Whom shall I fear?

2 Corinthians 12:9 ESV
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

I am struggling so much today. While going through marriage counseling this week, I had the revelation that I have a huge fear problem. I am afraid of everything. I've known for years that I have panic attacks, but I never realized how much I fear people thinking poorly of me. It consumes me and dictates my actions. I just never recognized it!

I cling to my fiance too tightly at times because I don't want him to stray, meanwhile pushing him away. I sometimes cling to my children a bit too tightly as well, not giving them as much independence as they deserve at their respective ages. Sometimes, I don't say specific things at work because I want people to like me. And I can't handle the idea of people NOT getting along with me, even if it's something as simple as someone not feeling well!

So today I found that someone close to me has been spreading lies. Horrible lies. The kind of lies that would knock your breath out of your body anyway, let alone if they're said about you. And of course my first response was fear. Will anyone be able to take me seriously? Will anyone know the truth? What will happen if...? And it just went on and on until I can't handle it anymore.

So here I am, confessing my weakness. I am afraid of what people say about me. I am afraid of having a bad reputation, even though my Savior Jesus came and had NO reputation when he very much deserved the highest honors (Philippians). Why can't I learn to be more like Him?

It is my hope in confessing and recognizing my weakness, that I will allow the Lord to be strong. Lord, take this area of my life, all this fear. Help me to rest in Your love for me instead of worrying about the love of other people. Help me to see your beautiful, perfect love and let it be enough.

Moving forward when the past tries to drag you back

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Yes, that is more commonly known as "shell-shock" and frequently occurs in military vets. It also occurs in survivors of domestic violence. Oddly, children are not as likely to have PTSD because the domestic violence situation is their "normal," whereas the adult's brain understands this trauma is not "normal."

So a few years ago, I was at work and had to get in between a large man with dementia trying to hurt a smaller woman. Suddenly, I felt a panic. I had dealt with the man before but never in this context. I had to actually run out of the room once another staff member came in, and lock myself in a small medication closet, falling to the floor and crying. I was in there a good 20 minutes or so, just crying. It was the weirdest experience of my life. I felt utterly helpless and hopeless. I felt ashamed. I felt like I was not present, that I was detached and partly somewhere else. I had some memories of specific past home events over the next few days. I fell into depression.

Eventually, my depression got so bad that I knew I needed help. I couldn't function. All I could do was get my kids to school and get them fed and wash their clothes. We had no quality of life. I cried and slept off and on, but I never slept much at a time due to nightmares. I hospitalized myself and finally began talking to a psychiatrist. He was wonderful! He told me that even though I thought of PTSD as a war disease, I had been in a war zone for 12 years. He had a point.

I began taking anti-depressants and began talking regularly to a therapist. I learned how very vital routine is to my well-being. With routine, there are less out-of-control times where I feel panicky. Sadly, life with four very busy children leaves me with very little routine! I realize I could fight for routine but I am so tired. Too tired to fight. And so depression occasionally rears its ugly head and I feel helpless and out of control again, and then the flashbacks begin. Thankfully I am able to get a handle on it after a few days.

I'm now getting ready to marry a wonderful, kind, gentle man. A man who would never hurt me, never belittle me, never shame me on purpose. A man who prays for me and loves me despite my past. But the PTSD makes me have this fight-or-flight thing emotionally. I push away when I feel even the slightest chance he might do something like that. The offense can be something as slight as looking at me a certain way. I fight imaginary demons - I create them!

One of the symptoms of PTSD is emotional avoidance. I find this to be more true than the "flashback" for me. Though I seem happy and bubbly, it is sometimes just an act. Many times I am just numb inside. Not depressed, not happy, just numb. It is easier to be numb. It is control.

So with a wedding that is looming two months away, what do I do? I say "looming" as a joke, because I love my fiance and desperately want to marry him and share life with him. I want to trust him and the part of me that is "me" (and not PTSD) DOES trust him. He is wonderful. But doesn't he deserve someone who won't sometimes pull back from his touch?

I want to get married. I want to live happily ever after. I just don't know how.

Reality is definitely stranger than fiction

What happens when...

Megadeth meets Morrissey?

Sci-fi meets Fantasy?

Ironed and tucked-in meets "I think this might be clean?"

Action meets Musical?

Order meets Chaos?

Usually early meets Often late?

Realist meets Dreamer?

Tech nerd meets Pop culture geek?

Third doctor meets Ninth doctor?

Cat person meets Dog lover?

Vocational track meets College prep?

Military meets Undisciplined wannabe hippie?

New and eager Christian meets Old and bitter believer?

"Betrayer" meets "betrayed?"

Meat-and-potatoes meets Occasional vegan?

Coffee meets Chai?

North Carolina farm meets Florida concrete?

Introvert meets Extrovert?

Gentle and quiet meets loud and vivacious (a nice word for "obnoxious")?

Broken-hearted meets broken-hearted?

Lonely meets lonely?

Sinner meets sinner?

What happens when...

Two people who need God's grace find it?

Two people who cried out to God for a best friend find that and more?

I could tell you the answer. But I think I'll know a little more in ten months...when I can blog about "my husband."

Seven years out

He never did let go, even when I thought He did.

The best adventure tales start with the hero in dreary circumstances, and typically involve him going through a series of trials and tribulations in which he finally learns his true identity, defeats the bad guy, and lives happily ever after. In some ways, my story is like that. In other ways, it is not. In my story, there are bad actions and good actions, and a bunch of flawed people who do both. 

My story starts seven years ago today. June 2, 2006. I was a homeschooling mother of four beautiful children. We ate all-natural food, we played a lot and did school via action more than books. Two other homeschooling families lived on our peaceful little street, so the kids never lacked playmates. In so many ways, it was a perfectly ideal situation.

But it wasn't. I will spare the more gruesome details and give you some images instead:

• A pot of macaroni and cheese being flung across the kitchen at me because that was the wrong dinner.
• An indent in a wall from a child's rear end, because she had been angrily pinned against it using a sleeper sofa(yes, this was reported to Social Services later).
• crutches
• fear
• not being able to go anywhere because my keys were taken during the day

Seven years ago today, those images forever became a thing of the past. I woke up. I left. The kids and I left. We didn't take anything with us. I detailed later that we eventually were able to pick up a few rubbermaid totes (four, I think, in total) of our things. Then the trials began. Again, sparing the gruesome details:

• Kids going into public school for the first time, in a small-town environment where everyone is related
• Me searching for a job for six weeks, finally landing a waitress job, then breaking my foot and losing my job
• My inability to make even the simplest decisions or figure out how to run a house because, until then, all decisions and schedules were made for me
• A crazy neighbor who would threaten us, harass us, and even beat up my dad
• Nursing school
• more details of abuse emerging from the children once they were in a safe environment
• my oldest child's numerous (10+) short-term hospitalizations, and her 2.5 years gone from my home, gone so far and we missed her every. single. day.
• my oldest child's eventual readmission to my home and all the fallout from it
• me trying to navigate relationships, both friendship and romantic. 
• Despair, lack of faith, hopelessness

Factor in all the usual tribulations of raising children (stitches, puke, lying, bullying, lack of sleep).

I remember yelling at God a lot. I remember doubting He existed or, if He did, He must not love me. I resented the situation I'd been thrown in. Sometimes I wanted to press rewind and go back to our old life. I think all the trials lasted five years, almost six. It seemed like FOREVER. It's only since last June 2nd that I've realized we're finally getting out of that junk. I only realized it because last June 2nd, I didn't even notice it was June 2nd because I was busy with my kids and boyfriend!

So we should be coming to the true identity part, right? I'm not sure. I've learned a lot about myself in seven years. I've learned that I was called to be a nurse, and I believe that with every fiber of my being. When I am  at work doing what I do, I feel...right. I've also learned my horrible weaknesses and flaws as a single parent, but I've gained so much more love and appreciation for my children. They are my world, even if my teenagers think I'm mean and don't love them.  I've learned that a man CAN love me for me, and a man can be gentle and kind to me.

Most of all, I have learned grace. I have learned, as my pastor often paraphrases, I am more sinful and lost than I could ever imagine, and more loved and accepted than I could ever dare dream. I have learned to show grace and compassion because that is what the Lord has shown me. I have learned to let go of my cynicism that I once held up like a shield and am learning to drop the sarcasm I so often use as a weapon. Instead, I choose to carry grace in both hands, neither weapon nor shield, but instead a healing balm for those I offend and those who offend me.

The bad guy? Well, that's humanity, isn't it? My ex-husband is not a monster. He is a deeply flawed person, yes, but not a monster. He was once a little boy who toddled and grinned: Somewhere deep inside is that little boy still. I can only pray God, through His love, lets that little boy come out again. The bad guy is me, you, and everyone else who chooses selfishness and pride instead of grace and love. We all do it. We all screw up the world with it.

As for a happy ending, we'll just have to see where I'm at in seven more years. The sweet boyfriend and I are talking big plans for the future. My youngest child is going into seventh grade. My oldest child has been in college for 2 years now. My middle daughter will be a senior, and my son will be a freshman in high school. I'm back in school getting my RN and should be done in a year at most. So all I can guess is that the next seven years will be the kind of happy adventure that gets tacked on in the epilogue of a great book!

OHHHHH...and why did I write this? Because I know there are some of you in the midst of your own trials. I want to remind you that your Author has a plan for you. :)

Identity

I hide behind

  my weight

     my hair in my face

       my scatter-brained way

I put up my walls in silly physical form.

I say I don't care what you think of me

but

I cringe when

   I make a joke and you don't laugh

     there are awkward pauses in our conversation

       my voice carries a little too loudly

         I don't look just so

I am told I am perceived as confident and smart

but

Inside I am

   small

     scared

       dying

         alone

How glorious is it that the King of Glory

sees the real me and loves it?

And now...

I hide behind

   His Word

     His death

       His resurrection

He tears down the walls in their spiritual form

and I find that I

   care less and less about what you think

     enjoy quiet reflection

       rejoice that I've been given a voice

Inside I am

   becoming

     more

       like

         Jesus

Vegetize me!

So most everyone's heard of the movie Super Size Me, where the guy eats nothing but McDonalds and chronicles his health's downward turn. I'm about to embark on the opposite journey, abandoning the American junk food diet and hoping my health improves.

The rules for Vegetize Me are as follows:

1. Each meal or snack should contain at least one serving of a fruit or vegetable besides corn or potatoes.

2. I will not be eating any animal products because I know my cholesterol sucks and I need to bring it down. The only POSSIBLE exception is if my refusal would directly insult someones hospitality.

3. I will weigh in and check blood pressure weekly. I will document food daily.

4. Food will not be made from mixes. Sigh. No tofu helper.

5. I will share a meal with someone besides my kids once a week. Part of good health is good social health!

So there we have it. Let's see what happens!

It gets better, but not if you're straight

Before anyone gets upset, I am NOT downplaying the work at The Trevor Project which has a MASSIVE anti-suicide campaign aimed at gay youth. I believe with all my heart that each human life is priceless to God, regardless of sexual orientation. So now that that's said...

My 12-year-old son is getting bullied a lot. His guidance counselor has put an end to the physical bullying, such as pushing, stealing, etc. But the name-calling continues. Every afternoon after school, I pick up a kid who's faking a smile until he walks out the door, when he dissolves into tears. Every afternoon after school, I deal with an emotional meltdown. I try not to baby or tell him what to do. I try to just listen, and I encourage him to work it out. I tell him it will get better.

Thing is, it hasn't improved yet. It's getting worse. My son, in an effort to look "cool." dyed part of his hair blue-green last night. This is not prohibited by the school's dress code. It reads, " The
following conduct is illustrative of disruptive behavior and is prohibited:...  appearance or clothing which (1) is disruptive, or (2) is provocative, offensive or obscene;  (3) endangers the health or safety of the student or others, or (4) violates the dress code adopted and publicized by the schools...

So he went to school. I stopped in to talk to his guidance counselor about the bullying situation. When I stepped back into the hall, there he was, walking down the hall with the principal, crying. He'd been in school 1/2 hour. He says his homeroom teacher looked straight at him and told him his hair looked terrible. Kids started calling him "queer" and "fag" and asked if he did his hair because he likes boys. This is a typical insult for them, that he's gay.

The principal said that we live in a conservative county and my son should have known better than to color his hair because it makes people pick on him. First off, this isn't true. The high schoolers have piercings and dyed hair galore. A girl in the middle school band has pink hair. The art teacher's hair is artistically colorful. Secondly, people pick on my son regardless of his hair. The homeroom teacher happened to notice it because he noticed the HAIR. But of course, it's my son's fault he gets picked on. It's his hair that was disruptive in class, not the kids who have been calling him gay since the first day of school. So he got sent home and told to fix it so he would fit in better.

We're home now and my son is asking me the questions I so wish I had answers for. What happens tomorrow when people still pick on him? When is it going to stop? Why is it his fault, and why can't he fit in?

And I have a few questions of my own. Where are the anti-bullying campaigns for straight kids? Why is it OK for my son to get called "fag" and "queer" when school systems wouldn't tolerate that happening to a gay kid, thanks to the media attention? (and I'm not saying they SHOULD tolerate it!) Why is my son told that it's HIS fault people pick on him? This is the same kid who was held in the office during recess in 4th grade to "protect" him from the bullies who were allowed to have fun and fresh air on the playground. Why is my son being punished while the offenders get to do & say whatever they want?

I'm juggling all of this. I understand the principal's viewpoint. I understand that sometimes you have to try to meet people in the middle, find common ground. But if you've tried that, how long do you keep at it? How long until he stops being sick to his stomach every morning and in tears every afternoon? How long until it gets better?

A cup of coffee is good for the soul

If you've ever gone through a fellowship drought, then you know how you get so thirsty for community that eventually it becomes an undefined emotional ache that just nibbles at your subconscious every now and again. Or maybe that's just me.

ANYway...

I have gone years without true, voluntary, no-pressure fellowship. Sure, I've attended choir practices and church suppers (where I usually ended up sitting by myself), women's events and Bible studies. I tried helping in kitchens and with events, only to be shut out by others who knew each other better and didn't have a want or need to know me. I slowly became so tired of trying that I went to complacent and possibly even to averse and unpleasant in nature.

So I guess I was kinda surprised when a friend from community group asked me to go to coffee the other day. Our planned 30 minutes turned into 2 hours and I remembered just how AWESOME fellowship is. I left with a sense of purpose, and I think she did too. It's funny how just one cup of coffee can do that, eh?

Let Heaven and Nature Sing, Especially Nature.

I went through a pagan phase as a mid-teen, in those pre-Twilight, post-Anne Rice vampire days, except I wasn't a Goth like the other people I knew who were pagan.

I didn't do it for the spells or The Craft or to make people like me. I did it because of the woods and the music.

When I think "pagan," my mind conjures (ha!) up images of dancing outside to Celtic music, and giving people names that are either hippie-ish to the max or with a mix of vowels and consonants unfamiliar to most American tongues. I think of intellectualism and sisterhood and beauty and oneness. Of course, I know these are not ALL of paganism's traits, but this is what I think of on this dreary winter day.

So I got to thinking...

Why have we as Christians distanced ourselves from that? Obviously we should distance ourselves from worshiping anything other than members of the Trinity, but why have we so easily given up the other aspects?

Why don't we, who believe that man was given stewardship of the earth, spend more TIME in that environment? Why can't we worship our Lord, the Creator, in the midst of His creation?

And dang it, why have we settled for peppy, mainstream, pop music as our worship music? Where are the fiddles and pipes and other good instruments?

Why is Christian sisterhood so different? Why can't we spend time together as females just cooking and laughing and sharing WITHOUT big hair and dinner-with-a-guest-speaker?

If we believe God made us, all of us, why are we so afraid to discuss the deep issues? YES, there are times where we ultimately have to rely on faith, but why are we afraid to use the minds our Lord gave us?

Why can't we enjoy the beauty around us, the moments we're given -- to be fully in the moment and loving Jesus at the same time?

These are the things I'm wondering about on this dreary winter day.

Why is death so difficult?

I know the title of the post probably prompts a few people to scoff, "DUH! Because death sucks!" in slightly better terms. I guess I should preface that I know death sucks, but I am one of those rare, weird people that wants to work for Hospice and deal with death regularly. I think that in itself is a calling and does not make me better or worse than you, just called to a specific area you are not.

That said, I've cried a lot over the past weekend because people in my church - people I don't even know other than faces - lost their 16 year old son this weekend. I've cried because that is what we do as humans and as Christians -- we grieve with those who grieve, and we try to bear one another's burdens. I cry because the pain of death is so great that it MUST be shared even if the mourners themselves are unaware of its spreading.

So WHY does death suck? If we are simply an evolutionary product, why wouldn't our coping mechanisms for a natural occurrence evolve so we wouldn't get sucked into a black hole when we lose someone? And coming at that from a non-evolutionary, spiritual perspective, why do we grieve so terribly when we have the hope that God is in control?

The answer, to me, is that death was never part of the original plan. Way back in Genesis, God created this beautiful garden and it had two trees in the middle, one of which was the Tree of Life and the other the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God told Adam & Eve that they were free to eat of any tree except that second one. He mentioned ONLY that second one by name and told them to eat of the rest. Which means, of course, that they could eat freely from the Tree of Life.

I often wonder what that fruit was like. Was it sweet? Did it make you tingle when you tasted it? Did you get a burst of energy from it? Or did it taste sorta vitaminy, in a good way, like organic stuff from the natural foods store? Was it soft or crunchy? Did it have a rind like an orange or a peel like a pear?

Anyway, mankind screwed up and disobeyed and then an animal died so they could be covered with fur. The first non-plant-cycle death happened as a result of that sin, and we've been dealing with death ever since. And I think there's a trace of us that longs for our original, sinless, non-dying state. There's a part of us that knows we weren't supposed to lose one another or to be lost ourselves and that part is desperately longing for things to be righted. That part of us - the little tiny iota of us that retains our original being - knows the incredible wrongness of death to our very nature.

Those are just very random thoughts jumbled up. I know there's a lot more to the issue, but I think that's the heart of it.

What will YOU be like when you get old and senile?

I've been busting my tail at a long-term care facility, so I've encountered some absolutely funny situations. One thing that gets me is that when old people start losing their minds, they talk about events that happened yeaaaaars ago. That got me to thinking.

What will -I- talk about?

I hope to God I am not one of those women who flashes residents for bingo cards or something unless I've had some fake boobs put in. Otherwise, I guess by that time, I'll just pick up my skirt? (Counter that with the pervy old men who actually pay women like that).

Will I be one of those women who sings songs that no one knows because they're from, like, a gazillion years ago and not popular. When I sing Morrissey's "Life Is a Pigsty", will someone think I'm suicidal?

Oh no! Will I think I'm a mage or a warrior or a cleric or something from a roleplaying game? Will I wiggle my fingers at people, thinking I'm casting a spell?

This is kind of a creepy thought. What's your worst nightmare that you might do when you get old?

Christian dating websites...why?!

I was just over on Facebook, being all facebooky, when off to the left of whatever I was doing was an ad for "Christian Mingle," a dating website for Christians. I'm curious so I went and looked. Mind you, my children told me the other day, "You should go on eharmony.com and find a husband." But really, I'm kinda anti-dating website for a variety of reasons.

First off, a non-Christian friend of mine has used said websites and Craigslist personals. While the guys she meets purport to be interested in relationships, in the end she's nothing but a booty call. She finally decided to pull all of her ads off. The last straw was some guy telling her that "redheads are hot and have big boobs." Yeah, that's a winner right there. Makes me want to run right out and meet him!


Then from a Christian perspective, I have a few questions. The first is, "Is this a good use of my time and energy?"

What to do when bad things happen?

Tater is going through a lot. I found a journal of hers (she gave me permission to read her journals) and it is basically a very angry letter to God spelling out very specific incidents she remembers and asking why He let them happen.

I can't blame her.

I also recently watched a video blog made by a dad who'd recently lost his 10 year old son to a rare cancer. He wanted to know why God let that happen.

So these are the things I'm thinking about lately. There are TONS of books about "Why bad things happen to good people" but you know what? You could tell me a bunch of reasons until you're blue in the face and it isn't going to ease the pain. We all know that.

So what's the right thing to do when someone faces horrible pain?

This is what I'm thinking about lately.

Tater update: Has broken a lightbulb and cut herself all over the face and arms. She's 14 and will have scars on her face from this. God help us.

School update: Less than two months to go til Pinning! I got assigned to a nursing home for Preceptors (bleh) but I'm looking forward to getting out there and working. Not looking forward to the smells though. I'm going to be an adamant vegetarian when I get old so that I don't stink everything up.

The Things That Matter

So now that I've had time to digest it, I'll post it. My Tater tried to kill herself the other day, and almost succeeded. When I heard the news, everything else faded away except the thoughts of "God, I wish I'd..." and the overwhelming urge to storm the facility where she is, bust down the doors and just hold my child.

We get so caught up in life and in ourselves that we forget the basic, most important aspects of life. We get caught up in looking right, in acting right, in money,in jobs, in pop culture. We forget the basic human connections that make life worth living.

Rare is the day you hear a dying person say, "I wish I'd had more shallow relationships." You hear "I wish I'd spent more time with my son" (or husband, or father, etc.). Rare is the day you hear "I wish I'd seen more mediocre films" or "I wish I'd played more Scrabble." You hear "I wish I'd taken that trip to the Grand Canyon my wife wanted to take."

Life is so short. We get one go-round. Even if you disagree with that, we get one go-round in this body and with these circumstances.

What good is it if we achieve everything material wise but have no one to share it with?

I hope this post will remind everyone that it's the PEOPLE in our lives that matter. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go play Wii...with my kids.

Rocking my World

So my world's being rocked but I think it's a good thing, you know?

Turns out Funsize has been deceiving me about a whole aspect of his life. I'm pretty sure he's ashamed of it, which is rather funny since this aspect supposedly has made him a better man. It was an answer to prayer for me to find out this information about him, and definitely put him into perspective as a completely lost individual who needs to be found.

Actually, that whole subject has me thinking on the beauty of absolute morality but that's another post.

Tater is in the state mental institution right now, and has lost her placement at her facility. No idea where she's going next week, and she's been hurting herself and flashing back an awful lot. I love my Taterhead and I can either fall apart and quiver with fear for her future, or I can trust that the Lord has a plan for her life.

My quote of the day yesterday was: I can't even handle my LAUNDRY problem, so why should I try to solve everything else instead of giving it to Jesus?

School is insane as usual. Three more months and then Pinning! Yay.
Have been getting close with a few girls there. We're pondering small, matching tattoos on our feet to commemorate our sisterhood, upon graduation.

Have made a couple of friends at church. When I say "friends", I mean friends. I have many acquaintances wherever I go, thanks to realizing I'm an absolute extrovert who was always so timid that I was an introvert. I'm hoping these friends become the kind of people I can have wonderful fellowship with, because I so miss that.

I don't remember if I posted or not but I laid hands on my ex-husband and prayed for him recently. It was a beautiful occurrence, so God and not me. The man is lost. I'm not saying I want to be his best buddy or anything. I just want him to have peace.

(CORRECTION: I struggle everyday with anger towards him, but the good part of me wants him to have peace.)

Anyway, my update is that my world is so being rocked and I'm rocking with it, and it's a darned good thing. I shed a few tears over allllll of the above situations but I've put them all in the Lord's hands. Now if He would only do my laundry...

Preceptors

Hey!

Specific request for you praying types out there.

I need you to pray that I will be satisfied with wherever I am placed at for preceptorships. Many people are offered jobs by these facilities after graduation, which is somewhat of a relief. But honestly, I don't know what kind of nurse I want to be. I can tell you some things I absolutely love:

* Surgery. I love the OR! I hope someday to get my RN and become an OR nurse. Right now, LPN's don't typically work in OR's. Also, the call schedule would kinda suck what with me being a single parent.

*Caring for profoundly mentally retarded folks. I have done my last two clinical days at such a facility and have absolutely LOVED it. Loved! I mean, really. It has brought me such joy, even though I've had to do some icky stuff. Also, the facility has basically a long-term care section AND a medical-surgical unit, so I can pick up a lot of experience on both ends. Problem with this is that the facility is over an hour's drive away so I'd have to leave my kids with my parents overnight a lot to do the preceptorships, and how would we handle it if I was offered a job? Could I do it? Dunno.

I tolerate the med-surg floor at the hospital and definitely prefer it to the long-term care I've been exposed to thus far. If I couldn't get either of the above (or the Emergency Room, which I haven't yet explored), I'd definitely want med-surg over nursing home any day.

Preceptorships start in March. They're already starting to place people now, even though they're not telling us. Please pray for me.

Thanks!

PS You can always pray that a) God will provide a massive amount of money so I don't have to work, or b) God will provide someone to take care of my kids so that scheduling isn't an issue. Preferably someone who wouldn't mind homeschooling a couple of 'em. ;)

I so get it now

That old saying "If I knew then what I know now..." I get it.

If I knew then that I can be a confident, popular (and dare I say it...flirtatious) person despite my weight, I would've had happier high school years and probably not just dated burnouts.

If I knew that I could make people laugh myself, I wouldn't have cowered behind the "funny girl" and fed her jokes during Freshman year, watching her get all the credit.

If I knew that math and science were wayyyy cool and that I loved the logic behind them, I would have hung out more with the nerds and less with the stoners.

If I knew that I am naturally an extrovert and that life's circumstances had forced me to be shy and introverted, I would have taken some risks and probably become more of a leader.

I wonder what I don't know now that I'll know in a few years.

Good times

So yeah. Life's been pretty good lately. I'm rockin the coursework in the LPN program with a solid B average (which is fine, trust me). Got a great evaluation from my clinical instructors that say I'm doing great and what I do "will take you very far." And today I finished a major paper on wound healing, and I'm finally catching up on the numerous Psychology essays that are overdue. Should be all caught up with schoolwork as of this evening! Woohoo!

Taterhead is doing AMAZING. She's not perfect, still hasn't earned off-campus visits. Yet compared to where she was just two months ago, we are all tickled pink over her progress. Peanut's been doing well in school, even though he got the "mean teacher." Punkin is growing up fast and she's such a social butterfly. And Bean...wellllll, we have our good days and bad days. When they are bad, they really suck. I have been sworn at and told the ultimate, "You're not my real mom!" But by and large, Bean is turning out to be a cool person. I like talking to her.

Best of all, I have RL friends! yay! It's weird to go into your classroom and sit down and have several people wanting your attention. Most everyone wants my attention and help with LPN stuff, but a few people in particular have moved beyond that into the friendship zone. I love them muchly.

And...my bizarre friendship with Funsize is on again, which brings me lots of happiness. I wish I could explain why it's so important to have his friendship, but I can't. Just that out of all of the people I've ever known, he gets me better than anyone else, and I him. It's a cool thing and not presently a romantic thing though I admit to slight obsessions about that, and then guilt over those. Haha. I'm a dork.

So you know what, my friends? Today I just want to thank Jesus for everything. For everything awful and wretched that has brought me to this place, to this moment where I sit typing on my bed listening to my kids laugh, even if I am surrounded by laundry and books. For everything good that has happened along the way. I do want to sing along with this song because it's how I feel lately.

I'm like Maria. I have confidence!

So now I've done quite a few clinicals and they're starting to not be as scary as they once were. I figured something out the other day when I was doing Recovery Room observation. See, when you go to the Recovery Room, you have to wear the hospital's sterile scrubs and their sterile footies and stuff. And suddenly, I realized that I didn't have that "LOOK AT ME! I'M A STUDENT!" uniform on, and no one knew I was a student just by looking at me. And I walked around with confidence so much so that dr's were asking me questions like I worked there. Haha. (Don't worry, I said I was a student and made them go ask someone who knew.)

So you know...if I can have that confidence in the scrubs, I can have that confidence in the uniform too. Though if you saw the uniform, maybe you'd know why it's so uninspiring.

I'm really excited to go to my next clinical, which will be in the Operating Room. It's not just because of the sterile scrubs (they do help) but because I'm antsy to know if I'll be the ONE student who passes out during surgery, falling into the sterile field and causing a hullabaloo. No one's done it yet. Will it be me? Will I suddenly get woozy at the sight of a gallbladder being sucked through a tube? Will the vision of blood during a knee replacement be too much and make me puke?

The thing I've learned is that when I am most afraid, that is the time to rush in and conquer the fear instead of dwelling on it. So I'm excited for Tuesday. I'm also hoping my bronchitis clears up enough for me to go in! :p Or I'll be taking some heavy duty cough suppressant, in which case I might just conk out next to the patient on the operating table. ;)

One down, two to go

I finished my first semester of the nursing program today. Whew, what a ride it's been! In the end we lost a total of 7 people:

• 1 to another program
• 4 after background checks
• 1 due to anxiety
• 1 due to grades. Everyone was shocked because Mr. Man had lied and said he was an A student.

I ended up acing Anatomy & Physiology with an A, thank goodness. And I somehow pulled up a barely-passing grade to a B in Nursing. I am not sure how. I did learn the value of group study this semester. Actually, I learned the value of plain old studying. Never had to do that before!

I am very impressed with the way the class is working past our social boundaries. We had four girls who were dangerously close to failing. They had to make a certain grade on the final exam in order to return next semester. This afternoon, we all waited around to find out our grades. Several of us made sure those girls got in line near the front.

The first girl walked out in absolute tears and there was a hush over the 20-something of us. I began to ask, "Did you..." in a horrified voice. And then she sobbed and said, "tears of joy!" and even the most hard-hearted of us began to cry. The next girl, who is quite the cynic and therefore one of my new friends, came out beaming and allowed everyone to hug her. Made it by .5! Then another girl came out in tears and hugged the first crying girl and when she said she passed, the entire hall erupted into applause.

The fourth girl is a different story and perhaps an entry will be forthcoming on the ethical dilemma I have faced lately. For now, some celebratory sleep!