The Day After Christmas

I've shared this story the past couple of years on this day - for those who are struggling with depression, feelings of inadequacy, or who are wondering how to go on. I don't share for sympathy or attention; I share for my own healing and to bring hope to others. If you are in your feelings today, you are not alone.
On this day 33 years ago, I was enjoying the day with my cousins at Grandma and Papa's house. Grandma always made the best things at Christmas - she was a genius in the kitchen, and her homemade gingerbread houses were beautiful (she made the whole thing from scratch). She always had lots of veggies from her garden that she'd canned herself, pumpkin and pecan pies, pumpkin bread, and the best candies. We kids had the important job of dipping candies in chocolate; I loved that candy and the fun of helping to make it. When the day was done and my dad arrived to pick me up, Grandma insisted on sending a big bag of food home with me, even though I told her I wouldn't be allowed to eat it. At home, I was nearly starved & never allowed to eat with the family or have hot food or sweets. I got in the car, immediately apologizing for the goodies and telling my dad I knew I couldn't have them, but I helped make them, and I hoped he and Nancy (his wife)would enjoy them. Then I waited for the anger I knew would come.

It didn't. With what sounded like no emotion, he said, "Well, you can take them to your new home, because you won't be living with me any more." And then he pulled out of the driveway of the one place I felt safe and loved. I'm sure he said other things, sure there were explanations and instructions, but I don't remember anything he said after that sentence. I couldn't understand what I'd done to make him not want me, I'd tried so hard to follow Nancy's rules and be good. I felt like I must be the most awful seven-year-old in the world to make him send me away. I didn't know why he wouldn't just let me live with Grandma and Papa, since he obviously didn't want me and they did. I couldn't fathom what I'd done to make him and Nancy do this, just two years after my mom had died.
Christmas was never the same for me after that. When my grandparents died in late October 9 years later, I stopped caring about the holidays altogether. Once I had my own kids, I knew that had to change and made sure to always give them the best happy holiday memories I could, focusing on their happiness to drown out my own negativity. Some years, I'm more successful than others. Some years, I almost forget the pain and actually enjoy the amazing gift of family I now have. Other years, like this year, the memories of my painful past refuse to fade, blanketing every happy moment with sadness and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and loss. This year is especially rough, knowing that my last strong connection to my bio family died with Mom (she was his oldest sister). Every day I have to deliberately choose to get out of bed, wear clean clothes, and do anything other than stay in bed reading all day and all night. When I cry, the tears come out of nowhere and I can't stop. My nerves are frayed, my shoulders tense, my heart heavy, and my mind preoccupied.
If you have friends dealing with depression this holiday season, I hope my own experiences can give you insight into why they may not be able to get over it, why the holidays can bring so much pain even many years after tragedy. You can't fix it, can't make the pain go away, but you can help. Be kind, be patient. Bring the joyful moments that ease the oppressive pain, even if the relief is only temporary. Smile, laugh, enjoy things in front of us. Trust me, seeing you sad because of us just makes us feel worse.
If you are struggling as I am, know that you aren't alone. Practice self-care. Enjoy the flashes of happy. Don't be angry at yourself for feeling this way. Christmas is over, a new day has dawned. See your therapist, get a massage or a mani-pedi. Take a hot shower, even though you don't feel like it. Put on makeup and take a selfie. Do whatever it is that helps you remember that you are valuable, you are loved, you are enough. Together, we will get through this.

Papa's Penny Sucker

Over 75 years ago, this little girl and boy were eagerly anticipating Christmas, just as we have been.

Their dads, holding them, worried that they wouldn't be so happy when Christmas morning came and they had no gifts to open. By Christmas Eve, the two fathers had only three pennies between them to spare on their children. With five little ones, the two fathers decided they would spend their three pennies on three suckers - one for each of the children who were old enough to be expecting Santa to arrive. The three penny suckers were the only gifts the three children received, but they were happy. Those suckers kept the magic of Christmas alive in their hearts.

The little boy on the left told that story to his children and grandchildren every year for the rest of his life, as a reminder to be thankful for all our blessings, no matter how small they may be. Now, we, his children & grandchildren, tell the story for him as he celebrates in heaven. Right here in our country today, and even in our town, there are those who have no gifts to open, no ham to consume, no family to hug, no home to keep them warm, no celebratory treats - not even a penny sucker.

Remember this Christmas to be thankful for every gift, every moment, every person you get to see. Merry Christmas, friends, from our family to yours.

New Year, New Word

It's a new year, and that means I have a new word and verse/passage to focus on. I've been doing this for several years now (click the links for each year's blog entry), and each time I've seen God work through that word all year. In 2013, my word was MORE, and the year gave me so much more than I could have handled on my own - I had to rely on God to provide immeasurably more strength, courage, and fortitude than I had myself. 2014 was the year of ENOUGH. I was struggling, and I had to remember that his grace is enough for me, and his power is made perfect in my weakness. I didn't blog about my word (or much of anything) in 2015, but it was REVIVAL. As I reflect on the year, I can see that it has been a year of true revival for me. My mind is reviving as I complete my college courses. My soul is reviving with a return to church. My body is reviving with (very slow) weight loss and healthier eating and exercise habits. My mood is reviving with my return to social outings. My confidence is reviving with my Mary Kay business and all the beautiful women it has brought into my life. When I am receptive to the word God wants me to focus on for the year, he reveals the reasons for that word, and I grow. I've been thinking and praying about my word for 2016 for about a week now, and today, God showed me exactly what word I need to focus on: RANSOMED. While I have one word, I have a Bible passage rather than a single verse. This is one of my very favorite passages, and I have taken out references to Israel and replaced them with my own name to help me visualize how the Bible uses the nation of Israel as a metaphor for all of us. I've also replaced references to other nations with Jesus, since he is the sacrifice that atoned for our sins:
But now, [Meredith], listen to the Lord who created you. O [daughter], the one who formed you says, “Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I gave [Jesus] as a ransom for your freedom; I gave [my own son] in your place. Others were given in exchange for you. I traded [His] (life) for yours because you are precious to me. You are honored, and I love you."

 ~ Isaiah 43:1-4

OK, so I know it seems like an obvious choice, since it is tattooed on my arm, but it really wasn't. I had four potential words when I first began the process, and ransomed wasn't one of them. In the end, each one of those four words are wrapped up in this one. Isn't God amazing?

The front-runner of potential words, from the start, was forward. I feel like my year of revival has been only the beginning and I must keep moving forward. After all, Jesus gave his life to purchase me from bondage, so shouldn't I honor that sacrifice by striving daily for forward progress?

Worth was another word on my short list. I've struggled lately with feeling worthless, replaceable, unremarkable. My self-worth has been taking a beating, and I'm constantly reminding myself that Jesus paid a very high price for me. He gave me value when he paid my ransom, and I can honor that by not devaluing myself with negative self-talk or actions.

The third word I considered was cherished. My life has been full of people who've abandoned me or died, or who haven't appeared to care about me even though they should have. In contrast to my bio-dad, who constantly disappears and reappears in my life, my Heavenly Dad has stayed by my side and on my side. He cherishes me, purifies me, strengthens me, and never condemns me. I may never have Fred's approval, but God is proud of me. The ransom Jesus paid for me ensures that Holy Spirit is my constant companion and guide, because I am cherished by the Father of everything.

Finally, I wondered if my word might be free. The last couple of years as I have grieved and recovered from a relapse of PTSD, I haven't felt free. I've been ashamed of the insecurities and pain I'm feeling, and as a result, I've hidden parts of myself. As I'm coming out of the fog, I'm realizing that I've allowed my shame and guilt to hide what God has done for me in my seasons of weakness, sin, and pain. He gave his life for me! Why am I not shouting from the rooftops that he has once again revived my soul? Why am I allowing myself to be a slave to guilt and shame when he has wiped all of that away with his blood? He bought me for a price - not to own me, or shame me, or punish me, but to set me free. 

As you can see, each of those words led me in the same direction. The only reason I can feel cherished and free, or keep moving forward, the only reason I have worth and value: because Jesus RANSOMED me. He paid the ultimate price for me, in spite of my scars, wounds, and defilement. I can't wait to see how he uses my word for his glory this year!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!

What a crew! Special appearance by Lexi, who loves her Aunt Merfa & Uncle Cory, as well as her cousins, very much!

Can you believe that 2015 is almost over?! What a year of changes it has been for our family! We give all the glory and praise to God for his provision, blessings, and guidance this year. You, friends, are our greatest blessings!! Your support of our family, whether you've blessed us with time, love, friendship, or purchased Mary Kay, has kept us going through some difficult trials this year and provided for our needs. Read on to see what each of us has been up to this year and learn some of the ways your Mary Kay purchases have made a difference this year!

   Morgan is now officially an adult!! After graduating homeschool in May, she moved to Tulsa for the summer to complete an internship with Life.Church Jenks. She lived with her Grammy and Papa (Cory's parents) all summer, spent lots of time with them and with her baby cousin, Lexi, learned a lot about ministry and Jesus, and her mom and dad missed her VERY much! She did a fantastic job and is considering applying for an internship again next summer at another campus or pursuing opportunities with other church internship programs. She's now back in Stillwater, working at Starbucks and Old School Bagel Cafe, leading youth in a small group at Life.Church Stillwater, and spreading the love of Jesus wherever she goes. She's considering attending NOC or OSU next fall if that's where God leads her next. For now, she's waiting on His call and preparing for her next steps. We are so very proud of her for having the courage to wait for him and for being productive in the meantime. She has grown up so much this year, and I'm amazed daily by the woman she has become!

KayLynn is about to turn 17 and is growing into a lovely young lady. She started the Graphic Design program at our local technical school this fall and is thriving! She loves her schoolwork and has made new friends, and she enjoys getting to dress up and put on makeup for school. During therapy sessions this summer, she was diagnosed with high-functioning autism in addition to her severe ADHD. What a blessing her diagnosis has been! While there is no medical treatment, it has been incredibly productive just to know what we are facing and why she's continued to struggle with certain issues. Her therapist is experienced and works very well with her, and knowing her limits has allowed all of us to help her make plans for the future as she transitions into adulthood. She's looking forward to where God and her graphic design certification will take her!

Aaron is 14 and already over 6' tall!! At the rate he's growing, his doctors estimate that he will be 6'4" or 6'5" when fully grown, and he will probably continue growing until he's 18 or 19. He's thriving in homeschool, and his favorite subjects are algebra and science. Because he loves to cook and experiment in the kitchen, he makes dinner for the family most nights, and we love his servant heart and yummy meals! Earlier this year, he was diagnosed with a factor 7 blood clotting deficiency, which basically means that his blood doesn't clot as quickly as it should. It's a genetic condition, and the bad nosebleeds he's always had were the clue that led to his diagnosis. While we can't treat or cure the deficiency, we can manage some of the side effects and take precautions to prevent complications. His hematologist monitors him regularly, and he will have the first of two surgeries this month to cauterize the blood vessels in his nose. This should alleviate the nosebleeds and help stabilize his iron levels. We've learned this year what a HUGE blessing it is to have good health insurance and caring, dedicated health care professionals in our lives!

Cory has had some big changes this year, too. He got a job at Oklahoma State University, as a TV engineer in the ITLE department - now he's required to bleed orange! He is really enjoying his work and his co-workers, and this new career has given him the opportunity to go back to college this fall and work on finishing his degree. He's majoring in studio art and we've all enjoyed watching him rediscover his love and talent for design and drawing. More than school or work, though, Cory is absolutely smitten with his role as Uncle Cory! Lexi has stolen his heart with those beautiful blue eyes that are so much like his, and we are all loving every minute of watching her grow up.

As for me, I've made many changes this year as well. When Cory told me he was going back to school, I gave in to my inner nerd and decided to enroll myself. I completed my first full semester of college last night! While I wish I'd had the fortitude and maturity to do it 20 years ago, I'm still very proud of myself for succeeding this time around. I just celebrated my third year with SMC and love it, and in August I started my own Mary Kay business. I never imagined I'd enjoy it so much, but it has been such a bright spot in my busy, not always fun, schedule! Since I've begun using exclusively Mary Kay for my skin care and makeup, I can tell an amazing difference in my face. My complexion is more even, brighter, and blemishes stay away; I've been able to confidently go out in public with no foundation for the first time in my life. Well, I'm sure I was confident when I was two, but that doesn't really count. I have LOVED the opportunity to share these products with the women (and men!) I meet and those I already know and love. Every woman has something she'd change about her skin, and I get to help her do that! In addition, the financial benefits to our family have been very much appreciated. With my Mary Kay profit, I've donated to worthy causes, provided Christmas gifts for adopted families, taken Mom out to dinner with all of us, put gas in the car many times over, provided my family with healthier skin, purchased a high-quality, well-fitting bra, bought groceries, treated the kids to pizza, and SO much more. ALL of those things would have been impossible without my business and YOUR purchases! I'm going to be real and vulnerable with you for a minute: I stress a LOT about money. I'm very good at giving God worries about health, relationships, etc, but I struggle greatly with giving him my financial burdens. I second-guess every discretionary purchase I make - whether it's an extra box of cereal, a haircut, or that bag of Ghirardelli chocolates I really, really want. Because of you, these decisions have been a little easier lately. Aaron's upcoming surgeries will mean significant financial strain for our family, but because of you and Mary Kay, I feel less helpless and more prepared. It won't be easy, but you, my friends, give me hope. Aaron WILL have successful surgeries and better health, KayLynn WILL have the therapy sessions she needs, and we WILL have our needs met!

Thank you, from all of us, for another wonderful year. We pray blessings and peace to you this Christmas season and throughout 2016. We love you!!

We'd love to hear from you! Email us at meredithb@marykay.com or find us on Facebook.

I'm your dad, and you're my daughter

    I'll never forget the day "Uncle Shorty" finally became "Dad" to me. I put it off for years, keeping that part of my heart closed off as deeply as I could. It was Father's Day, several years ago, and instead of the usual "Papa" cards from the kids, I felt a strong desire to also get him a "Dad" card from me. I don't remember what it said, but it was perfect. When he read it, and I finally called him Dad, the look on his face told me I had done the right thing. That smile is forever seared into my heart! Words on a piece of folded, decorated cardstock made him smile at me with love, acceptance, pride, and joy in his eyes, and during the hug we shared, he told me, "I'm your dad, and you're my daughter. You always have been, ever since we got you. I'm real proud of you. I love you, daughter."
     After that day, he never missed an opportunity to call me his daughter, and every time he said it, he got that same proud, loving look on his face. Let me tell you, nothing broke those walls around my heart down faster than that face. He was my dad, and I was his daughter. Even as his mind was gradually stolen by Alzheimer's, he still called me daughter and gave me that smile. I will be forever grateful that God gave me a lucid goodbye, and that Dad's last words to me were "I love you."
     Now, on Father's Day, I find myself realizing that I don't just miss him. I also miss the men he replaced. I know that I resisted letting him fill their place for a reason, and now I am reminded why I was so stubborn. The ache in my heart is so deep that it takes my breath away - I grieve for Dad, knowing that visiting him tomorrow will mean visiting a grave. I grieve for Papa, the first man to ever show me what consistent, unconditional, fatherly love really is. I grieve for Fred, my bio dad, for the man he used to be and the man he has become. I grieve for all that I have lost and for all that could have been. I grieve, and I remember.
      I remember Fred taking me into the Frito-Lay truck when I was just a toddler, telling me I could choose any treat I wanted from the vast array. His voice was so gentle, his eyes so loving, and I knew how much he loved being my dad then.
     I remember staying up all night playing dominos with Papa, talking about anything and everything, or enjoying a comfortable silence. Those late nights are my favorite memory of my teenage years.
     I remember staying with Mom and Dad when Aaron was a baby, waking up to the sound of Aaron yelling 'hey!' when Dad walked by, and Dad yelling 'hey!' right back before coming to get him for some quality Papa-Aaron time.
     I remember the day Fred told me that his home was no longer my home, when I was 7 years old and completely blindsided by losing my daddy only two years after losing my mommy, unable to comprehend that he'd had to choose between me and his new family. 
     I remember the day Papa died, knowing he was gone the moment he let go of my arm and fell to the floor. I still shiver when I remember the bitter cold wind that chilled me to the bone as we buried Papa and Grandma together, when I was 16 and wondering how life could go on when I believed I had no one left to love me.
     I remember helping mom choose the flowers for Dad's funeral, overwhelmed with gratefulness that I had the privilege of being his daughter and being involved in the final days and moments of his life, but also overwhelmed with guilt at all the years I spent pushing him away.
     Happy Father's Day in heaven, Dad and Papa. Dad - you'll always be my dad, and I'll always be your daughter. Your grandchildren and I miss you more than words can say.  Papa - It's been so long since I lost you, and yet you are still with me in so many ways. My kids know what a great inventor and handyman you were, and how much you loved Little Debbies and strawberry pop. You'll always be a hero in my eyes.
     And, though I know you'll never hear it, Happy Father's Day, Fred. I hope you know that there's always a piece of my heart that belongs to you.

Grief is not just a word

Grief. Oh, that word. It's such a small word! Deceptively small, for such a large emotion. The feelings are never-ending, so shouldn't the word be longer than 5 letters? It's been almost three months since Dad died, and I still feel like I'm on autopilot most of the time. I'm not randomly bursting into tears on a daily basis anymore, so that's a plus. I even feel joy, happiness, and other positive emotions occasionally. Most days I think I seem pretty normal to everyone around me. All of these are definitely steps in the right direction, I think.
Yes, all those are good things, but I'm still not OK. I want to be. Oh, how I desperately want to be. This SUCKS. I always thought it was so odd that I literally don't remember the 6 months after my grandparents died, but now I understand it completely. If it was anything like this, it's no wonder I can't remember. I can't even keep track of what day it is, much less create memories that will still be there years from now. Some days, I think I'm back to myself again. I work, I enjoy life, I smile and laugh, I praise my Creator, I love, I pray, I sleep. Other days, I wonder when this shadow will ever lift. It's not that I can't function, it's more like I just don't want to. I'm tired, all the time. I rarely want to fix my hair, or put on my makeup, or pay attention to what I'm wearing. I've only been to church sporadically since he got so sick. That alone is SO hard! I love my church. I love being at the church with my church - holding babies, worshiping, laughing, talking, hugging....I love it all. My friends want me to come back. My husband wants me to come back. My kids, especially my oldest, want me to come back and don't understand why I don't. Heck, I don't even understand it, really. All I know is that I'm not ready. I've tried - I've gone several times, with most of those times ending in tears. So I stay home (thank you, Lord, for Church Online!). I know that one day I will be ready, I will go back. I know that I should be there. I know how important my church is and how much my spiritual life is bolstered by communion with other believers. I know that the longer I shut myself off, the less support and help I will receive from those who love me. I know how much I need that support and love. And yet, I'm just not ready. I hope and pray that my friends will not forget me, that they will realize how much I still love and need them, but I also know that their life is still going on full speed ahead. I know that friendship is a two-way street. I know that my withdrawal doesn't help friendships. So I wait. One day, this too will pass. Because I know that God is ENOUGH for me, I hold on, keep praying, keep worshiping, keep crying out to him, and I wait for the fog to dissipate.
And I know, with all my heart, that it will dissipate. There is life after grief. I know, because I've lived it. And one day, I will live it again. In the meantime, please be patient with me. I'm doing the very best that I can.

Just One Word

Last January, I wrote a blog post about my 'one word' for 2013. If you haven't seen it, check it out here:Yep, I'm crazy.... When I look back on that post and realize just how much our lives have changed since then, I realize that God was so very faithful in showing me just how much "more" he is able to do, even when I have less to give. Especially when I have less to give. I had no idea when I stopped serving in LifeKIDS a year ago that by the time the year was over, I would be thankful for my Sunday mornings alone. When I wrote Alzheimer's is a horrid, cruel disease. last March, I had no idea that less than six months later, I'd be using every ounce of my emotional, mental, and physical energy just to function as we struggled to find Dad a home and keep him safe. I didn't know that I would be writing his obituary by October, or how deeply I would be overcome by depression afterward. I had no idea that as the calendar marked a new year, my emotions would still be so fragile that even attending church would become difficult. It's been over two months since Dad met Jesus, and I still haven't conquered this demon we call depression. Last year, I somehow missed the point of "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more...according to HIS power at work within us" and mistakenly believed that I would be the one doing "more" instead of realizing that GOD would be the one doing "more" in me. As we greet this new year, I am broken, humbled, completely reliant on God's strength instead of my own. And so, with my inadequacies and weaknesses bared for all to see, I realize that my word this year is "enough". But He said to me, My grace (My favor and loving-kindness and mercy) is ENOUGH for you...my strength and power are made perfect (fulfilled and completed) and show themselves most effective in {your} weakness. Therefore, I will all the more gladly glory in my weaknesses...that the strength and power of Christ (the Messiah) may rest (yes, may pitch a tent over and dwell) upon me!!   2 Corinthians 12:9

Enough. God's power, God's grace, God's kindness, God's favor....he is enough for me. His power is most effective when I am weak. All this inadequacy I am feeling, all this absolute powerlessness, makes me strong because I am living by HIS power, not my own. And as I know, he is able to do immeasurably more than I can even imagine, let alone do, myself. He is enough. He is more than enough. Already, in the very first day of this new year, I have seen his favor, his mercy, his love. I have watched my husband teach our son how to replace a doorknob, and by doing so, he also taught him how to follow through on promises and how to show others love in the ways they receive it best. That one simple lesson in home improvement showed just how much my amazing husband loves all of us. I am blessed. I have enough. Just today, we received an amazing gift from Cory's parents that will continue to bless us for months and years to come. We have jobs, we have food, we have clothing, and a home. We have our family - all five people in our house love Jesus and love others, and that makes all the difficult moments a little bit easier to navigate. We have pets, reliable vehicles, cable tv, and lots of love. We have friends who are close enough to be family, a church family we love dearly, and the best extended family we could ever ask for. We're always just one text away from a smile - a photo of our sweet baby niece, a funny joke, an encouraging lift from a friend. We are living under the favor, strength, and power of the Messiah, and that is enough. No matter how long this season of depression and weakness lasts, I will remind myself, every day if I have to, that I have God's power, and therefore, I have enough.

Funeral Etiquette

WARNING: Do NOT read this post if you are looking for a feel-good, happy, thankful post. I am angry, I am hurting, I am grieving, I am irritable. While some of this may be judgmental or catty, most is actually useful advice...

FUNERAL ETIQUETTE

• No matter how casual the dress code, see-through is never an appropriate choice. No one wants to see your underclothes (or lack of them) while burying a loved one.
• If you’re not sure what to say, just say ‘I’m sorry.’ They may not be the most eloquent words, but the family probably won’t remember what you say to them anyway. Nothing you can say will make them truly feel better, but your words can make them feel worse.
• Carry plenty of tissues and offer them freely. The ones provided by the funeral home are like tissue paper and are not ideal for wiping eyes, noses, or anything else.
• You will be uncomfortable. Deal with it. Everyone else is sitting in the same hard chairs, or standing in the same cold wind, just like you. Funerals are not designed for comfort.
• If someone offers you a funeral program or anything else the family has chosen to hand out, just take it. If you refuse, you look like an inconsiderate jerk.
• Don’t talk during the service. Ever. Nothing you have to say is that important.
• If the deceased person has done you the honor of raising your child(ren) for you, you need to be at the funeral. Here are a few special guidelines, just for you:
• First, show up, sit down and shut up. Honor the person who filled your shoes by respecting the rest of the family.
• Your child is grieving. Comfort them. Do not roll your eyes at your child. Do not expect your child's natural love for you to overcome the loss they are feeling.
• If your child has a meltdown, you should be the FIRST person to get up and check on them. If they don't want your comfort, go check on them anyway.
• Your child just lost a parent. This is your opportunity to step back in and BE a parent, even if only for an hour or two. Consider it a blessing to be there, not a burden.
• If you can't manage to behave appropriately, just stand up in the middle of the service, walk to the casket, and take a bow. You have officially managed to make someone else's funeral all about you. Side note: don't be surprised if you somehow don't find out about the next family funeral until AFTER it's over.
• If you can’t manage to attend, send flowers. Or a plant. Or both. Better yet, do both AND show up. There are very, very few legitimate excuses for not showing up.
• If you don’t like the music, the preacher, the casket, the flowers, or anything else, keep your opinion to yourself. Even if you’re family. ESPECIALLY if you’re family.
• Ladies, wear waterproof mascara, even if you think you won’t need it.
• Wear comfortable clothing. If attending a graveside service, don't wear heels. I've made this mistake. Just trust me; I'm the queen of awkward, and tripping at a funeral is definitely embarrassing.
• If you send flowers, include the name of the person you want to have them afterward. Dividing them up is the first thing the family has to do after the service, and naming the person you're sending to on the card prevents unnecessary bickering at a time when emotions are running high.
• If your name is listed in the obituary, defer to everyone whose name is listed before yours. This greatly reduces the aforementioned emotional bickering.
• If the people whose name is listed before yours in the obituary are being unreasonable and not listening to you, refer to the above statement. Repeat as often as necessary. I promise, the memories of your loved one are the ones you want to hold on to, not the details of their funeral service or the disagreements about dividing up their belongings.
• If your name is not mentioned in the obituary, defer to everyone who is. Always.
• It's OK to laugh. It's OK to be glad to see family members you don't often visit. Enjoy the happy moments, because there will be plenty of unhappy ones too. 
• If you are fortunate enough to be a part of the family lunch hosted by the church, thank those who prepare and serve it. They are honored to host this for you, and your gratitude reminds them what a blessing they are.
• Don't fall victim to comparison. Your relationship with your loved one was not the same as your sister's, or your cousin's, or your uncle's, or anyone else's. You're all hurting. Support one another.
• Wait a week or two after the service and send (or give) a card to someone whose name is listed in the obituary. The first month (or few months) is hard on close family members as life around them goes back to ‘normal’. 
• If you're conflicted about whether or not you should go to the funeral, go. 
• Don't assume that once the funeral is over, the family is fine. As life goes back to 'normal', they are still grieving. If you can do something for a close family member in the months after the death, do it! Take them a meal, plan an outing, take their kids out for ice cream...whatever is appropriate for the relationship you have and the things they appreciate.
• Don't judge. Everyone grieves in different ways, and for different amounts of time. There is no right or wrong way to go on with life after losing someone you love.
• Have a plan. The least stressful funerals for families are the ones that have already been planned and/or paid for. Even if you can't pay for it, make a plan and a will, and make sure your family knows where to find it.

 

Dallas Alic "Shorty" Standridge

Dallas Alic “Shorty” Standridge, 84, went to be with his heavenly father on October 18, 2013. He was born on April 9, 1929 in Ralston, OK. Shorty married the love of his life, Blanche Virginia Beyl, on October 15, 1954, and together they shepherded and loved five children, ten grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. He was ordained a deacon at Gilcrease Baptist Church in Tulsa, OK. Later in life he could be found at the north doors of Olivet Baptist Church every week, greeting all who entered with a smile and handshake. He was blessed to be able to welcome worshipers even after he began to be affected by Alzheimer's, up until about 6 weeks before his death. Shorty extended the love of Jesus to everyone he met and was a wonderful spiritual leader to his family. Everyone who knew him was touched by his warm smile, his sense of humor, and his ornery side. At Christmas, he enjoyed telling the story of his 'penny sucker' each year, and his children and grandchildren never failed to make sure he had a bag of suckers to share with everyone. When he was a child, his father and uncle had only three pennies between the two of them to provide Christmas gifts for their children. Because three of the children were old enough to understand the significance of gifts, the brothers pooled their pennies and purchased one penny sucker for each of the three so that they would not have to go without. Shorty used that experience as a lesson to always be thankful for what you have, even if it is only a 'penny sucker'.

Shorty will be greatly missed by his family and friends. He leaves behind his wife, Virginia, of the home, his children: Ann Brunken, of Maramec, Dee Lancaster and her husband Bobby, of Tulsa, Shorty Wayne Standridge, of Tulsa, Kay Imhoff and her husband Merle of Tulsa, and Meredith Beyl Been and her husband Cory, of Stillwater. He is also survived by his grandchildren: Richard Sanders and Cherie Johnson, of Terlton, Daniel Lancaster, of Tulsa, John Sanders, of Pawnee, Lacie Lancaster and her husband Brady Bonner, of Tulsa, Danielle Imhoff, of Tulsa, Morgan Been, of Stillwater, and KayLynn and Aaron Creager, of Stillwater, as well as three great-grandchildren: Charlene, Samantha, and Cody Johnson, of Terlton, two sisters, Bonnie and Lois Standridge of Mannford, and many friends and extended family members. Shorty was preceded in death by his 

parents, one sister, one brother, and one nephew. He worked for Rockwell International for 26 years and was an active member of the UAW for 50 years.

The family will be at Olivet Baptist Church in Tulsa on Tuesday, October 22, from 1-2pm, to welcome all who would like to share memories or express condolences, and his funeral service will follow graveside at Oak Hill Cemetery in Mannford at 3:30pm. Mannford Funeral Home is handling the arrangements. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that donations be made to the Alzheimer's Association in Shorty's honor.

Day 3 - ADHD and Fever

I realize it's actually day five, but I missed the last two days (thank you, my thorn in the flesh) and something in my brain just won't let me skip to match the date. Sooooo.....day three it is!
This morning, my amazingly wonderful hubby had to drive KayLynn & Aaron's dad's house to pick up KayLynn. She had texted me several times through the night and early morning to tell me how awful she felt and how sick she was. Now, if this had been EITHER of my other two kids, I would have sympathized but not worried - they both inherited my allergy problems, so congestion, drainage, and even puking are pretty normal for the three of us. KayLynn, however, manged to avoid that gene. I honestly think I could count on one hand the number of times she's been legitimately sick, and since she's 14, that's pretty impressive. When she was little, my best friend Jenn and I used to joke that our ADHD children were the healthiest kids we knew because the germs just couldn't catch them. Seriously. Everyone else in the house could be miserable with the flu, and KayLynn would still be bouncing off the walls, talking, singing, laughing, playing, and getting in to everything. As she's gotten older, that's been VERY helpful, since she can put all that energy to good use helping to take care of the rest of us.

Oddly enough, though, when KayLynn does get sick, it doesn't affect her the same way it would any of us. If she has a fever, she's amazingly normal. Calm, coherent, focused, and she'll even sleep (a little) without medication. The first time she ever had the flu, I knew that she was sick when she remained lying down on the Dr's office waiting room couch for the full ten minutes we waited, then walked calmly back with me. If you have a child with ADHD, you know how remarkable that is! It was such a strange thing to watch - when the ibuprofen/tylenol I gave her brought the fever down, she was just as energetic as ever, despite her body's obvious cues that she needed rest. As the fever rose, she became calmer, more focused, less whiny, and was able to give her body the rest it needed. At that time, her pediatrician told me that fever itself is not bad for her, as long as it's not too high, so he suggested I just keep her well hydrated and resting, and only give her medication to lower the fever if it rose above 101. DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor, nor am I vouching for this advice for everyone. But it did (and still does) work for us. Now that she is older, we let her help set the tone of when to take Tylenol or ibuprofen, and she generally will choose not to take it unless her 'feeling bad' hits a certain threshold. We have learned that she seems to recover from viruses more quickly than the rest of us, as long as she takes a full day or two to actually rest - and sometimes that means letting her remain unmedicated while she's feverish, then ensuring she is properly medicated (with her Concerta and her Clonidine for sleep) after that, to make it possible for us to monitor her activity and make sure she rests. Once the fever is gone, she becomes her usual bouncy self, so the Concerta is vital to allowing us to be successful at getting her to rest. We can get her started on a good book, and anime show, a computer game, or something similar, and then she is more than willing to drink more fluids, eat like she needs to , and REST her body as her brain remains engaged. Sure, one of us needs to stay with her, even though she's old enough to stay alone. If we didn't keep her focused on caring for herself, she'd forget to take medication when she needs it, forget to drink to stay hydrated, forget to eat, and even get distracted and decide to act out a game or start dancing, without remembering that she's sick, until she passes out or suddenly throws up. According to this story in ADDitude magazine, http://www.additudemag.com/adhdblogs/4/5192.html, I am not alone!! And this isn't the only article I found discussing this issue. It seems that fever may, in fact, impact the ADHD brain in a positive way - allowing the ADHD symptoms to subside or decrease while the fever is present. I'm praying for scientific research on this soon - if we can figure out WHY our kids' brains are different when they have a fever, maybe we can find a way to pinpoint a new treatment. How exciting would that be?!?

Day Two - Babies, babies, babies!

We've all heard about birth plans, right? In our medically advanced country, we are encouraged to choose our childbirth style within days of discovering that a fetus is growing in our bellies. Natural childbirth? Scheduled C-Section? VBAC? Epidural? Hospital birth or home birth? Doctor, midwife, doula? Water birth? If you're already a mother, will your kids get to watch? What about your family and friends? Will you film the birth? Take pictures? If it's a boy, will you circumcise him? What about immunizations? Will you breastfeed and for how long? The options are endless. What we don't usually imagine, however, is seeing our newborn baby on oxygen.

Approximately 10% of newborns require assistance to begin breathing at birth. While most infants begin breathing very quickly, a condition called birth asphyxia occurs when a baby's brain and other organs do not get enough oxygen before, during, or right after birth. Birth asphyxia occurs in about four out of every 1,000 full term births, more frequently in preterm births, and can have many causes - umbilical cord problems, the mother's blood pressure, or a very long or difficult delivery, to name a few. Until recently, this would have had no relevance at all when discussing ADHD. In December of 2012, however, a Kaiser Permanente study revealed that birth asphyxia is associated with a 26% greater risk of developing ADHD, regardless of race or ethnicity. This is a HUGE breakthrough for me personally! For years, I've wondered if this had ever been studied. My KayLynn, whose ADHD is severe, had a difficult birth and was on oxygen for about an hour after delivery. From the day she was born, I knew there was something different about her, and she has always been my most demanding, difficult, impulsive, and unpredictable child. She climbed before she walked, rarely slept more than four hours at a time even as a toddler, and never seemed to slow down. She was diagnosed with ADHD a few months before she turned four, which is practically unheard of, and yet no one who knows her would deny that the diagnosis is accurate. While I am sure that her difficult birth is not the cause of her condition, I am also sure that the amount of time her brain was deprived of oxygen did contribute to its severity. No birth plan could have changed that or predicted the crazy wonderfulness that is our life now.
Just like seeing our sweet baby on oxygen is something we don't want to imagine, domestic violence during pregnancy is a sight we wish we could ignore. Unfortunately, one out of every six pregnant women has been a victim of intimate partner violence. Domestic violence is more common than any other health problem among pregnant women, and in many abusive relationships, pregnancy can trigger an increase in violence. As a result, many battered women do not receive adequate prenatal care. These women may be manipulated by their partners into not seeing a doctor, convinced that they don't need or don't deserve appropriate care, too frightened to seek medical attention, or  too ashamed to run the risk of a doctor discovering their situation. Domestic violence is motivated by a need for power and control, and as a result, pregnant women are reluctant to leave their partners out of fear that they will be unable to support themselves and their baby. Even if her abuser refrains from physically injuring her while she is pregnant, the victim is often subjected to financial abuse, deprived of adequate nutrition or basic needs, or berated and emotionally battered on a daily basis. The effects of domestic violence during pregnancy are heartbreaking and can have devastating effects on both mother and baby.  The number one and number two causes of women's death during pregnancy are domestic homicide and suicide (which is often tied to abuse). If you are in an abusive relationship, whether you're pregnant or not, please get help! Leaving is not easy - and neither is sharing a child with someone who has hurt you - but both are healthier and better for you AND your child than staying in a violent relationship. Take it from me, it IS possible to break the cycle and become a survivor instead of a victim!

October = Awareness, Day One!

In case you didn't know, October is the 'awareness' month for a LOT of causes, and most well-known is probably breast cancer. This month, you can find just about anything in pink, and so much has been done for breast cancer research and support because of that little pink ribbon. In my world, though, there are a couple of causes that are more near and dear to my own heart and life that also claim October as their awareness month. My goal is to share some facts or stories every day in October about these and see if I can teach you (and myself!) something new!

First, October is domestic violence awareness month. I am a survivor of domestic abuse many times over, and I was blessed to get to help others make the transition from victim to survivor when I worked for a domestic violence shelter. This month, I will share statistics and facts, maybe a personal story or two, and ways you can make a difference. Domestic violence is a very real problem in America and around the world, with very real and damaging effects on victims, families, communities, and even the economy.

Second, October is ADHD Awareness month. This is an issue that is very, very real and present for me every day, because the 13-yr-old beauty I homeschool, love, and raise is severely affected. I have learned SO much about being a good parent, an intentional parent, a creative parent, a guilt-ridden parent, an embarrassed parent, a frustrated parent, and more because I am her mom. ADHD is a real condition, with real affects on the brain, and the lives of my brilliant but misunderstood daughter and of our entire family are different, better, because of this disorder. I can't wait to see how this month unfolds and what God puts on my heart to share!!
Father, bless this month and the project I'm beginning. Give me the right quotes and studies, the right statistics, the right words of encouragement for those who read this blog. Bring me a greater understanding of both domestic violence and ADHD, and allow me to share that understanding with others so that I can shine your light of love, hope, and restoration over these issues. Thank you for leading me through these situations so that I can be your hands and feet to others who haven't yet found peace and safety. Thank you for blessing me with KayLynn and opening my eyes to the challenges and wonders that come from her mind. Thank you for trusting me to guide her and develop her, to help her grow and learn, and to shepherd her through the battles of her disease. We love you!

Not my usual letter

Mom,

If you were still alive, I'd probably be spending the next week planning a big 60th birthday party for you. Instead, I've been in complete inner turmoil thinking about you. To be honest, I'm really, really angry with you, and that bugs me. I feel like there's something very wrong about being angry with a dead person. Your birthday, the day I always write you a letter telling you how much I love and miss you, is in six days - and all I can think about is how angry I am with you for dying.

Yep, I said it. I'm angry with you for dying. I know, I know, you didn't crash the car into that tree, and you didn't leave the house that morning intending to never come home. And yet, your death was a direct consequence of your choices. Unfortunately, instead of your choices creating consequences for you, they created consequences for everyone who loved you. Your choices have also created so many questions I wish I could ask you. Why did you choose to ride with your friend that day instead of driving to work? Why did you marry a man who abused you and your daughter and allow him to do the things he did? Why did you choose drugs and sex over your child and your marriage? Those are questions that I will never know the answer to. Never. No one else can tell me those things. Those who knew you then could guess, or make excuses for you, but only you have the answers.

I love you so much my heart could burst sometimes. I long for just one day with you, one mother-daughter date with me as the daughter instead of the mother, one good, tearful shouting match. Is it weird that I want to fight with you? Everyone I know fights with their moms sometimes; I can't think of a single person I know (my own daughters included) who hasn't had a knock-down, drag-out, 'I can't stand you' fight with their mom at some point in their lives. And yet, when the fight is over and the emotions less heightened, the love remains. And the love...oh the love. A mother's love is divine. Unconditional, generous, endless, and filled with longing to give her child more that she herself has ever had. I love my children so much that there is nothing they could ever do to make me love them less. When they screw up, I just want to fix it and hold them until they feel better. When they do something well, I can't stop talking about it and my heart is overwhelmed with awe. When someone hurts them, I want to defend and protect them. When we fight, I cry because I fear that they'll never understand why I've done whatever it is that makes them so angry, and because I fear that I've done something wrong as a parent because they aren't perfect. Their success, their failure, their pain, their joy, I feel it all as if it were my own. There is nothing in this world I wouldn't give up for any one of them.

So what I really don't understand, mom, what I'm really, really angry about, is why you didn't feel all of those things for me. Why was my dependence on you not enough to keep you from choosing a path of drugs? Why was my innocence not valuable enough for you to protect? Why was my faith in you not enough to motivate you to make better choices? What was it that made me unworthy? Why was I not enough?

I'm still hoping and praying that by Friday, I'll be ready to write you a better birthday letter, one that isn't full of anger and questions. For now, though, this is all I have. I don't know where you're spending eternity, but I pray that was one choice you got right and that I will see you in Heaven. I love you, mom, and miss you always.

Meredith Lee

My Marriage Top Ten

When I have a migraine, it's like my brain is in nonsensical overdrive. I can't stop thinking, talk too much, and don't make much sense at all. It's like a bouncy ball has taken up residence in my brain, ricocheting from one thought to another and creating pain with every bounce. Tonight, my thoughts wandered to the epic fight my hubby and I had Wednesday night. Thinking about the fight made me wonder how in the world I can be giving relationship advice to ANYONE when I just behaved like that, which led to Bible reading to find words of wisdom. I started thinking about all the different tidbits of relationship advice that I've passed on to others, wondering if they would still think my advice was good if they had witnessed that fight. We were both definitely not following our own advice! As I was reading, I came upon this verse: Turn from evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it. Psalm 34:14

Seems pretty simple, right? Turn from evil. Do good. Seek peace. Pursue it. Whoa...wait a minute....pursue it? That one little word makes it seem that peace isn't something we can just find and keep - it's something we have to pursue, to chase, to work at. If the Bible tells us to pursue peace, that makes me think that sometimes we won't be successful. Sometimes, we may lose it, and then we have to start chasing it again. Maybe, just maybe, our epic fight wasn't a sign that we are failures at marriage and unqualified to give advice. Maybe it was just a sign that we need to keep pursuing peace and encouraging others to do the same. Maybe we aren't qualified to advise others, but God is - and when we give advice, we earnestly pursue God's wisdom and try not to give our opinions, but instead God's inspirations. Our advice isn't our own, but instead it's Holy Spirit speaking through us. Or at least that's our goal. So with that in mind, here are my top 10 recommendations for strengthening your marriage. And mine. :-)

1. Pursue peace. When we focus on pursuing peace, we aren't focusing on being right, or on making our grievances heard. When I choose to focus on pursuing peace, I give my husband extra grace and leeway if I can tell he's having a bad day. If my goal is peace, I don't try to make him see what a jerk he's being - I just try to make him feel better so he can get over his funk in his time. Sure, it means I have to be less sensitive and more forgiving, but if I give up my right to be offended, epic fights are much less likely.
2. Never forget that my spouse is my number two. Cory is second only to God on my priority list - ahead of my kids, my friends, even myself. If that's true, he deserves more grace, more patience, more forgiveness, and more tolerance from me than anyone else. I'd never dream of not forgiving my kids when they upset me, even if they're intentionally being disrespectful, defiant, or disobedient. If I can give that kind of unconditional love to them, he deserves it even more.
3. Respect that my husband and I are one person, in two bodies. This one is hard! I was a single mom for so long that I have a tendency to want to take charge and make decisions (like letting the kids go places) without getting his opinion. Because I am a survivor of child abuse and domestic violence, I assert my independence often and resist vigorously if I feel like I'm being told what to do. Genesis 2:24 tells me that...a man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one. When I don't respect that, or he doesn't, we have conflict. Every time.
4. Have faith in him, even when I'm inwardly skeptical. In our marriage, I am the planner and the risk analyst, and Cory is the spontaneous risk-taker. When he has an idea, he sees the endless possibilities it could bring, while I see the obstacles that could cause failure. Sure, it's frustrating when he wants to spend money we don't have on some new business venture that he KNOWS will be his calling, but I've learned that if I can have faith in him and present my logical concerns in a loving way, leaving the final decision to him, he usually makes the right choice. No matter what, he knows that I'm not trying to suppress his unbelievable creativity, and I'm loving my husband for the unique person he is. The impact of that on our relationship is worth more than any amount of money.
5. View our differences as complimentary instead of confrontational. Cory and I are like two pieces of an intricate puzzle - put us together the wrong way, and we just don't fit. Line up the pieces right, and we complement each other to create a beautiful picture. I can choose to be frustrated that he can envision a grand plan without even thinking about the little steps that pave the way, or I can choose to be glad I don't have to come up with the big vision and fill in the details of the little steps for him.
6. Brag about him to others, whether he can hear me or not. The way I speak about my husband when he's not around speaks volumes about my commitment to our marriage. Have you ever met a couple who's been married for 50 years or more? I've met a few, and one thing I've noticed about every single one of them is that when I ask one spouse about the other, they speak only good. I'm sure they've had their share of epic fights, but they don't draw others into them. Double bonus? When I am intentional about sharing the wonderful parts of my husband with others, my own focus naturally shifts to what I love about him & I become less frustrated by the little things he does that drive me crazy.
7. Don't say 'I told you so' or any variation of it. There are plenty of people in his life that will play that card, and I shouldn't be one of them. Chances are, he already knows I was right and me rubbing it in only makes him feel worse about whatever his failure is. Instead, I want to be sympathetic and encouraging, his assistant in fixing the problem and moving forward.
8. Let him be the spiritual leader. I'll admit, this one is really tough for me. I have more Bible knowledge and more years of experience living for Christ, and early in our marriage I was the one who led the kids spiritually. However, I've learned that when I let him lead and support his efforts, his confidence grows and God leads him to do things I wouldn't have ever thought of doing. Empowering Cory lets him grow in faith, confidence, and as a leader, and in turn, I get to relinquish some of the load. It's absolutely amazing how good it feels to hear him lead our family using scriptures I've taught him or passages we've discussed!
9. Never stop dating. Whether it's a trip to the gas station, a dinner out, or a full weekend of time alone, it's important. If we don't take time to date, we can go an entire week or more and not talk about anything except our jobs, our kids, and what to eat. On dates, we put our phones away and focus on each other., which leads to both of us feeling like the other cares enough to listen to whatever silly or boring story we tell.
10. Make family time a priority. We have 'family night' at least once a week. No matter what we're doing, we spend the evening together. No one is allowed to go play in their rooms, and no one is allowed to be on their phone/laptop/tablet/gaming system. Even if we're just having dinner and watching TV, we're showing our kids that family matters. After all, one day they'll have families of their own, and we're laying the groundwork for them to be active parents instead of uninterested ones. The weeks we don't have family night, everyone in our house becomes more sensitive, more crabby, more easily offended. Making time for ourselves as a family keeps us all from being overscheduled, overstressed, and underappreciated, which leads to a happier home, happier kids, happier mom, happier dad, and stronger marriage. Who knew America's Got Talent could be a key to keeping a family running smoothly?!?

Memorial Day

When I was little, Memorial Day always meant I was going to someone's grave. When I lived with Aunt Virginia, it was my Beyl relatives - Grandma & Grandpa Beyl, Aunt Eula, and many others I didn't know. If I was with Grandma & Papa, we would of course be visiting my mom and the three children they had buried in the same cemetery, along with more people I didn't know. Memorial Day wasn't a time for barbeques, or picnics, or going to the lake - it was a day to remember not only our fallen military heroes, but also all those who died before us and shaped our personal family history. We honored them with fake flowers, stories of their lives, and photographs of me as a child crouched uncomfortably next to my mother's tombstone. We spent hours in the car, driving from one cemetery to another, often stopping to see family members along the way.

As an adult, I don't spend my Memorial Day the same way. I've only been to visit my mother's and grandparents' graves twice as an adult - once with my cousin Teri, which became a devastating visit as I realized that my grandparents had no tombstone, and once with my own kids, which ruined one of my favorite pairs of shoes and resulted in opening a floodgate of sadness for me. I'm sure if I went more often, or made an annual tradition of it, I could hold myself together better. For now, though, I just don't go. Something about remembering all those I've lost while at their gravesides is just too much, and because the drive is so long, I find reasons to avoid it. Today, I remember:

Grandpa & Grandma Beyl - their little house was cozy, comfortable, and covered in birds of every size and color. Grandma just radiated a kind of beautiful, quiet strength that she passed on to my mom-by-choice, Aunt Virginia. Grandpa's face crinkled when he smiled, and he smiled often. Grandma taught me to love Rice Krispies and always had words of wisdom to share.
Uncle Charles - I loved him so much! He was accepting, loving, kind, and generous, and he loved me despite my many faults at the time we were close. He was the first person I took Morgan to visit when she was born - we went to his house even before going home from the hospital. He taught me so much, and to this day I use his advice as a deciding factor in loaning money or things to others - "if you aren't prepared and able to give it as a gift, don't give it at all. Then, if you are repaid or it is returned, it will be an unexpected bonus."
Grandma & Papa Shatswell - they were the only people in my life who were a consistent, loving influence from the time I was born until they died my junior year of high school. They weren't perfect, but I always knew how much they loved me, and they were the center of my world. Losing them was harder than anyone else I've lost so far in my life, and I miss them always. When they died, a little piece of my heart died forever with them.
Aunt Alice - she was my Grandma Shatswell's sister, and she was the only person from my mom's side of the family that came to my high school graduation. She missed church to see me graduate as valedictorian, and that was a sacrifice that I can't even put into words. We kept in touch long after my contact with the rest of the family faded, and I still look in the direction of her house when I drive into Sand Springs.
Grandma & Grandpa Crawford - they were my Grandma Shatswell's parents and lived on the same lot as Aunt Alice. When Grandma Crawford died, Aunt Alice moved out of her little house and down to the big house to take care of Grandpa. Grandpa was a traveling preacher and loved to fish. Grandma Crawford had weekly church at home after she became too ill to go to church, and I remember many late nights falling asleep on the floor as others were worshiping and praying around me.
Mom - I'm always amazed at how much I miss someone I didn't really even know. She was beautiful, she loved me, and my life changed indescribably the day she died in a car accident. I was five, and my Grandma & Papa Shatswell, her parents. were the ones who came to tell me the awful news. At the time, I only knew that I was hurting, but now I know that losing her was so very painful for them as well. When I was told that she was never coming home, I ran screaming from the trailer, wailing at the top of my lungs as I ran circles around the mobile home. On the way back to Tulsa with Grandma, Papa, and Grandpa Crawford, I stubbed my toe so many times it bled, and I fell asleep with my head in Grandma's lap and her prayers in my ears. I woke up in a car with my dad & stepmom, so angry that they had taken me away. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral or to speak of my mom at all in my dad's home. For years I imagined that my mom hadn't really died and that she would one day come back for me.

No, I didn't drive to their graves today, but they are always in my heart. And one day, I will see them again, in the city where the Lamb is the light, because every single one of those people, with the exception of my mom. left me a legacy of love for God - and that's the best memory of all.

Why did I quit again?

So this weekend, I've been serving in LifeKIDS again for the first time since quitting in January - and I've LOVED every minute of it!! Holding babies, giving high fives, welcoming new families, and just being there....my heart has been so full of happy that it's overflowing!! I was worried that I'd be tired or feel out of place, but instead I'm energized and just as comfortable as ever in the yellow hallway. Serving this weekend has made me ache with just how much I miss LifeKIDS. I miss it so much that sometimes (like this weekend) I have to ask myself, "Why did I quit again?"

Thankfully, I serve a God who never fails to provide reminders when I need them. Last night, just when I wanted to run around the corner and tell Heather and Chelsea to put me back on the schedule for good and count me in for this Sunday morning even though I signed up for evening only, God put a friend in my path & prompted a great conversation about homeschooling. He reminded me that he called me to leave LifeKIDS so he could shift my focus and move me in a new direction. Tonight when I was welcoming kids and volunteers and thought God couldn't possibly NOT want me to come back for good, he put someone in my path who hadn't heard the story behind my quitting. Yet again, my God reminded me how he called me to leave, not knowing why, and then led me right into homeschooling. Before long, he brought me another friend who wanted to hear about our new adventure, and then another wanting to hear why I stopped serving. Sure, you could call that coincidence, or simply the curiosity of friends, but I don't. I call that God's voice, clearly reminding me that he called me to leave for a reason, that my comfort zone isn't always the best place for me to be.

Tonight, I'm so thankful the weekend isn't over, and that I get to go back into my comfort zone tomorrow to welcome and love some more LifeKIDS. I'm also thankful that, as much as I miss being there for every moment of the weekend, I get the privilege of spending part of my Sunday shepherding my own kids. I get to sleep in, work on my Easter plans for them, and create their lesson plans for the week. I get to decide what KayLynn will study now that she's finished and passed Algebra (can I just say homeschooling suits her well?!?): German, Biology, Psychology, Music? I get to decide what group project they'll do, what Bible study I'll assign, what character trait they'll work on this week. I may not get to spend my entire day loving and leading other people's kids, but I DO get to spend the day loving and leading my own. What a blessing! This whole homeschool adventure could have crashed and burned already and we could have failed miserably, but we haven't. My 8th grader is learning new things instead of fighting boredom and inattention, my sophomore is spending two afternoons a week living out her calling by preparing for the ministry God's calling her into, my 6th grader is practicing handwriting while learning God's word, and we're all reaping the benefits of a much less stressed-out family.

So why did I quit again? Oh, yeah - because my God told me to, and he has blessed my obedience. This weekend we celebrate Jesus' ultimate obedience on the cross and God's ultimate faithfulness three days later, when he resurrected his dead son, our savior. Jesus was obedient. God was faithful. And as a result, we are able to do immeasurably more than we can even imagine by the power of the Spirit living in us. What beautiful blessings we receive when we choose to obey!

...What is more pleasing to the Lord: your burnt offerings and sacrifices, or your obedience to his voice? Listen! Obedience is better than sacrifice... 1 Samuel 15:22

Alzheimers is a horrid, cruel disease.

When I know bad news is coming, I like to prepare for it. Scary illness diagnosis? I research it until I know every possible scenario. Long-term illness diagnosis? Same thing - I find out as much as I can about the stages and progression and arm myself with statistics so I'll be ready when the inevitable happens. So, when my dad-by-choice was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, I researched the stages, determined where he was, and relied on regular updates from my mom-by-choice. We've been blessed to have had so many great, coherent years with him - after he was diagnosed, it was determined that he had begun showing symptoms about the time I went to live with them. I was 8 then, and now I'm 36 - so he has done remarkably well! By the time he was diagnosed, he had lived with the disease for over 10 years without any of us realizing it. He was still at an early stage when he started medications, and they were very successful in keeping him stable. My kids have gotten to know their Papa and build many, many memories with him, and that blesses my socks off. My Papa was so very special to me, but with my dad out of the picture, I always worried that my kids wouldn't have that. I should have known that God would take care of it! Uncle Shorty has been the best Papa I ever could have wanted for them and they love him dearly!
Still, with all my preparations, I knew what was coming. Amazingly enough, the knowing hasn't really softened the blows of this awful disease. The first time he didn't know me when I called, I cried. The first time he looked into my MoMo's big brown eyes and didn't know her, we both cried. As Aunt Virginia shared her struggles in dealing with his violent, angry outbursts, I cried. I knew that the strong, godly, quiet leader was disappearing as his brain deteriorated. The more he progresses, the more I seize the moments we have and research what's coming next. I know what happens, I know the next steps and the indignities he will suffer as time passes, and over the last few months we've realized the disease is now taking over at a rapid rate. He gets lost, he forgets to stop at stop signs or red lights, he sleeps only a few hours at a time and wakes up thinking it's a new day. He gets angry and throws fits, he collects 'treasures' and hoards them, and the list of people he's forgotten or failed to recognize keeps getting longer. I know where this is going. I'm prepared. I am strong. I will be the rock for my mom-by-choice and my children to lean on. I'm not a crier, not one who falls apart, so I will be the strong tower they can turn to as we travel this road together. I can handle it.

So why am I in tears? If I'm so strong, if I'm so prepared, if I knew this day was coming, why am I crushed to hear my sweet, wonderful, loving mom-by-choice tell me that he didn't recognize her on Sunday? I knew the peace we've had wouldn't last forever, and yet every new step knocks me over. I'm thankful he eventually remembered, but my heart breaks just trying to imagine the pain she must have felt as he asked her where his wife was. I know how it feels when he doesn't recognize me. Her pain must be so much more! They've been married for 58 years. She was the last person he would forget, since she is his anchor and the one he must have near him in order to function. This is not a little thing, a small glitch, a phone call I'll forget tomorrow. This is a moment I will remember forever. I've done the research, so I know this is more significant than any other person he's forgotten. I know that, combined with his other recent symptoms, he's probably not going to know any of us soon. And believe me, I'm so very, very thankful for the time we've had. I know that I should be focusing on the good, thanking God for how long we've had him, and yet I sit here blubbering like a baby, the sobs coming in waves and the tears flowing anew after I thought they'd stopped. Me, the strong one, the non-emotional rock....I'm a mess. So please, pray for my mom-by-choice. This is so hard for her, and her health is not good. Pray that her emotional and physical strength will be supernatural, provided by God, to sustain her through what we know is coming. Pray for their children, my brothers & sisters - by-choice, who are losing their dad just like I am, whose children are losing their Papa just like mine are. I don't know how quickly the next blow will come, so my prayer is that God gives us sustenance to handle them all, one at a time. Thank you, friends, for listening and for praying. So many of you are hurting, and yet you still take time to read my ramblings and pray for my family. You are treasures, each of you, and I am thankful for every single person who sends up a prayer for us. Those of you who know my precious children, please say a special prayer for them and give them a hug when you see them. We love him so very, very much.

Smashing stereotypes

Black people love fried chicken and kool-aid.
Asians are smarter than the rest of us.
Christians hate gays & are staunch pro-lifers.
Men are bad drivers.
Women are bad drivers.
(Maybe we're all bad drivers?)
Women are emotionally fragile.
All babies are cute.
Men never ask for directions.
People with multiple tattoos are rebellious law-breakers.
Men who wear skinny jeans are gay.
Anyone who dresses in all black and wears eyeliner is a cutter.
People who homeschool their kids are weird religious nuts.
Aforementioned religious nuts are pushy and judgemental.
People who make their own laundry soap are tree-hugging environmentalist hippies.
Wrestling fans are rednecks.
New Yorkers are rude & fashionable.
Texans love country music.
People who live in California are gay-loving, tan, bikini-clad, liberal surfers.

Do I need to go on? Chances are you've heard, and maybe even believe, at least one of those statements. The truth is, however, that stereotypes are not reliable. Cory and I homeschool our kids, make our own laundry detergent, get excited about Crock-Pot recipes, and are undeniably weird Jesus freaks, and yet I have purple hair, he has earrings & tattoos, we're both pro-choice Democrats, I'm a great driver, and we both work full-time outside the home. See how many stereotypes we break? In the homeschool community, we're prey to judgment because we both have full-time jobs outside the home. In the public school community, we're the weirdos who let our kids watch TV and call it learning. In the Christian community, we support murder because we're pro-choice. As Oklahomans, we're practically outcasts for disliking country music. ;-)

In short, when you put all the pieces of our unique puzzle together, the image is not what you would expect - and I would be willing to bet yours isn't either. We are MORE than the sum of our parts. We are MORE than stereotypes, MORE than others expect us to be, immeasurably MORE than we could ever imagine becoming. We are smashing stereotypes not with hatred, or political lobbying, or rambling, angry facebook rants, but with everyday, authentic life. We strive to be true to ourselves, faithful to God, loving to others, and strong in our values. It's not the loudest or most attention-getting way to make a statement, but I'm ok with that. When my short time here on earth is over, I want people to remember that I loved deeply, lived authentically, and had an undeniable faith in God. Well, and maybe that I was a great driver....