Third Day rocks.

Another babe sick. It is different though. He is older and can tell me what's wrong. And he is throwing up. I am not scared of that in the most part. It is not a hidden sickness. It is horrible and then done. Fevers are a different story.
I left the house for a bit and went to a bests house. I always have music playing on my van stereo. It helped my soul for the short drive. So soothing. I have learned that it can bring the hope back. It is warfare. A good pounding worship song. Not sing-songy but deep and raw. The verse, "....put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness," had hit me one time. I had all of a sudden understood what it meant. That you can fight your way out of the dark by uplifting your soul.
www.thirdday.com/songs/follow-me-there
Here's a song that I love. Maybe not a warfare song but uplifting. Makes me want to run in a field. Smile. Wink.

Crushing.

Please pray for me. Now please. I feel nauseous with anxiety. The morning is barely gone. All week was bad more than good. I can't find peace today. I feel overwhelmed.
I feel like giving up. Like burrowing in this deep hole instead of getting up. My limbs are so tired and I can't stand. I am feeling everything in dramatic echoes. I can't handle Gemma being sick. I can't handle my body being unhealed still from too many pregnancies. I can't handle not being the one who can overcome these things and be healthier. I want to figure out all sickness and fix it. But I can't.
Supposedly it all has to do with sleep. For me. More sleep equals happier and healthier. Can it be just that. A teething baby can drive one to insanity. Maybe. My counsellor has dropped me to once a month. Great. That was helping. That was giving me an escape. That was letting me drive away in silence. She was helping me to rationalize and normalize my thoughts. It seems if I don't make an appointment out of it, I don't get a break.
My husband suggested that I could do what I love and craft away (to make some money and get a break). I wonder if that would be a break......either way, I need to make some creative appointments for myself. I will write it on the calendar.
Reality is blurring again. My filter is messed up. I can`t handle unwell children. It makes me feel like I don`t want to be a mom anymore. Like I can`t be responsible for my sick babies. Please someone take over and make the decisions for me so I don`t mess up. So I don`t have to watch my innocent babes struggle through life. The feeling turning in my stomach is reminiscent of when you are young and you do something terribly wrong. Except I didn`t do anything wrong. I am fighting for all good. It is unfortunate. My greatest hope has been motherhood.
So, I am sick right now. Because my babe is sick. Relapsed into darkness. I am sure when everything settles I will find my hope again.

A glimpse of change.

 
 
 

I didn't really want to expose my children on this dark blog. I didn't even want myself on here. It isn't so dark anymore. Here's a sample. My kids are beautiful. The most gorgeous kids I have I ever seen. They are smart too.
And me. I am a "normal" mom. In great love with her kids. Busy with playgroups, preschool, and grocery shopping. Most of my posts are from an exhausted, "I am not overcoming my anxiety anymore" place. Late at night. I often have felt the need to write in pieces throughout the day. But I can't get a moment often. Mornings are usually rushed but hopeful, ambitious even. Early afternoons are filled with naps and late afternoons, with chaos. Bedtimes are sweet. Filled with prayers and cuddles. Then comes a mother's quiet time. So quiet that thoughts can race out in the open spance of silence. By then I am shaking with exhaustion from fighting with myself throughout the day. Then I write. And read. And process.
I told my friend once that I put the kids to bed, have an anxiety attack, and then watch some TLC. I am not even lying. I can find humor in that though. Sometimes I find fear that it will never get better, but it is changing. Thanks for the input out there. I am always up for a comment, if not cruel. I can reevaluate my thoughts at any point so throw some of your truths at me once in awhile. <3

Born ruined

That title was from a song I was listening to this morning. This day has been like three months. I am exhausted. I forced myself to go out tonight. I had a long week. A bad week. My kids have been sick. Oh yeah, you already know. I went to my counselling appointment today. After months of not (because of holidays and then bad weather). I cried on the way in out of frustration, and relief, and quiet.
When I got home my sweet boy cleaned up all by himself. Willingly. I declared how proud of him I was. I praised him and told him that it made my heart so happy that he did that. He said, "mom, I know, God told me that." I believe him. I know God. I have had a bad week.
This statement, so pure, brings tears to my eyes. If I only had one good moment, I would relish it to be this, that my children would know their God. That they would know that HE IS loving. That they would know that when you are low, HE sends relief in ways that blindside you as much as your pain. That when he seems silent, he is only waiting for you to give up your fight and let HIM work. He won't move until you choose him.
The second thing that I am pondering is this. Why do we keep all things painful to ourselves. Not only the subjects that shame us, but also the ones that we could do nothing about or are unfortunate in nature. Why do we "not bother anyone", and "don't gossip about that", and "keep out of theirs and our business". Seriously. I don't get it all. I find it that I am more comfortable with the friends that will tell me truths. The blunt ones...I think that I have mentioned this before. I find compassion in details. Don't you. I don't mean right out talking about everything to everyone. I have a group of bests that I feel like I can share anything with, and that I wouldn't mind them talking about my issues too if it is encouraging and normalizing someone else's reality. I don't think that is gossiping. Is it? I am confused on the whole subject and need to find my truth in that one.
I had been rolling around my thoughts about a certain friend out loud to a best, because I knew that she would keep it private and help me come to a conclusion. It did help me conclude and understand why she may have done things the way that she did. Then this friend told me more about her problems, not only, but about her pain. Heart talk. When the kids get busy playing on their own you can hear it. It changed my thinking about the whole situation. I had already rationalized compassion but this made it real. Maybe that was the God part. I had given it up and I was ready to hear the truth. The ugly cry truth. It shouldn't take ten...twenty years and a therapist to get the ugly cry out. Just spit it out. Empty. Look at your friend that didn't leave at the sight of you. And be there for her turn.

P.S.

I am expecting a breakthrough on the issue of fear, anger, and impatience (which I am sure are all related), very soon in my life. I have prayed for it and I feel it coming. I will jump off the edge when God pushes me.

Sick babies, restless night.

My babe was sick last night. Started to cry in his bed and them I heard him throwing up everywhere. He came to our bed to sleep but I couldn't sleep. My little girl was also fevering in a toddler bed up against the wall. I hate these days. I think to myself that I never want any more kids because I can't bear the thought of them not being able to tell me what's wrong and suffering. It consumes me. I can't help it. I overcome and then I sleep so that it doesn't come back. My husband, who never snores, was snoring loudly and my little babe was snoring right in tune with him. It was rather sweet but the sounds wouldn't let me sleep.
I finally slept after hours but then had a horrible dream. I dreamt that someone had gotten into the house and I had to protect my boy. I was also trying to help my other babe and couldn't do both at the same time. I ran back to my boy and stood against the wall. He was out of the way and in the background. This dark, light eyed woman with a stocky build approached me spewing. I recognised her but was not sure where from. She grasped my shoulder and put out her fist. She was fear itself. She evenly came at me with her powerful arm straight to my heart. She was pushing and watching me straight on with intent to kill me. Just pressing my heart not suffocating just stopping its beating. Crushing me. It was painful and I was trapped. I knew I had to get out of her grasp for my children's sake.....
My dreams are always so meaningful to me. I was processing. I knew the front door had been left unlocked. I was trying to balance a sick babe and a feverish little girl. I was trapped in the tight fist of fear. It is painful. I do have to get away from it for my children's sake.

vanity fair

I like reading the back page of Vanity Fair, and yes I often/sometimes start at the back of a magazine. It is a questionnaire....
I will now give it to myself....
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
--> A piece of land with a farmhouse on it. Picture rolling hills or a lake. Having a huge family. Sitting out in the yard by the campfire, at dusk. Sharing stories, and laughter, and singing along with the acoustic guitar.
Which living person do you most admire?
--> Beth Moore.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
--> Fear and impatience.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
 --> Being judgmental, and crass.
What is your greatest extravagance?
--> Quilt material, and Starbucks Caramel Machiattos.
What is your favorite journey?
--> The one that leads me home.
What do consider the most overrated virtue?
--> Minding your own business. (When it comes to friends and family only)
On what occasion do you lie?
--> To protect someone I love.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
--> "That is ridiculous."
What is your greatest regret?
--> Anytime I didn't say what I needed to, and the moment then passed. (I love yous and apologies included)
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
--> My God, my husband, my children.
When and where were you happiest?
--> At the birth of each of my children.
What is your current state of mind?
--> Hopeful, anxious, exhausted.
What is your favorite occupation?
--> Homemaking, "missions" work (aka, reaching out to people)
What is the quality you most like in a person?
--> Honesty.
What do you most value in your friends?
--> Openness and truthfulness.

I like this. And I like to sit at my kitchen table and read in the sunshine. I like to pray on my bed in the night. I like to walk at dusk. I like to sit under the stars. I could stare at a body of water for hours. I like to feel the burn of the sun as it kisses my skin. I like the power of a summer wind as it warms my soul. I like to search the meanings of names. I like to make up my own quilt pattern. I am changed when cuddling my sleeping babes. I like to worship on my own. I need to sit for coffee with my friends once a week at least. I love when the conversation turns to heart matters. And most of all, I love how God can turn a burden into a joy.

venting

I feel defeated. I am seriously mad. I don't know what or who I am directly angry at but I want to cry I am so mad.
My daughter, who is two, is allergic to milk. I am not sure how allergic but she immediately breaks out into hives if she even touches cheese or the like. One time at a friend's house, she broke out even after we had gone lengths to make sure she had a diary free meal. We figured out that she washed with the same cloth that the boys had wiped their kraft dinner hands on.
I had found this allergy when I gave her her first food. It was rice cereal. Step one pablum. It had skim milk powder in it. Hives from her nose to her chest. We gave her lactose free formula and stuck to the cereals that needed breastmilk or formula added because they lacked dairy. We didn't really worry about breads and such but made sure she has never had raw diary.
She got sick at one and a half and it made it worse. She had a bladder infection and her immune system broke down. She continued to get sick and developed an allergy to sulpha antibiotics. We took her off all milk and put her on soy. I started reading the ingredients on everything, which adds to my stress let me tell you. She got more urinary tract infections and I had to change way of doing things even more. The way she bathed- no more baths, only showers. I even change her diaper every night in order to avoid having a wet diaper too long. Some people don't remember, or don't take seriously enough, her allergy in my opinion. The poor girl has little bumps all over her arms and cheeks. She often has a distended belly. And then she poops a huge diaper full of rancid sandlike poop. I think this is actually what causes her infections. She gets sick. She gets sicker. Reset. I am hoping she grows out of this. I am planning on potty training here soon and I am taking her to a dietitian and then a allergist. She has already seen a urologist but I am trying to avoid any traumatic things. She has already had a blood test. That was traumatic for us both. I am fearing now that she has a UTI again but she doesn't tell me. I think she is use to it. Even her body is use to it and no longer fevers. That is a good thing. Fevers scare me. They are uncontrollable.
This all isn't really so bad if everyone follows the rules. This is the reason I am so mad at the moment. I can't seem to let it go so I am writing it out. Venting and then I'll be done. I don't know if this allergy will be the type that she grows out of or the kind that develops into worse symptoms. I don't want to test theories of different doctors right now. I don't know what will happen if she ingests diary. I am trying to teach her to use her words instead of crying and screaming. For now she wouldn't be able to articulate what is bothering her.
This morning I brought her a little bowl of berries with sugar sprinkled on it, because I knew that there was going to be treats that she couldn't have with butter or milk in them. Everyone who watches the kids (this is at playgroup) knows about her allergy and are pretty good about it. I came out of our mom's study class to find a cheese stick right on top of her container and one beside. My mamma bear started to show. It was a little ugly. I am so frustrated. A kid probably did this or at least I would hope so. How can I ever let go. This is not the first time this has happened. How can I learn to trust people around me, that I know, that care, to ever give me a break of body and of mind, when I have to worry about these kind of issues. If there was any slight chance their children would be harmed wouldn't they take precautions. I do. I care about my kids in every detail. I care enough to let it go so that they aren't afraid. To know that God is in control and she was nowhere near her treat covered in dairy. She was at a different table eating dairy free crackers. Okay, there. I can breathe a little.
Please be careful and thoughtful with my kids folks. I love them beyond what is imaginable and I don't want to turn into a person who puts fear into my children. I don't want them to be sheltered and afraid. I want to let them be free to play, to learn, to grow.
Keiran has started having issues with milk too. My God help me........

eyewrinkles and eyelash kisses

I feel the need to clarify. I have skirted around some issues because they are private in type. I hate when things are untrue, as you all know, and are misunderstood. So here it is. The untold story.
My husband, back in the day, did not choose me. I chose him. I had given up and had said Lord I just want a boyfriend. Nothing else. Nothing serious. Nothing in the realm of I can see myself marrying you. Just a companion. I was so done.
When I was twenty my world fell. I have never ever walked away from God but I have felt the coldness of the church. I think it was for a purpose. I found Garry when I was 21. I have wanted to look back on my journal for awhile now and share something that I wrote when I was twenty. I wanted to look and see where I was since I am in the midst of treading new grounds.

A journal entry of mine from September 24th, 1999....I pray God would challenge me to grow in depth of character. I long to be fruitful in him. To strive for truth and purity. To be joyfully passionate to reach out in everything. I feel like Proverbs 14:13 often. Even in laughter the heart may ache, and joy may end in grief. I want that aching to be not of me, but for the lost and broken. I desire to be a person who is broken and compassionate in humility......

I am amazed as I look back amazed at I look back at some of these pages. At what I have become. My eyes are open. Of course. I always say that I don't believe in coincidence.

July 23rd, 2000 (just because I like this one).....LIFE IS NOT MADE UP OF PERFECTION, IT'S MADE UP OF CHOICES. OF GIVING INTO HOPES OR FEARS. TEARS CAN BE GOOD OR SORROWFUL- ONLY YOUR HEART WILL BE ABLE TO TELL YOU. Only God knows your heart........

September 4th, 2000.....I am in a place. Here my eyes shift around the room. My eyes reflect my thoughts. My thoughts reflect my heart. I search this room for a door. A door that will open to a concrete road. There is no such road. For concrete is made by man. God has made a road of clay. A clay road which can be molded. To deepen character. To deepen trust. This road screams out. Life. Choices. Dreams. Desires. Tears. Joy unspoken. Gritted teeth. Shining eyes. Overwhelming revelations. Fears pushed aside. Heart struggles. Cries out loud. Silently surrendering. Growing. Planting. Shoveling dirt. Picking out rocks. Rejoicing in the journey. Looking back with peace. My road is only beginning. Which door will I choose. In this place. A path on which to fix my eyes upon. Soft clay......

How's that for a nineteen year old's inner thoughts.

December 16th, 2000 (my twentieth birthday would be December 22nd, 2000).....I sit here holding back the tears. Longing to die. Counting one more loss, yet hoping for a miracle before my sick heart falls under the water. Oh, if only I could breathe in the depths to save me from this fucking harsh sorrow. It is unending. If only my fears wouldn't come to life so often. If only a hope would be fulfilled.............I want to be free. Free from fear. Free from disappointment. I want to be joyful again. I want to be embraced when tears fall. I want my forehead and eyelashes to be kissed every night by a man who loves me. I want to be known as a woman of God. I want to once say how I really feel. I want it to be okay that I'm upset, mad, frustrated. I want to be listened to. I want to be favored in the eyes of God and men. I want God to bring me home..........I wish I could scream it out. All of it. From the childhood beginning. God I want to come home. God. My God I pray that I won't want to die......

I was really sick. At the depths of despair. Sitting in the bathtub for hours, wishing I could plunge to heaven.
That year I disconnected. I was clawing my way out but I kept sliding down. I was drawn to a place that I now see I needed to go. I couldn't find a friend in the church. Not one. Only a few friends (some Christian and some not) that begged me to come out to the bar. I was terrified of going but could no longer be alone thinking awful thoughts. I have never in the past found myself without close friends. Wherever I have gone I have had three immediate bests. All being purposeful in my life. I found myself drunk one night and after just a couple of drinks because I am small and have never drank in my life. It was great to go out and escape, dancing with my girl friends from work. We got off late and there was nothing else to do anyways that late at night. It became a habit. Anyways, I was drunk and went to an after party with one friend. Her boyfriend's best friend and I kissed, and he pushed for more. I was use to church boys who would listen when you said no. He didn't. But I didn't leave. It wasn't scary. I didn't care anymore after that. The weeks following I had found it soothing to let go. To not be perfect. I called it earning my pain.
Years back I had no choice. When I was six. It is hard to live a pure life knowing that you were never pure. That you had no choice. It was unfair. The situations mirrored each other. I see it clearer now. I had been young and the boy young, when I was six. It wasn't scary. Not a person of power hovering over me. I see now that he was probably a boy who was harmed and brought it to my house. It is so unfair to be so young and for things to be taken from you. I always felt guilty. I have always struggled with knowing things a child shouldn't know. It happened for awhile. I said no and he threatened to tell but then it stopped. I still know this boy. He is as broken as I am I think.
Anyways, my point is not to tell you disturbing things but to set some people straight and bring truth to the surface. Garry was my good decision. He did not ever push me. Not ever take advantage of me. He was just good. He was there. I was done with thinking about marriage and I had asked God for a man. Written a list of things that I wanted him to be. It was Garry. In description of look, and character, and lifestyle. I saw it after and had no doubt he was my husband. But at first he was just, only, my boyfriend. God meets you where you are at.

July 9th, 2003.......Bring on the boat scene. My eyelashes and forehead are content. The eyewrinkles are there. Here is a man who suits me. I can finally sleep........

April 10th, 2004........I only need a ring of promise. No people. Not pretty. Him and I. And God. I am not worried in this moment. Only hopeful. Waiting. It's all I can do. I don't doubt I am here for purpose. Who am I to guess what God will do. Or has done. In my fault. A man. A man not knowing has helped me find peace in God. He is home and I can rest. To step and know there is a resting place. I pray he will know the restorer.........

I am smiling. Remembering that God brought me out. I am now fitting the puzzle pieces but God has already made the puzzle. Thank GOD! There is some truth for you.



---> For those of you who don't know the rest of the story, by choosing him I mean, moving in with him rather quickly, choosing to committ instead of just "run around" with him, and choosing to marry a person who doesn't share my faith.

The fear of untruth.

I hope I am me. Always me. That I push out the parts that I believe and don't yield to the fear. I have always been strong inside but I can be passive sometimes. If I do move, at times, it comes out all wrong. Aggressive. I have been loud lately. Talking alot. I didn't start talking until after I left home. Actually, even after that. Maybe when I became a mom. I am feeling more free and am trying (key word) not to let fear run my life. Although it sadly does. If I took away fear I would have more children, I would go on more trips, I would have more dinner parties, I would leave the house without coming home exhausted. Fear is so encompassing. I feel like I am sixty years old just thinking about it. Maybe eighty even, keeled over, cold. I just want to sleep when I am fighting it. My children won't let me. I am impatient. Why am I so angry.......my husband even asks me this lately. This is where I am right now. In the middle of my fight. Fighting on that plateau- with myself. What a sight. I must look insane. So again, why am I angry. I have many reasons that are sufficient. Not being allowed to feel. Not being protected. Not fought for. Not feeling loved. Having to hold things that were older than my child-self. Being betrayed. Then alone. Then treated lightly. Then losing children. Then forced to sit in fear, nursing one baby, while pregnant with another. Then thrown back to where I never wanted to be. Then mocked by reality. Then left with nothing to soothe my pain but my God. He pulled me out. He is healing me. He has to or I would die. He turned everything. I am still fighting but sometimes he gives me a boost up the mountain or catches me by my pant leg. This post exhausts me and I am in tears....it was inspired by the feelings that welled up as I read a new friends post. I have too much to do today to sit hear balling my eyes out but now it is getting worse. I hate when feelings just come and you wonder where they are coming from. And you can't stop them. I am letting them run. I need to find the root of this anger. This fear. I need it to stop. I can't breathe. I am tripping. I am only human. But truth is truth and God is God.

I feel, I wish, I am.

I feel way older than I am. Or at least I have most of my life. It is evening out for me as I actually get older. People always use to say I was mature for my age. I think I was born in the wrong era. I should have been born in a simpler time. Where you stay home and have lots of babies. Where girls marry young. Where you learn to cook, quilt, and garden. Where the tasks of the day keep your body firm and strong.
I wish I could run. I would love to buck up enough to be a runner. I have at times in my life but I don't feel for real strong. I imagined having time as a mom to have an exercise routine. Who was I kidding, I can't even pee in peace. I like biking too but I live in a town of all hills.
I am a mom and wife. I am a quilter and scrapbooker. I am a friend that likes to connect and hates to let go. I am a daughter and a sister. I have brothers. I have been collecting sister in laws lately. I love babies. I wanted to have like seven. I am at three. I am opinionated but rather compassionate for circumstance if you tell me your plight. I like to talk in pictures, to my husband's irritation. I was trained as an teacher of English as a second language. I never used it. I like language and love to learn when I am immersed in another culture. I once was immersed in the Philippines...twice actually. I would like to learn photography and piano. I play guitar. I learned guitar because I loved to sing. I am quiet in a crowd.

painted body

I got a new tattoo the month I was turning thirty. I got my first one when I was in the middle of a painful rebellion of sorts. I got the word "grace" etched under it (it being a Canadian Flag) the next year. My lion covers both. I wanted it for a long time and now was no longer pregnant or breastfeeding (after like five years of being so), so I went with four friends and got it done. I wanted a lion for the death of my children and I also wanted it to be a symbol of my God who brings hope. Since I had dealt with so much of the pain this year, it was very freeing. A rebirth. Of my skin. Haha.  

The quilt cupboard.

I have many things to write about but I am restraining myself. These things involve other people in my life and I can only be honest and forthright about my soul's feelings. I don't want to cause harm or judgement on them.
I do however wish to make my blog a bit more painted. I want to elaborate on my life, or at least myself so that I can broaden the picture of this whole story.

I am in love with blankets. I like to collect them and adore them. I know this may seem strange (and I don't really adore them in a literal sense). I find comfort, and don't collect much other than, quilts and blankets. If they are from someone or sometime that is meaningful, even better. I am also finding that quilting is hobby of choice, although I am amateur. It has a deeper story....it may come from when I was young and slept in a basement room alone. Even as young as six, fear overwhelmed me. My comforter was my protector. I was afraid that something bad would happen and made a plan that if it did, I would pray to God to make my comforter a shield. What childlike faith. And I remember my favorite Christmas present as a teen being a huge plaid comforter. I still have that blanket. And to this day, I sleep with my blanket up around my ear. Anyways, this is one of my favorite quilts- the one I made for my little girl's first bed. 

you sow your own garden

Thirty is strange. Just a number. I think not. I feel like an adult now. I have revisited my past and am in my dreams of young. I just wanted a family. That is it. I am there. And I often shake my head when I stop to think about it. That happened fast.
All around me adult occurrences are happening. Marriage problems, nervous breakdowns, abuse, death. It is all strange. But not damning. It's fascinating to me. The pushes for people to be more than they are being. The devastation that comes before people turn back to God...or to God.
I am in a good change. I am making new dreams for myself. I certainly don't want to start over again- I want to build onto life now. I am going to write a book. I have started in fact. I did have a few ideas but they involve other input that I need to wait for. I found an idea the other night when I should have been getting ready....staring into the bathroom mirror.
I need a kick of energy to match my ambition. I still need to make up Keiran's first year scrapbook, make his toddler quilt, dream up a family wall hanging for the bare curtain rod hanging on my wall (left from Christmas), and make a baby blanket for my new little baby relative to arrive next month. Eeek. Baby's make me so excited. Then there's that. Maybe in the midst of these things I can make myself get back into shape and try this new Tupler Technique to fix my baby tummy...just in time to have another baby, if we decide to. I dunno. Much to think about. Much to dream about. Much to hope for.

A post from my mind's log.

I have reached the top of the mountain folks. It is not jagged and dangerous. And I can't see down the other side. It is a plateau. I can see the skyline of the other side, but not the ground below. Not even close. Not even the path. Just a knotty, muddy field. I can't see the ruts under the inspiring beauty of the blowing wheat grass, and I fall down every so many steps. The wind smells pure. I can run into it but it is still pushing against me. I am stronger. It almost holds me upright as I trek through this field. It is miles across. I am enjoying the view now and don't mind not seeing the other side. I don't need to. It is just me and the wind up here. And expanses of sky. It makes me hopeful. There could be any view over the edge when I reach it and I am hopeful in dreaming about what will be there when I get there......