Fairy Tales Are Real. Just Not In The Way We Think They Are.

Recently, I read these quotes from an anonymous source....

“Why have fairly tails if that kind of love doesn't exist.”
 
“Fairy tales don't exist. So why give every girl the vision that someday their Prince Charming will be there. All it does is make you more disappointed in life”


DISCLAIMER: I am guilty of pretty much all of what I'm about to describe here. I am human and not excluded from any of it.

Are these statements something all women think from time to time?

You betcha.

Are Fairy Tales meant to reflect our real life?

Nope.

I happen to agree with most of what the point of these status’ say. As a matter of fact, I was considering writing something quite funny for our next Expressing Motherhood show concerning Disney and the princesses they’ve shoved down my throat and the ideas of a ‘happily ever after’ that we’re not guaranteed.
I’ll say that again. We are not promised a ‘happily ever after.’ 

But, you know what else I’m going to say? 

I’m the princess in that story and I play a part too. Period. ‘We all fall short.’ Sometimes we fall so short, that while we’re lightheartedly skipping through the forest, one of our princess heels breaks off and we’ve fallen flat on our princess faces, bleeding, bruised and practically naked. The princess crown is smashed to pieces, the horse ran off with all of our berries we just picked, the servant has quit and we’re still standing firm on the foundation that it’s everyone else's fault.

It’s somebody else’s fault that we’re not happy.

It couldn’t possibly be our own internal self, the effects of traumas in our childhoods, the circumstances that life has brought like death or the demons that trap us in addictions, ours, or Prince Charming’s. Do each of us have something? yes. I’m not claiming any of these to be mine, but they might be...and they might be yours too.

We might not even have a single one of them, but still blame someone else...anyone else...for the unhappiness we feel in our lives, in our relationships with others, in our workplace, in our parenting...in our marriage.


Every character on that page, every person involved plays a part, and that includes me...the ‘princess’ in that story.

Does life bring huge disappointment?
Oh, dear...the YES I have to shout on that one cannot possibly be heard over the internet.

Are we guaranteed happiness? Not. At. All.

This was the response I found to this quote:
“... if this is a reflection of your life, then I am truly sorry because you are awesome and deserve better.”

To this I say, THANK YOU GOD FOR NOT GIVING US WHAT WE DESERVE!

I will shout that on the mountaintop. If we were all given what we deserve, we’d basically be dead and rotting somewhere. For all of the nasty words that come out of our mouths, or the thoughts, or the hurtful actions we display to our children, our husbands or wives or the lies we tell, or the blame we place...
I could go on and on, but I won’t. I don’t think I need to. ‘We all fall short’ and to blame others or a Fairy Tale for our letdowns in life is sad.

It’s clear to me that these statements are coming from a place of pure hurt, sorrow and sadness. A place of disappointment and despair...

"Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.." (John 8:7)

Here’s where I am going to go Biblical. Because the Bible addresses this clearly.

God does not promise us material happiness in our lives, but He does promise us spiritual happiness for those who follow Him.

Jesus says “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world“ (John 16:33).

God, not once, ever, promised us an easy life, a happy life, a life without suffering and trials and pain, or a marriage without any of that as well.

It just simply isn’t ever going to be true.

Even the happiest of marriages will go through major trials. Believers in Christ are no less susceptible to these hardships than anyone else. We’re just promised a hand to hold while going through it all. We’re promised a maker that will take the pain for us in stride and who will fight our battles for us when we place full trust in His work.

And guess what... sometimes that work, is for us, not Prince Charming. Prince Charming has his own things to work on. He’s a mess too. And when the princess and Charming are both working on themselves and not pointing fingers, maybe we’ll be closer to a few words in that Tale.

Another response to these quotes I found was this...

“well.... some people really do have a prince charming.... I do and he rescued me when I needed it most. I know that was more of faith and the Lord than a fairy tale though lol”

We need to stop placing blame on others and Fairy Tales. We all know they are stories. They might even be stories made for us to escape the hardships of real life every once in a while.


And I bet... I just bet, that if we examined our lives and the blessings we’ve been filled with, instead of the things we don’t have and think we deserve, we might be one page closer to living the Tale that we were created to live.

My Mother's Youngest Sister

There are some big events that happened in 1994.

Nancy Harrigan was clubbed in the back of the knee by Tonya Harding.
There was a disastrous earthquake in Los Angeles, not far at all from where I live now.
There was a civil war in Rowanda, killing 500,000.
Major League Baseball players went on strike, leading to no World Series.
Jackie Kennedy Onassis was laid to rest next to President John F. Kennedy.
Kurt Cobain committed suicide, which affected more of my friends than myself.
Micheal Jackson married Lisa Marie Presley.
Tiger Woods won the masters at 18 breaking a couple of records.
Friends debuted on T.V.
The North American Free Trade Agreement was signed.
There was a crazy ice storm that froze a lot of the country.
Susan Smith drown her two sons.
President Nixon died.
And, who could ever forget that O.J. Simpson murdered was accused of murdering two people and led police on a memorable freeway chase.

A lot more happened in 1994, you can Google it yourself, but one event I will never forget, happened much closer to home.

Brenda, from this past summer

My Aunt Brenda...my mom's youngest sister, after having just dropped off her youngest two children, ages 3 and 5 months, to childcare, was on her way to work when her minivan slipped on hidden ice and slush and went directly into the path of a semi truck traveling on Central Avenue in Toledo, Ohio.

They collided head on.

I was 15 and was on Spring Break in Florida with a group of softball and baseball players from my High School when my mom reached me in the hotel. I sat behind the sofa looking out on to the ocean as she told me her sister had been in a terrible car accident and was in very, very bad shape.

When I got home from Florida, I went immediately to the hospital with my mother. Brenda was nearly unrecognizable. She is such a small woman, to think she had survived such a crash...well, it seemed impossible. She had just given birth five months prior to that, I can't help but think that maybe her body was still a little soft and pliable or maybe she had way too much to live for and not surviving wasn't an option.

Brenda, returning the love to my mom when she needed it.

I sat in the corner of the room and watched my mother stroke her hair and hold her hand, much like she'd always done for me when I was sick. As an adult now, I can barely stand the thought of what kind of pain my mom must have felt walking into that room.

Oh, to get that phone call.

Brenda's hair was shaved and she had staples holding her head back together. She had bruises and lacerations everywhere. She had a broken right wrist, a pelvis broken in three places, a broken right ankle and two collapsed lungs, which explained why she was beating at her chest as they brought her in to the E.R.

Melissa, Brenda's daughter who was also 15 at the time, said the emergency team was asking her to write down what she was trying to say, because talking was not an available means of communication for her...
she wrote down "can't breathe."

Brenda, an amazing woodworking artist has a hard time creating and longs to get back to it regularly.

That day in the hospital, I watched my mom try to talk with her. Brenda, being right handed, had to scribble with her left hand on a dry erase board. It was a basic Y for yes, and N for no.

I didn't say much. I just watched.

Brenda was forever changed from that accident. How could you not be? Physically and mentally, she was changed. She has spent the past 20 years in various forms of intense pain, constipation and lack of sleep. She's tried pain medicine, and all make her so sick, she'd rather live with the ailments. She's managed to raise Melissa to the brilliant young mother and wife she is, as well as that 3 year old and 5 month old, whom are now almost 23 and 20. She's survived the death of her father, her husband and the father of her children, the death of my mother, her sister and friend... and most recently, the death of her own mother.

Brenda..beautiful. She had a hard time standing for these pictures.

Here we are, nearly 20 years later and the effects of that accident still play a strong role in Brenda's life. 4 years ago, Brenda starting getting worse physically. The unexplained pain started to intensify, leaving her unable to move at times. I say unexplained because that is what her physician at The Fulton County Health center in Wauseon, Ohio has called it. And, rightfully so...because he's always been unable to give her answers. 

But it's there. The pain.

Dr. Uribes has consistently dismissed Brenda's pain as simply, "unexplained." She's been at the doctor several times seeking help only to be told that her anxiety must be the culprit. It's mental.

A year ago, Melissa took Brenda to the Emergency Room twice due to the fact that Brenda could not stand, she could not speak... she couldn't move.

It was then, that someone found it. Brenda had emergency surgery to repair a six inch hole in her diaphragm. They found a herniated diaphragm along with about 8 inches of intestines floating up between her lungs and ribs.

No wonder.

The Last Supper. All hand carved, drawn and painted by Brenda

And it only took 20 years to find. This was the result from an injury sustained in the accident so long ago. I was told also that Brenda has bone fragments floating around her body from that accident. Another recent discovery. If you can't hear my sarcasm in that, please allow me to tell you, it's sarcastic. These bone fragments would be nearly impossible to remove, and are more than likely hitting nerves and causing random pain.

Yet, her doctor has always told her he doesn't see why she isn't working and due to this, she's been denied the disability she absolutely needs to survive.

There are so many people who take advantage of this privilege reserved for those who truly need it. Brenda, is not one of those people.

Brenda has been unable to work since June. She has no health insurance and no income.
And as of this month, has been denied again for disability and still needs medical care. 

This is where the family is stepping in, while waiting for our health care system to do their part.
Because, right now, they are failing.

She creates mostly Western and Native American inspired art.

Thursday, November 21st, friends and family are hosting a very secretive fundraiser for Brenda in Deerfield, Michigan. She doesn't know about it, and she's not invited.

Brenda just so happens to be one of those people who have a hard time taking gifts..she'd much rather give. She's very good at it, too.

But, now, it's time for her to receive.

If you are in the area and would like to attend this event, email her daughter, Melissa Hudik.. HERE. 

If you would like to make a donation to help Brenda, 

please send cash or check made payable to Melissa Hudik to:

Melissa Hudik

P.O. Box 3891

Burbank, CA 91504

Brenda might be a complete stranger...but blessings are what she needs right now.

Another Woman I Know Lost To Breast Cancer

Patricia Helle    January 11, 1953 - June 30, 2013

Once I got to Michigan yesterday and settled in just for a few minutes, I checked my messages.

Another woman I knew, lost her battle on Saturday. Her daughter, June (pictured right) is a dear friend of mine and was my "BFF" for several years in Elementary School.

Her mother lost her battle with breast cancer this past weekend. I spent a lot of time with Patti as a child...see previous mention of June being my BFF.

Patti was kind, generous, loving and like most mothers I know, very, very strong. The last time I saw her was last summer's Rose Run, where I did the run in support of her.

This year it will be in her honor and memory....added to the growing list of women I know who have not made it, for whatever reason.

God has his hand on Patti's family, that I'm certain of. Patti doesnt need our prayers any longer, I am certain of that as well. She is in the arms of the Father, resting easy, feeling more love than we can imagine.

June and her family need our prayers. This, I am also certain of. Because I know what it's like to truly understand the end is coming for your mother...you can see it, you can taste it, you can feel it.

It comes.

And, for a brief moment, there is relief. Almost joy in the lack of suffering you see in the woman you so dearly treasure. You are happy for her...almost. You are selfishly happy for yourself, that you dont have to see it any longer...for a few moments, anyway. Her process has ended.

But for you, it only begins.

The process begins.

I thought I would share the first post from after my mother died. I remember waking up heavy, for several days. The memorial was fast...and easy. The funeral, made things slow down, not so easy...and life after her death, seemed to come to a halt.

Life moved on around me, like I was God's puppet He graciously kept moving so I wouldn't fall apart. Because He knew I would, if He wasn't in control.

So, today, I will attend a showing and tomorrow, a funeral.

But on July 20th...I will help host another Rose Run....to continue the fight. We are raising our weapons and charging through the battle lines to defeat the enemy, someday.

It will be defeated.

My weapons are drawn.



Feeling Heavy 1/30/09

Every morning since my mother’s passing, I’ve woken up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. A big truck. My body aches, my heart races and my heart is sore. My eyes are heavy and not even from tears, because I believe many tears have yet to come. I have been shedding many tears for a long time now. I’ve spent so much time with mom and have seen the end coming closer quick. Just not this quick. The events from the past week are an absolute blur. I swear to myself that I’m still sleeping and although logically, I have a complete understanding of what has happened, emotionally, I’m still. How can I have such disbelief that my mom is gone, but still know that she is.

Yesterday, for three seconds, I forgot. I picked up the phone to call her. When I remembered, I cried. Briefly. My tears were interrupted by a little boy asking for my help with something. He couldn’t fit two blocks together, so I sat and showed him how. Then I smiled. What a blessing these two babies are. Again, I do understand that death is a part of life, I really do understand that. But, at 30 years young, I cant seem to wrap my head around loosing my mother this week. It might take me another 30 to be ok. I’m not sure. Only time will tell.

Genesis Is The Beginning Of Something Good

Click HERE for Info

“Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food.  If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?” - James 2:15-16


I’m am oftentimes unsure why God has given me the blessings I have. Completely unsure...
and humbled.

The World would tell me it’s because I’ve worked hard and am ambitious, have talent, a little bit of luck and deserve what I have. And if I wanted to go with the Worldly description, that would be a suitable answer.

But I don’t.

I truly believe that God has placed me right where I am to do work for Him, whether it be in my marriage, for my children, for a perfect stranger, in my projects and most importantly on myself. I am the one that needs the most work and I see it at least twice a day. At least.

I would like to say, it’s by no coincidence that I met Jill Campbell. Jill is one of those women whom, after 5 minutes with, you feel completely inspired by. She’s a doer. And when Jill asked me to be part of a planning committee for an event happening June 22nd here in Southern California, I said yes, enthusiastically, without really even knowing what she was asking me to do. Walking away from that agreement, however, I was thinking “oh, my husband is going to kill me...one more thing.” But The Genesis House is not really just one more thing.

I now have a clear picture of what it is God has placed me in the middle of and I’m in. He knows me and He knows my heart. He has given me such a desire to help where there is a need, and here, there is a need.

 Next to the commandment to love God with all your heart, soul and mind is the commandment to love others as yourself..to love your neighbor. Yes..others come first. God, others...then you.

I know from experience, when I put my needs above the needs of those around me, all will fail. Now, this doesn't mean you don't put your oxygen mask on first, that’s a no brainer. But I will tell you right now, I have all the oxygen I need...so, on to helping others.

Hope Of The Valley Rescue Mission is a shelter/service center here in SoCal that was actually co-founded by Jill Campbell. Jill was also the one to start the shower mission...she’s got a couple of horse trailers set up as showers that are towed around the valley to scheduled church parking lots where the homeless can come shower..they are given clean socks, underwear and towels.

There are 7000 homeless people in the Valley alone. Yes, the valley I live in. 41% of these people are families. Nearly half. And of those 41%, the majority of them are single mothers and their children. Mothers and children.

Genesis House Under Construction

1 in 50 children in the United States is homeless. Yes, that would be a child without a home.

HOTV has also started a new project, which is the one I’m involved in, called The Genesis House.

 Genesis House, living up to it’s name, will be a new beginning. It is a 12 bedroom, 6 bathroom house that will allow 10 homeless single women and their children (approximately 20) to have a bedroom, a bathroom, a communal kitchen, a computer room, a play area....a home.

The program will be a 4 month program to help these women live in safety and peace while learning essential life skills to help them make the transition from homelessness to a life of hope. The goal is to help these families find permanent housing and leave Genesis House with the skills to keep moving forward. The women apply to be in this program and based on their current needs, will get chosen. This really will be a new beginning for 10 women at a time.

I am truly, truly honored to be helping with this project. As a mother myself, I cannot even wrap my mind around what some of the mothers out there are going through right now. The women coming in to this program, hopefully set to start in July, are currently living in their cars with their kids or are going from shelter to shelter at night.

A kitchen getting ready to serve 30 people

My blessings are bountiful. The love for Christ is a powerful blessing. The power He has to change situations like this... unmatched. And part of my responsibility with knowing that, is to share it. It would be a shame to keep it all to myself. Through Christ I work, as long as He’ll have me.

If you would like to help, there are several ways.

First of all, you can get a ticket and join us on June 22nd at the Beverly Garland Hotel in North Hollywood.

Secondly, you can make on online donation directly to Genesis House at www.HopeOfTheValley.org

Also, you can bring donations of clothes, shoes, toys, small furniture, books, etc. this Saturday at Romancing The Bean in Burbank from 2-5. These women and children will need gently used clothes, shoes and toys. They will have little to nothing with them coming in. The kids will be ages birth to 12 years old.

I hope that if you’re in the SoCal area, you would join us Saturday, June 22nd!

Here is a dear friend of mine, V Reyes...she's a faith based singer/songwriter who is quite amazing. I recommend "Broken" at 3:46 in this video.

Christianity Today's Article On Child Sponsorship....Leads To Compassion

 Last week, I grabbed the mail off the front porch and waited a day to look through it due to the nature of our busy life. When I finally did, I was excited to see the newest issue of Christianity Today had arrived.

The cover story was about child sponsorship...and if it really does work.

My stomach dropped. The cover read: “The Surprising News About The Photo Hanging On Your Refrigerator. Does Child Sponsorship Work? A Top Economist answers.”

Well, apparently, I’m not the only one who wonders what good our $38 a month really does to our child in El Salvador.

We sponsor a child through Compassion International. What I truly love about Compassion is that they put it out there, even in their slogan, that it’s all done “In Jesus’ Name.”

But, this cover, even before opening the plastic surrounding it, had me worried.

That night, the second I got the kids to bed, I grabbed my magazine and sat down to read the article I had been thinking about all day.

Top economist, Bruce Wydick, says that he would use the same answer when asked “what could someone like me do to help the poor.” His reply was always, “Perhaps, sponsor a child?” But, he began to wonder if that really was the answer.

He found that despite “9 million children worldwide and more than $5 billion per year channeled into sponsorship,” no one had ever investigated the topic.

So, he, and a small team, decided to go there.

Compassion International was the only major organization willing to let their “program be scrutinized.” This gave me relief immediately...although the data of the study I had yet to read.

The first part of this research was done by two doctoral students of his from The University of Washington. They spent the summer of 2008 in Uganda obtaining data on 809 individuals, including 188 who had been sponsored as children.

The students brought back the data from their summer study and Mr. Wydick says “it was incapable of showing anything other than extremely large and statistically significant impacts on educational outcomes for sponsored children.”

They approached Compassion again to see how they felt about “trusting a bunch of San Francisco academics with the public credibility of his organization.”

The other child sponsorship organizations were not interested in having a study done.
I’ll be honest when I tell you, reading this gave me great comfort in Compassion.

The study continued in Uganda, Guatemala, The Philippines, India, Kenya and Bolivia. Money was sought after for the research project, and obviously they got it.

The results of this study are absolutely amazing.

“Sponsorship makes children 27 to 40 percent more likely to complete secondary school and 50-80 percent more likely to complete a university education. ....To put it simply, the educational impacts of sponsorship are large -roughly equal to the substantial effects of the Rosenwald Schools program that from 1913-31 educated blacks in the Jim Crow South.”

You MUST read this article. It gets better.

“We found that child sponsorship means that when the child grows up, his is 14-18 percent more likely to obtain a salaried job, and 35 percent more likely to obtain a white-collar job.”

The author of this article had the opportunity to present this information to Compassion’s team in Colorado. He gladly accepted. When he met Wes Stafford, then president of Compassion, he said “your program works.” 
Mr. Stafford replied, “I know.”

This is the amazing part...really, quite amazing.

When Mr. Wydick said to Mr. Stafford, “We’re not just finding positive correlations, but substantial casual effects from the program, in every country, especially Africa. I’m wondering what is happening here,’ Mr. Stafford said, “Try hope.”

“Hope?”

In part of his reply, Mr. Stafford says “...You see, poverty causes children to have very low self-esteem, low aspirations. The big difference that sponsorship makes is that it expands children’s views about their own possibilities. Many children don’t think they are capable of much. We help them realize that they are each given special gifts from God to benefit their communities, and we try to help them develop aspirations for their future.”

This is where the Hope Hypothesis started. More studies were done to test the “hope” that Mr. Stafford spoke of. They did more studies with the children using drawings and how they see themselves. Again, the results are amazing.

Letters from our Bryan in El Salvador

“..the patient nurturing of self-worth, self-expectations, dreams and aspirations may be a critical part of helping children escape poverty. It is a holistic approach that secular antipoverty initiative shave largely downplayed, but an approach that Christian development groups have championed for decades.”

Hope. It gives children Hope, and that’s all it takes.

“The child development approach advocated by Compassion appears to get under the hood of human beings to instill aspirations, character formation and spiritual direction. In short, it trains people to be givers instead of receivers.”

I’m going to state my opinion here that Compassion is doing exactly what Christ teaches, and I am proud to have my family part of this larger picture.

To read the entire article, CLICK HERE.......

My First Mother's Day Without My Mother

This mug with moms words (and coffee) get me up every morning

Isaiah 43:2
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you."

Matthew 5:4
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

2 Corinthians 1:3-4
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."






Mother's Day is approaching and a dear friend of mine has recently lost her mother.

I know exactly what she is going through.

I thought I'd share this post from April 27th, 2009.




Dear Mom, 4/27/09

I was in the grocery store a week ago and as I was shopping for fruits and veggies, I came face to face with a display full of beautiful cards and wrapping paper embellished in various flower patterns. The header on the display read “Mother’s Day. May 10th. Don’t forget Mom.” It felt like one of those hideous rolls of patterned wrapping paper came shooting out at me and stabbed me in my chest. It went in so deep, that I didn’t think anything could hurt worse than that. Not even having a baby. Thank You Hallmark. As if I wasn’t having a hard enough time. What, they couldn’t wait until next year to remind me that I’ll have one less card to buy? I wanted to take that wrapping paper and unroll it, use it for a blanket and cry myself to sleep under the bananas. Of course I couldn’t, because the last thing I need is to be hauled off to jail for biting anyone who came close enough to ask me if I was ok.

I am not ok Mom.
 
I don’t even know what to say to people who ask me how I’m doing. Should I say, “Well, today, I didn’t want to get out of bed. Yesterday, I screamed at my children for no good reason other than it felt good to yell and the day before that, I cried myself through an entire roll of toilet paper.”

No, I usually say. “Oh… I’m ok.” And then change the subject. The only reason I don’t say. “I’m doing fine,” is because I know everyone expects me not to be ok, so saving them the drama of how I’m really doing, I satisfy their need to help by drawing out my answer questionably.

I’m still going to church every Sunday Mom. Really, the only reason is that I feel better leaving than I do when I get there. I guess it’s kind of like exercising where, sometimes I just don’t want to run, but I always feel better after I do. Last Sunday in church, Pastor talked about “Quiet Times.” He said that it was important for us to have our own quiet time with God to talk and to be still and listen. I immediately thought of hiking and going to the highest place I could to sit quietly and pray. The next morning, I woke up at 5:45am, hopped in the car and drove 3 minutes to a local canyon for a little quiet time with God. I swear I thought I was going to have some breakthrough, some reconnection with my Christianity that I’ve been searching for. It wasn’t quite the experience I had though.

As I parked and got out of the car, the sun was just starting to get up. I had a backpack with me with water and my driver’s license in case I ended up being eaten by a Mountain Lion. (So people would know who I was.) I also had my camera around my neck because, frankly, I don’t go many places without it.  As I started to walk up the hill, I could hear animals running from me in the brush. Lizards, bunnies, squirrels, birds, etc. I headed up the hill and realized that I was scared. Very scared. What was I doing?! I’m alone on a hike with wild animals in Southern California. I picked up a really big rock with a sharp edge and held it in my right hand, and shook my keys in my left hand. (So I didn’t startle a coyote or anything else that would feel the need to attack).

Two separate times, I turned back.  But then decided I had come this far, it would be silly to turn around, so I continued up the mountain. I was snapping pictures, talking out loud, and shuffling my feet to make noise and asking the Lord to put it in my heart if this was the wrong thing to do. I would hate for my last words to be “God told me not to do it, but I did it anyway.”

After 30 minutes, I made it to the top, and boy am I glad I didn’t give up. It was brilliant. You would have loved it Mom. It was so beautiful. I always forget how beautiful a city can be if you step back and look from a distance. I sat on a bench and spoke a little to God.
It felt forced, but I did it anyway. I talked to you too. Did you hear me?

I couldn’t stay there long, because I knew the kids would be up soon and Don is not exactly a morning person, so I always try to make it back before anyone gets up. I didn’t have much time to sit and talk or even just be still and listen, but as I left to go back down the hill, I turned around as if God were sitting there and said, “My heart’s open Lord. Talk to me.”

I ran down the hill, shaking the keys the entire time and slowed down when I saw two young women walking up with a big dog. I knew people were showing up and I’d be ok if a Mountain Lion jumped out because someone would be able to hear my scream now.

The only thing I got out of that walk was the urge to go see little Jeff. So, I bought tickets for the kids and I, and we surprised him. He was so shocked Mom! You should have seen his face. It was awesome. It was so wonderful to just be around him, around my family. I miss everyone so much Mom. But, I miss you more than them. I wanted to call and tell you about the trip, about what we did, about how Jeff is doing because you always ask me for an honest answer. I know how he doctored things up for you, as to not worry you. If you’re wondering, he’s doing ok. But, ok isn’t the same ok as it used to be.

So, there it is Mom. We’re all swimming to stay above the water. That’s all we can do. I’m not sure what tomorrow brings, but hopefully it will be better than today.


I love you and miss you more than any of my tiny words can express.

Love,

Jessie

There Is Life In The Blood

We could always tell when my mother needed a blood transfusion. Closer to the end of her life, a good indicator of what was going on inside of her was evident by the blood. Platelet counts and white blood cell numbers were something I was paying close attention to. When she would start to feel worse, more tired and flat out sick, we all knew a transfusion would make her feel better.

And it did.


At that time, I was recording everything...how she felt, what she looked like and what she did. I remember going to the hospital with her on one particular day for a blood transfusion and getting to spend over 5 hours with her while it happened. I bought gifts for my children in the gift shop, I sat out in the lobby talking (and crying) to friends on the phone while she slept and I got to sit right next to her with my feet up on the bed and just watch her.

I brought my camera that day and asked her questions about getting a transfusion. She was fascinated with blood donors.

“When I lie there and look at that bag of blood, all I can wonder is, who’s blood is it? Is it a tall person or short? Is she a black woman or is he a hispanic man? Are they an angel? They must be, to give me their blood.” She said.

 An angel, yes indeed. The blood she would receive would give her breath, give her energy and fill her with life.


 There is life in the blood.





The Passion Week is here. This is a week I have a lot of trouble with every year. For any Christ follower, I suspect it’s difficult as much as it is comforting and humbling and amazing. My emotions surrounding the events that took place to kill Jesus are so very complicated. I can barely speak of them, let alone watch them (Cue anxiety for Sunday’s finale here History Channel).

In 2004, when Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion Of The Christ, was released, I ran to the theatre excited to see it. When the movie was over, I couldn't move. I was trembling at the reality of an inhumane slaughter of an innocent man, and not just any man. I cried over the destruction inflicted upon Him, it was no standard crucifixion, if there is such a thing.

The Passion Of The Christ

I haven't watched it again since. There is no need, the images are forever ingrained.

The blood shed was reprehensible.

But there is life in that blood.

This week is difficult to understand. Jesus himself, wondered if there were any other way, asking God to remove this cup from him, but only if it were in His will. Jesus confessed that the “spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” (Mark 14:38).

The bloodshed was necessary. The crucifixion was necessary and The Resurrection was the plan.

The Bible is clear that living a “good life” is not enough. Romans 3:23 tells us that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” If I based my salvation on my own merit, I wouldn't even make it to the gates to beg for the chance to grovel at the feet of The Lord.

“There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which me must be saved.” Acts 4:12.

“God demonstrated His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Romans 5:8.

I cannot begin to explain everything to anyone who asks...because I simply do not have the understanding of it all or all of the answers to satisfy.




What I do know, however, is that there is life in the blood.

Rock, Paper, Scissors, Jesus

myapokalips.com

Several months ago, while driving my wee ones to school, I heard Shelby and Hayden in the backseat playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. I’ve heard everything thrown into that game. My son likes to use laser, and point his finger straight like a sword. I’m not sure what laser conquers, but it seems to work for them. I’ve heard them also use “bomb.” I’m assuming a bomb would defeat all of the other three, hands down.

Unless of course, the paper had instructions on how to defuse a bomb.


I never ask, because it’s hilarious watching them make up their own rules to the game. But, recently, a tool was thrown in that made me laugh out loud.

Jesus.

I had suddenly heard.. “Rock, Paper, Scissors....JESUS!” Shelby laughed as she had made the sign of Jesus by placing her arms straight out, good ol’ crucifixion style.

I didnt just laugh, I think I nearly wet myself. I listened and watched as my children then refused to use any other tool. Both of them were shouting...

“Rock, Paper, Scissors, Jesus!
Rock, Paper, Scissors, Jesus!
Rock, Paper, Scissors, Jesus!”

“Hey Guys,” I said, “One of you is going to have to use something other than Jesus if you want to continue playing the game.”

“But Mom, Jesus will always win. If I use anything else, I’ll lose.” Shelby said, still laughing while playing the game.

I let them continue without interruption because the reality of what she just said is something I would never want to take away from her.


I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me. - Philippians 4:13

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” - Isaiah 40:31

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble -Psalm 46:1

In a simple game in the back of the van, my children were shouting to each other how mighty and strong God is.

Nothing trumps Jesus.

An Email Even Better Than The Call!

I sent a link of my previous post to "James" yesterday. Here's the email I received today:

Jessica,
Thanks for sending me the blog.  Very nice and

it was touching.

About 3 months ago I saw the PBS special on the

Dust Bowl--it was during the time I was born.  Not

only the Dust Bowl, but the Depression was in full

bloom.  I realized at the time that the real heroes of

that time were the mothers who were single and had

to raise their children alone.

My mother was divorced when I was 4 years old.

Imagine what it must have been like.  She worked for

the Bell Telephone Co, who paid extremely low wages.

I never really appreciated how she did it.  She  also

convinced me to go back and finish high school.

When I got home after WWII I bought a bike and worked for

a year--She got me to sell the bike and finish high

school and apply for the GI Bill.  I don't  think children really

appreciate what parents do for them until they get

older and have children of their own. I do know that she must

have been extremely apprehensive all the time I was in the

war.

The one thing I regret is that I never took the time to tell her how

much I appreciated her. She died at 84.

I again thank you.

"James"

A Really Great Phone Call

Yesterday, I decided to make chicken noodle soup for dinner and I never make that soup without making my grandmother’s homemade noodles.

It makes all the difference.

Making noodles is a messy job, and while I was in the middle of it, the house phone rang. The house phone is a line we NEVER answer. I mean it, never. It seems to be a magnet for telemarketers so we know that anyone who needs to talk to us calls our cell phones. The house phone is basically there for emergencies.

While covered in flour, rolling out dough and stopping my 2 year old from sprinkling the house plants with powder, my husband decided he was going to answer that phone. I heard him talking and asking questions about who it was and then I hear:


“Oh cool.Yes! She’s right here.” and he handed the phone to me. 

I mouthed out the words “Who is it?” and my husband told me it was someone about the Laffey.

My Grandfather, 17 years old.

In case you don't know, I made a documentary a few years back about my grandfathers ship in WWII, The USS Laffey. The small destroyer survived a Kamikaze attack near Okinawa that should have sank the ship.

But, it didn’t.

My grandfather survived and because of that, I’m able to sit here right now, drinking my coffee and share this story. 

I put the phone to my ear and said “Hello?”

The man on the other end was a survivor of that day in April 16th, 1945.  A friend of his, who had heard about the documentary, found out he was on the Laffey and ordered him a copy. He watched it and was so thankful, he had to call me in person.

It took him a year to get a hold of me. Yes, you read that right, a year. 

Because we never answer that phone.

With my flour covered apron on, noodles half rolled out and the kitchen table covered in flour and dough, I simply walked out of the room with the phone to my ear. I went to the office and sat down with pen and paper and wrote down everything I could from our conversation.

My husband did a a great job keeping the little ones away from me while I talked on the phone. As hungry as they all were, they waited patiently...or at least as patient as a 7, 5 and 2 year old can wait.
I’m going to call this man James. It’s not his real name, but when I told him I wanted to write about this conversation, he politely asked me to not give him any notoriety and keep him out of it....so I will.

James is originally from Texas and was 16 when he quit High School to enlist in the Navy. Young, yes, but his mother signed the papers for him.

“Back in my day, we were all very patriotic. It was a different time. We were all ready to go.” he explained through a smile I could hear.

Take a good look at the 16 year old boys around you and imagine them enlisting to go to war. Mothers, would you be signing for your 16 year old to enlist?
James is right...it’s a different time.

He said he took a train from Texas to San Diego, California for what little basic training they could give him before they sent him to war....and send him to war, they did. He had just turned 17, barely finished basic training and was sent to The Laffey.

James could tell me his location on the ship and he knows he didn't get hurt, but other than that, his memory doesn't go much farther. He said that he knew he turned it all off when he left The Laffey in Seattle, due to the things he saw.

He remembers that.

The USS Laffey at Patriot's Point today


He married several years after departing and never even told his wife he was in WWII. They had a daughter and it was only after James and his wife divorced and he shared some with his adult daughter, that his first wife ever found out anything about The Laffey.

I know this to be true about a lot of WWII vets...what they witnessed was terrible. My own grandfather, telling me the story 60 years later, brought him to tears. My own grandfather didn’t give his family the details because of what he saw. My own grandfather was also 17, fighting in a war where he saw his own friend “burned to a crisp,” beyond recognition.

My grandfather survived....as did James.

By the grace of God, the complete miracle of protection with loving hands, the ship survived and generations went on. I’m one of them.

James stayed in the reserves after he got out. He finished High School and was two years into college before he was called back. He proudly served in the Korean War as well. After leaving the military, he spent 30 years working for the government and retired. He’s spent the last 23 years in the mountains and living alone. He said it’s been the happiest time of his life, being away from busy life.

I am so thankful my husband answered that phone. I thanked him repeatedly. Not only that, but when I hung up with James and came into the kitchen, the noodles were done! My husband and my son finished rolling them out and cut them all up by hand.

And the generations continue.

Saying Goodbye

Dana and her three children

I attended a friends funeral yesterday.

It was beautiful.

As beautiful as funerals can be, I suppose.

Dana Bell was a woman I met a couple of years ago, and her impact was huge on me. She performed in the stage show I produce, Expressing Motherhood and shared her story of single motherhood to three children. As if that weren't hard enough, she had also been living with Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer. And for those of you who know me and my personal experience with breast cancer, you’d understand why I sat in the corner of the room sobbing as I watched her in rehearsal that January.

She survived the cancer for two years after that time. She passed away on January 27, 2013.

She was 42 years old. The same age my mother was the first time she was diagnosed.

Oh boy. My heart is a little heavy today.

What I can tell you is that her service yesterday was amazing in so very many ways. It was extremely full and I thought it may just end up being a standing room only kind of deal. Always a testament to what a single person means to so many.

I am heavily comforted to know that Dana had a faith in God and knew she was going to heaven to be reunited with loved ones, including her father. 

Dana was a remarkable woman with a great sense of humor, She had long legs and loved high heels...as proven by her brave performance in the show wearing wig, prosthetic breast and shoes that would make Carrie Bradshaw sigh.

As expected, I had a very emotional time at this funeral. I feel for her children, her family and friends who all watched helplessly. I know that feeling.

Helplessness.

But, then...an amazing moment.

Dana’s sister, Lena, gave a eulogy that made me devour a handful of Kleenex with my eyes. Lena said that Dana had a favorite mug that she used every day and that the mug had the words:


“Be happy. Be a family. That’s it.”  on it.

I looked at the friend sitting next to me and I lost it. The power of my mothers words on the mug I gave Dana two years ago probably helped her through some really tough times. My mother’s words meant something to another woman fighting breast cancer.

The same mug assisting me through my BSF this morning.

I didnt have words then for how I felt, and I honestly dont have words now.
At the end of her service a song was played for us to listen to.

Per Dana’s request.

This is the song below, it’s called The Family Tree by Venice. I had never heard it before, but all I will say is grab a tissue.

But before you do that...grab your loved ones. Tight.

Witnessing Awesome Moments

Two nights ago, while sitting at the dining room table, my brother Jeff texted me and said “On our way to the airport!” Then it really hit me...

My little brother is getting married.

MY LITTLE BROTHER IS GETTING MAAAAARRRIEEED! *squeal*

My heart skipped a beat for what’s about to happen this weekend and tears came to my eyes quicker than than my mind could register why I was suddenly leaking. My life is so busy, I hadnt really connected with it. Until that moment, this event was just a series of words I was telling everyone for the past year.

Words no longer. The wedding is in 3 days.

I woke up the next morning and checked Facebook to see any updates from my soon to be sister-in-law (knowing my brother would not do it) on where in the U.S. they were. You see, it's a destination wedding and we’re all headed to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. They were headed out before anyone else.

When I opened her Facebook page, the picture above is what I saw.


And I cried...and cried and cried.

I feel so proud of my little brother...I cant even imagine what having one of my own children get married will feel like. I am overflowing with joy.

I’m just about a decade into my own marriage and I have learned so much about the depths of love...the highs and the lows. The trials and tribulations...they are for real. But even though I think I know a lot...I still know nothing. I hang onto the words of the the couples ahead of me, those married for 15 years..23 years...and longer.

I’m currently sitting with my husband in Los Angeles International Airport waiting for our flights out of the country. We are vacationing without children for the first time since our honeymoon and headed to celebrate the marriage of my little, but very grown up little brother.

My eyes are still leaking, my heart is bursting at the seams and even though....even though, my mother is not here with us..there is no way she doesn't know about this. I cannot wait to witness this event and to welcome a beautiful young lady into our very, VERY, fun family.

 

Her Testimony

Today is that day.

It’s another January 24th.

4 years.

Funny how time works. It really does help the pain subside. It’s not absent, it’s just easier. And not every day is easy. Random days are very hard. Random days are filled with chest pain, tears, disbelief and physical hurt.

But not today. This anniversary doesn't give me a whole lot of pain. That might be tomorrow, who knows.

Today, Im just fine. I’m sitting alone in the kitchen at 5am with my computer, my memories of her and her testimony.

Last fall, I participated in a bible study at our church called “Believing God.” In reality, this bible study saved me in many ways. It prepared me for many more things that were to come in my life I had no clue were headed my way.

Something else this study awakened me to is the importance of leaving your testimony for the generations to follow you. For your children and their children. We had constructed a timeline of what the author called “God Stops.”

These “God Stops” were people and events in our lives that we could look back on and see where the Lord was working to keep us safe, to teach us lessons and to draw us near. I was actually frustrated at the small amount of these instances and people in my early life....or at least the ones I could see and can now remember. 

I worked on my testimony time line and although it’s not fully complete, it’s there. In linear form.

I remember thinking it would have been great to hear my mothers testimony. I know just by our conversations prior to her death and for years leading up to it, that she absolutely believed in God and knew Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior. She would always tell me

“I’m not afraid of dying, because I know where I’m going. I’m afraid of the process.”

And the process, well, it wasn't pretty. But she approached it with grace, strength and probably walking hand in hand with God.

This week, my 7 year old daughter Shelby, was rummaging through a box I have of my moms. It’s been sitting on my back porch for nearly 2 years now. It has all kinds of things in it..her high school yearbook, her cancer beanies, a few kitchen decorations, some of her socks and apparently it had a few of her Bibles in it. Shelby came running in to me and said “Here mom.”

It was my mother’s study bible. I thanked Shelby and thought I’ll just take this back to my bookshelf. On my way to the shelf, I saw a few papers folded in her Bible. I was in the hallway of my home when I pulled them out, opened them up and began to read.

It was her testimony.

It stopped me dead in my tracks. I held back tears as I read it. More so in the fact that I felt her come alive in the words. I felt her come alive as I knew my hands were in the same places she had her hands as she read this and shared it with her church it seems. 
It was alive and it was speaking to me.

I want to share her testimony, because I know she would want that. She would have written this long before the return of her cancer. I know how much these few words mean to me and so I will be certain to finish that timeline for my children and give them the gift of my testimony of faith.

Such a blessing it is for our children.

“Today is Mother’s Day and I thought there wouldn't be a better day than today to give my testimony. Growing up as a child, I went to church now and then and thought I knew Christ. Later, I got married and had three beautiful children, but Christ was not the center of our marriage. We ended up in divorce. The funny thing is during that marriage, I always wanted my family to be closer to God and to to go to church. I prayed for that, but it didn't happen.
    During the divorce, the love I had for my kids kept me going. I talked and prayed to God everyday. Then one day I met this fellow. He swept me off my feet. He also had three kids. Neither one of us were going to church at the time. We talked and wanted to find a nice church to attend. It was at this time he proposed to me.
    Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. Again I talked and prayed to God. I was wondering why something so horrible could happen to me right now when my new life was just starting. The love I had for my family prevented me from giving up.
    At this time, Pastor Harold and Liz came into my life. With the help of their church and our family and friends’ prayers, they got me through a mastectomy, three months of chemotherapy and then a stem-cell transplant.
    Jeff and I decided to get married 5 weeks after my stem-cell transplant. The week before I got married, I was baptized. That cool water sure felt good on my bald head! What a sight! Since then, Kelly, Jessie, Mandy and Sam were all baptized. After I was married, I had to do 6 weeks of radiation. That was the end of my long journey.
    If it weren't for Gods love for me and the love I have for God and my family, I wouldn't have survived that journey. I wouldn't be here today to tell you about it.
    I am closer to Christ now than I have ever been before. I now realize how He used me to get others around me closer to Him. He is present in my life, and he can be in yours too. Just ask Him.
Thank you and Happy Mother’s Day.”

Praying Circles Around Your Children

“One prayer can change anything. One prayer can change everything.”
- Mark Batterson



This parenting thing is kind of tough. Did anyone else see that coming?

No? So, I’m not alone. Whew.

My three children are so important to me but I often find seasons in my life where I’ve occupied my time with “things” ahead of my spouse and kiddos. I’ll tell you what.... that never lasts long before everything implodes.

This past year and a half in our home, I’ve dedicated myself more to being a wife God would be proud of...being a mother God would be proud of and I still fail. For some reason, I’m shocked by it. I shouldn't be at all...not a single one of us is perfect. Failure is a tried and true way of getting it done better (not perfect) the next time. And for that, I thank the good Lord.

There has been a theme jumping in front of my face lately. The power of prayer.

I’ve been better, even keeping small lists of things people around me need interceding for, but I’m talking about specific prayer for my children. My pastors wife spoke last year around Mother’s Day and she said this was probably the most important thing she did and still does for her children. My amazing Aunt Mary said the same thing to me...without even saying it to me. It’s clear what power in parenting she’s using in her home.

My recent conversation with Candace Cameron-Bure solidified that prayer over our children is not just “some thing” parents are doing these days..it’s something God provided us enough material with, I’d be a fool not to obey.

Individual prayers needed...they are sooooo different.

I have had the wonderful opportunity to read Praying Circles Around Your Children, by New York Times bestselling author, Mark Betterson. He is the author of The Circle Maker and these books both focus on prayer.

Praying Circles is a small, easy read full of practical applications of prayer for those precious lives we’re raising and shaping.What I love in this book is the reminder not to just pray for my kids, but to teach them to pray while I’m at it....and that “prayer takes practice.”

He reminded me that “no one can pray for children like parents,” and gives you five kinds of circles to create in prayer for them. 

I honestly plan on keeping this book as a reference at my bedside. Being the easy read that it is, it still took me two weeks to get through, because frankly, I’m so exhausted by the time I get to bed, I can only ever make it a few pages before my body is begging me to get prepared for the next day.

Mark Batterson does a wonderful job speaking to the point on every page...and not a lot of words are needed, which is why this book feels more like a pocket handbook than anything.

I suppose having reminders in your pocket on praying for your kids is not such a terrible thing.

Disclosure: I received this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. 
All opinions and statements are my own.

 

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