teaching in a Catholic school. I was paired with a wonderful cooperating teacher and I learned a lot about teaching. But I began to feel that a Catholic school wouldn't be a good fit for me. I saw our six year old first graders struggle to recite a decade of the rosary each morning (that's 10 Hail Marys and some Glory Bes) and I wondered if they were getting anything out of it. A first grader asked if her dog would go to heaven and the answer was sorry, no, he didn't have a soul. I appreciated that the teacher was great and the kids were learning a lot, but I knew it wasn't for me.  Some people, especially family, asked why we weren't just attending the Catholic church across the street. I didn't have a good answer at the time, but looking back, I understand why.  For the first time in my life, I really started to analyze my faith instead of just accepting what I was told. It felt good. It felt meaningful. I felt like I was really seeking God for the first time.

I'd convinced myself that I really only wanted to attend church so my kids would know God, but for some reason I began attending a class at Valley View called Alpha. It was basically an introduction to Christianity. (You can learn more about it here if you are curious: http://alphausa.org/Groups/1000047505/What_is_Alpha.aspx) I had a lot of questions about being Christian. I especially had a lot of questions about Jesus. I had always understood the concept of God. He was that big bearded guy that made everything. But what was Jesus all about? For some reason, I really struggled with him. What did it mean that he died for our sins? Was I really forgiven just by being sorry? Just like that? Huh. We went through some other classes and decided to officially join Valley View in January 2011. It was exciting, and I felt in my heart that we were joining something bigger than us.

Right before Lexi turned two, Tim convinced me that another baby was a good idea. He must have caught me in a moment of insanity, because I agreed. We decided that the summer after student teaching was the perfect time for another baby. The kids wouldn't be too far apart, and I could teach if I wanted to. I found out I was pregnant and we announced it to our families on Christmas of 2010. It's funny how different getting pregnant on accident is from getting pregnant on purpose. This time, I wanted to be pregnant. I was excited about it. It was part of my plan, after all. It was socially acceptable.

I student taught at a public school in the spring of 2011 and immediately had my eyes opened. I had grown up attending Catholic schools, where everyone pretty much looks the same, and I'm not just talking about the uniforms. Ninety-nine percent of us were white Catholics with two parents. The new school I taught at was colorful. The kids looked different, dressed differently, and had different stories and family structures. It was almost a culture shock to me at first, as sad as that is. I noticed how different they all were, but they did not. They were all just kids. It was an experience I am very grateful I had. I knew that I wanted my kids to understand that all people are different and that's okay.

Sometime that semester, I decided that I wanted to be home with my kids, at least for the baby's first year. I had the rest of my life to teach. I'd missed Lexi when I was teaching, and I was so excited when I finished my last class and was free to just be home with her and get ready for the baby.

Lydia Jade was born on July 24th, 2011.

This little cheekers would bring me unbelievable joy and immense challenges.

The first few months of being a mom of two were REALLY, REALLY HARD! WHOA! Everyone told me it would be hard to go from one to two, but I had no idea how right they were. Lydia would stay up all night, and then I'd still have to get up with Lexi at 6am. Tim was gone at work all day. I felt frustrated with Lexi because she was being 2. I felt frustrated with myself because I had no idea what I was doing. I cried, a lot. I loved them both more than anything, but wow, what a rough patch.

It was October 2011, and I was tired. Lydia stayed up til midnight and slept in until 8 or 9am. Lexi got up around 6am and Tim left for work at 7am, so he went to bed early. There were hours every evening where I was alone with the baby, watching the Wonder Years or Toddlers in Tiaras in the living room. It was really quiet, and really lonely.

One day, I just got the urge to read the Bible. We had received a Bible as a wedding gift and I had my monogrammed Bible from high school, but I didn't really know where to start. Genesis kind of got weighty after Noah's Ark, if you know what I mean. So I asked a friend if she could recommend a Bible to me, and to my surprise, she said she'd been praying for this for me. Wow. I remember telling her a while back that I wanted to teach my kids about God, but I didn't know how. She, being a devout Christian herself, knew that in order to teach my kids about God, I needed to know him myself. And in order to know him better, I needed to read his book. She recommended the Mom's Devotional Bible and I excitedly ran to Barnes and Noble and bought it, that night. What followed were months of reading the Bible each night when I was alone with Lydia. It's funny but despite 12 years of Catholic schooling, I didn't know much about the Bible. But reading it was comforting. I started with Mark because the index in the Bible suggested that as a starting place. It was full of inspirational devotions for moms. Stuff I could relate to. Understanding for those hard times. Grace. I think I read the devotion about crying babies about 50 times. I started reading the Bible and writing out prayers to God each night. I'd always loved writing. I would write prayers for others, for myself, and I would vent my frustrations and pray for guidance. It felt like I was developing a relationship with God, a real one, where I told him what was on my heart.

A few months later, I began reading The Purpose Driven Life and doing the study that went with it. I was excited by the idea that I had a specific purpose! I remember one night, Tim was sick upstairs in our bed, I was sleeping downstairs in the basement, and the kids kept crying. The house was trashed, the laundry undone. I cried too. I was tired. I hated when Tim was sick, I felt overwhelmed without his help. I felt sick to my stomach and overwhelmed with my circumstances. I picked up my journal and I prayed. I told Jesus that I didn't completely understand him, but I was accepting him. I wanted him to save me.

There were no lightning bolts or burning bushes, or miraculous healings. Tim was still sick, Lydia was still crying, and I was still tired. I didn't feel any major changes. But I consider that the beginning of my life as a Christian. That was the moment that I looked at my life and knew that I needed God, that I couldn't do it without him. That I could lean on him and bring him anything and everything, no matter how big or how small. That I could say sorry and be forgiven and move on. That being a Christian was a choice I would make every day.

So, I guess that's it. That's how I came to be a Christian. There was no giant voice from the skies. No giant signs pointing me in the right direction. There was a baby, some struggling, and some emptiness. A car accident, loneliness, a college level tantrum. Shame and guilt, guilt and shame. But it was all part of God's plan. All of those parts of the story were stepping stones on my pathway. God led me back to him.

I was sharing this with a friend the other day and she commented that a baby was such a sweet, gentle way for God to bring me to him. I'd never thought of it like that before, but it's true. And it's interesting. God has used a baby to save me, to bring me back to him. Two babies actually. One was a little girl born in the hospital, the other, a baby boy in a manger.

He has a plan. And it is sweet.

Never lucky...always blessed.