Clouds

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, more beautiful than being on top of the clouds with a mid-fall sunset shining down on them.
I have seen beautiful things in my 26 years of life. The ocean, stretching as far as the eye can see. Sunsets so colorful that you are sure Crayola would have to create brand new colors to capture them. My sister growing up. My best friend's pregnant tummy.
But the clouds from an airplane's view - the valleys and rounded mounds like mountains of the sky- are untouchable in their beauty.

It would be easy to forget that they are merely water vapor and step out onto them thinking you would be enveloped by the softest fibers on earth - only to fall through, tumbling down through the mist and light.
It breaks my heart that I can't play among the clouds. Skipping from one to the other. Cupping the matter in my hands and throwing it in the air for it to fall back down. Lying in the cradle of comfort with the one I love while he plays with my hair.

It's a shame.

As the cold comes on, thoughts of sweaters and bonfires, hot coffee and cold nights, fuzzy slippers and ice covered windshields, take over my mind.

This morning my windshield was fogged over, everything outside was blurry and I could barely see out. While many of you are thinking, "wow...that is dangerous" yes...it probably is; however, I wasn't driving. 

As I sat there, looking out of the greyish glass, I reflected that the past year felt exactly like what I was seeing. Cloudy, blurry, indistinguishable. I flipped on my wipers and things became clearer. There were still streaks of moisture...I realized I need new wiper blades.

I am in desperate need of new life. For God to come in and take over. It has been so long since I have felt anything: motivation, pure joy, etc... I am numb to everything, going through the motions of everyday life, doing just what needs to be done. I take little to no joy in what I am doing.

Two weeks ago, at Life Group, I felt the Holy Spirit. Before you stop reading and think I'm nuts...let me explain. We were around a table sharing prayer requests. Two girls agreed to pray (one of them not being me). As the first girl began to pray, I felt a strong urge to pray for one of the girls that has trouble sleeping. She wakes up feeling held down as if something is holding her.

So, the first girl continued praying and I felt really hot and my heart started racing. I was going to ignore the promt to pray but once she was finished praying I blurted out the prayer. It was short but I couldn't help but crying...though I really didn't know why I was crying. And my hands started to sweat and the heat was almost unbearable (sorry to the girls that had to hold my hands while praying...)

I don't say this to boast...I say it because that is what I want all the time. I want to feel the Holy Spirit. I want to feel God.

 

Random thoughts for a Thursday

I haven't had much to blog about lately. Joseph and I celebrated our one year anniversary, quietly and simply.
My mom is dealing with the remnants of thyroid cancer. She starts radiation in two weeks and she is so exhausted. It is hard to be 2.5 hours away. I can't help her, clean for her, cook for her. I can't get the things she needs. Luckily, she has my dad and has had him for 32 years.
I find myself having jealousy issues towards those who are pregnant and/or have babies. I would have been twelve weeks this week but my baby never got "out of the woods".
On the other hand, we are now free to do as we please, travel, sleep in and not worry about another life. This brings about the issue of selfishness. Deep down, I want to continue being selfish, to not bring a baby into the mix because it's hard, tiring and completely changes your life. When you are someone who likes order and control, it is hard to think about losing that control.
Outside, the weather is fickle. Cold, warm, hot. Cold, warm, hot. Forever changing in what people call Indian Summers.
But it is time for bon fires, marshmallows and cider (or apple pie moonshine). It is time to pull out the sweaters but not yet time to put summer clothing away.
I find myself missing those I love so dearly. So much that my heart aches. I miss my mom and dad, I miss my sister, Katelyn, I miss my best friend, Vanessa.
I am missing out on their lives. Facebook can only do so much.

Anyway. Go listen to William Fitzsimmons.

Ac

Throughout my grade school days, I was never bullied. I was quite plain, I never really fit into any particular group, and I never experienced hatred.
Mostly, I hung out with the gothic kids, you know: the ones with the baggy pants, dark clothing and black makeup. I even painted my lips black for a while. During this whole time, I never experienced anything close to bullying.
Lately, I have heard about how bad bullying has become, though I didn't really want to believe that elementary kids were being bullied to the point of suicide.
But tonight, I saw it first hand.
I was hanging out with a friend and her husband who came up to the USC vs. Navy game. My friend's cousin came along ( we will call him Junior). My friend's husband lost his phone and we looked for it for about 30 minutes. I finally looked under the chair and found it (it was under his wife's chair". I grabbed it and exclaimed "I found it" all to looks of unbelief. My friend and her husband believed that I had innocently found it under her chair. However her cousin exclaimed something along the lines of, "she found it? Yeah right. She hid it there. I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her...which obviously isn't far, just look at her."
I honestly have never felt so hurt in my life, especially after miscarrying. Talk about "kick'em when they're down". I cried the whole way home. Just goes to show, some people never grow up. They feel as if hurting someone makes them macho...makes them feel better about themselves.
So, so sad.

Dallas/Oklahoma here I come!

In a little over a month I will be hopping on a plane and heading to the midwest where people dress in cowboy boots and ten gallon hats. Right?
Well, maybe not...
I will be flying into Dallas where I will be picked up by the gorgeous Vanessa. After a night on the town (which will probably involve a virgin drink for her and a spiked beverage for myself) we will head to Lawton, Oklahoma.

Some things I want to do in Dallas:

I would like to visit the flight museum...I think it would be awesome.
http://www.flightmuseum.com/

Of course I have to visit the Dallas Cowboys Stadium since they are my dad's favorite football team! http://stadium.dallascowboys.com/

Some things I want to do while in Oklahoma:

Sing the entire score of Oklahoma!:



Just kidding...

I do want to relax and visit with Vanessa, Rory and Lana. By the time I go out there, Vanessa will be 34 weeks pregnant so i am sure we will spend a lot of time chatting over coffee (well at least I'll be dirnking coffee) and watching chick-flicks while eating popcorn and tons of chocolate...because you know Baby Lana has to have chocolate.

The National Cowboy Museum...don't ask. I like Will Rogers, what can I say?http://www.nationalcowboymuseum.org/

And of course, the site of the Oklahoma City Bombing.    http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org/

Are there any other places that I should see while I am there?

A little less

Everyday the sting of loss hurts a little less. Mainly because of the grace that our Father blesses me with everyday and the constant reminders he gives of love and restoration.

Also, the people I have been surrounded with. My husband, mom, lifegroup, family and friends.

I have learned much through the process. I learned that sometimes, I cannot grieve alone like I like to do. Sometimes the tears have to fall on someones shoulders. I was able to get a glimpse into motherhood, what it is like to care for someone so completely without ever seeing their face. 

Sometimes my hand still gravitates towards where Lord Voldemort was nestled in my tummy. And while I know that he is no longer there, I know that he has paved the way for our next little one.

On loss and love

I'm not sure how to start this post... but here we go:

On September 25,  which would be mine and Joseph's 1 year anniversary, we were going to announce that we were expecting an amazing little baby. I would have said that I was due April 14 and that we were hoping it to be a boy (though any sex would do). We would have been congratulated and doted upon. We would have started our baby registry and around Thanksgiving we would have found out the sex of the baby. (And hopefully through the process I would have gotten over my fear of needles...eesh).

But sometimes things don't work out. On Sunday, September 4th I began the process of miscarrying. I believe we completely lost the baby on Monday. I never really thought about what it would be like to have a miscarriage. I knew many of my loved ones have been through it but I didn't really know what the process was like and I didn't know about the physical and emotional pain.

It is surreal. Sometimes, I can't believe it. After only 8 weeks, the baby had already become such a huge part of Joseph and I. I want so badly to go back.

I would place my hands over my tummy like I was holding the most precious gift, and I was. I wanted to hold him forever, to keep him safe and cradled until he was ready to come out into the world. My hand still wants to go there to protect him, to keep him in place.

My sister had christened the baby with a name: Lord Voldemort. Not a conventional name to give a precious baby, but it was uniquely his none-the-less. Prior to finding out that I was pregnant, Katelyn was looking through a stage-by-stage pregnancy book. While looking at one of the photos of a baby, she exclaimed "that looks like Lord Voldemort." From then on, the baby in my tummy was known as Lord Voldemort (or Lord Volde for short).

The thought of how big the baby was, how already at 8 weeks, the baby has eyes with eyelids, its little hands and feet are forming. He is about the size of a raspberry. A little raspberry was in my tummy. The thought put me in a constant state of awe - that I was growing a little person.

While there is tremendous sadness and feelings of loss, there are always feelings of happiness - the baby had already brought so much joy to our lives. Joseph and I gained new titles: that of mommy and daddy.

The wound is still fresh, I go through moments of pure sadness thinking of how "I wanted that baby...no other...just that one". I wonder "why" and "what if".  But through it all, God is good. He knows the answers to all my "whys" and "what ifs". And I trust Him with it.

For a slight moment in our lives, we got to experience a different kind of love.  One that will be with us until we pass on.

We cannot thank everyone enough - those that have called, texted and visited. Thank you for loving us.