Waiting

I'm sitting in the waiting room of my GI doctor's office, waiting to hear what the biopsies of my colon look like that he took when he did my colonoscopy several weeks ago. We are also going to discuss what medicine I need to start for my ulcerative colitis. This has been a long road for me. My colon started acting up as a teenager and has been a source of anxst for several decades. I am not a great patient advocate when it comes to my needs. I'm much better when it comes to my loved ones. Having been in the military for almost 20 years, the art of attaining continuity of care was lost on me. Knowing we would uproot and move every two years or so made regular appts for myself seem like a tedious waste of time. I had five littles to take care of and their health was more important and more pressing. But now I don't have that excuse. We are no longer relocating every few years and my children are healthy and more independent now. So here I sit, following up with my GI, anticipating great results from my biopsies and expecting low dose medicine for the time being. 

I've had a few cancer scares over the years with my breasts and my uterus but those all came to nothing, praise Jesus. I feel I have peace that surpasses all understanding with this colon appt because God has proven himself faithful time and time again. Jesus is my unshakable joy, in spite of my circumstances. He speaks into the storms of my life and even holds the boat of my life in the palm of His hand. I'm truly looking forward to addressing my chronic inflammation and seeing improvements in my health as I start medicine and make some lifestyle changes. I've started a Whole30 diet as well to address inflammation from a dietary standpoint. My hope and prayer is first and foremost that God would completely heal me. While I wait for that wholeness on this side of Heaven I need to be intentional about taking steps to honor the body God gave me. 

GI appt went very well. I have a very mild form of ulcerative colitis and will be starting on Tier 1 treatment with a follow up in 3 months. I am excited to see how God uses this treatment and my diet changes to bring healing and restoration to my body!

Where Have All The Words Gone?

Hello, blogging world. It has been a very long time. In fact, it has been over two years since my last post. Something I committed to doing regularly some four years ago, has turned into a  stray sock that fell behind the dryer and was lost forever. Until I did Spring cleaning of course and pulled the dryer out and found said missing sock. As for Spring cleaning, that is a bad word in our home, as is the word "bored". Deep cleaning and I have a hate/hate relationship. 

I digress.

Why am I back to the blogging grind after taking such a long hiatus? Words. Simply put. Words have a tendency to rise up in me, so many that if they do not spill out onto a page, they will insufferably be buried down deep and forgotten. It has been a long, dry, and isolating season for us all as we've suffered the effects of COVID-19 and have holed up in our homes, against our desire, for most of 2020. Now I've consumed my share of words, ideas, and opinions via social media, books, and other miscellaneous forms of communication. But I have not truly expressed very many of my own, organic words. I can get lost in books, both literally and figuratively as my husband and I both stumble over the piles of them I leave EVERYWHERE. If Amazon gave out awards for most prolific book purchasers, I would have that sucker on my desk, displayed proudly. But I struggle to set aside time to get my own words out and organized. What if I stopped worrying about organization and presentation and just got them out? 

Today has been an exceptionally low day. I experienced a "dark night of the soul". I locked myself in my innermost, Holy of Holies, aka my closet, and wrestled with God. The wrestling had less to do with the circumstances surrounding me and more to do with the wellbeing of my spirit man. Ask anyone and I am the poster child of "I'm fine, nothing is wrong!" It has only been these last 8 months or so that God, in His mercy, has begun to unpack my innermost emotional wounds and words, against my will I might add. To the point that I have to unpack, process, and sit in the moment whenever I am overwhelmed. I can no longer shove it down or under the proverbial carpet. It's actually impossible now. My soul refuses to be silenced any longer. Having a voice is a good thing, it's a God thing. For too long I've held a fearful hand over the mouth of my spirit and commanded it to hush. No more. 

Prune

What comes to mind when you hear the word “prune”? Prune’s definition is: A plum preserved by drying and having a black, wrinkled appearance.  For me, immediately I can relate to a dried up piece of fruit. Something that was once plump and juicy has now become small, hard and dry. Another definition that comes to mind is the act of pruning, to be pruned. The dictionary terms it this: Trim (a tree, shrub, or bush) by cutting away dead or overgrown branches or stems, especially to encourage growth. Both definitions mean similar things but also vary greatly.

Today I’m going to type about “transition”. To me it is a like a bad word, or a pile of left over crumbs that need to be swept up and tossed out. My hard working hubby is “transitioning” out of the Army and retiring after 21 years of service. Who knew transitioning out of the Army would actually be harder than transition within the Army? Ahead of us lies the great unknown: when/where will the next job be a real thing, where will we live, will I have to go back to work after 13 years of being a stay at home mommy? It’s like this big blank canvas. I’ve become so comfortable with the Army painting that canvas for us, in fact our entire relationship of 20 years has been canvased by the military’s paintbrush. Now before us lies this great, vast landscape. What do we paint on it? What colors do we use? What type of brush? It’s OVERWHELMING.

This has been my most hands on lesson for trusting in God to date. Pondering the what ifs, the unknown, the uncertainty drains me. It sucks me dry. I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to maintain a positive outlook on this amazing adventure (state those that have not yet “transitioned” out). Apparently I am resembling a prune more and more these days, per my hubby. Not his actual words, more his concerned looks across the table while he plugs away on his laptop on all that entails “transitioning”. As a frail, imperfect human being, I can only maintain a sense of “everything is great, it will all be ok, God will provide, etc” for a period of time.  I think this prune is officially dried up and about to fall off the plum tree. Reality is setting in and there is no short, easy transition. It is truthfully long, hard, exhausting, emotionally draining and mentally taxing.

As for being “pruned,” not necessarily a fun, joyful process I might add. It hurts, it sucks and I don’t like it at all. But if I chew on its definition again I revisit the purpose of pruning: to encourage growth by cutting away dead or overgrown branches. Ideally I’d rather be pruned then end up a prune. That being said, what does one do having discovered they are becoming dried and shriveled up like a prune? I cannot speak for anyone other than myself. I read somewhere that unless I’m taking good care of myself, I will be unable to take care of those I love well. I read that and felt as if someone had thrown a prune at me , as if to say, “Wake up, Jami! You’re not doing anyone you care about any good by allowing yourself to become shriveled and dried up.”

Soooooo, here I sit blogging after a year break, tada! I also have a stack of books by my side that are crying out, “Put down your phone and read me!” Then there’s the desperate need to go SHOPPING, alas when one is transitioning, funds are not budgeted for “prune-like wife in need of a shopping spree.” These are just a few things that help me feel more filled up and less dried out, and I plan to spend time doing them, well except for spending all our savings, on a more regular basis.

How about you?? Are you dried up like a prune, in the process of being pruned? I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts! 

Happy 17th Anniversary, Jose!

  Today marks 17 years that we have been married. It’s insane to consider that in only 3 years we will have been married 20. I wish I could say it’s been perfect and without trial, sorrow or pain, but we both know that would be deceptive. No, our marriage has been richly colored with the strokes of compromise, sacrifice, brokenness, hurt, disappointment, anger, shattered trust, and unfulfilled dreams. I truly believe, however, the canvas of our marriage would be a colorless and lifeless masterpiece without all those things. When we first married, we naively rushed in, thinking marriage would make us happier than we had ever been, more fulfilled and satisfied than we could have hoped. In truth marriage has been harder, more challenging, at times with intense periods of suffering and silence as well as multiple, drawn out separations. To some our marriage would seem pointless, not worth pursuing or even hopeless if they truly knew our hardest and darkest moments. But Jose, you and I know the honest truth. It is only because of all that we have been through, all that we have endured, all that we have had to forgive each other of and the slow and painful process of rebuilding trust, re-establishing reconciliation and restoration, that our marriage is what it is today, 17 hard earned years later. Our marriage is not a fairy tale. We haven’t always been able to find our happy ending at the end of a long, silent and hurtful day. We have hurt each other in ways that no one else can. We have said and done things that we can never take back.  How is it then that we can even be here on this day celebrating our 17^th anniversary, another one separated by miles and oceans too? We both know the answer. There can only ever be one answer for a marriage like ours to not only survive all of the storms we have weathered, but thrive in them. The answer is Jesus. How sweet and good it has been to watch Him work miracles in our marriage day after day and year after year. He alone has been our source of hope, joy and peace both as individuals when we were not functioning as one and as a couple. His grace continues to infuse us with everything we need to forgive time and time again, step towards one another after hurt time and time again, reach out and be reconciled over and over, and pull each other up and out of our despair. I think I can honestly say to you, Jose, without the blood of Jesus Christ in our marriage, we would no longer BE married. My deepest hope and desire for our marriage is that this amazing, rich and colorful masterpiece that God has created will be a source of light, hope and encouragement to other marriages for the rest of our lives. May we continue to partner together with a Kingdom mentality. That means both of us walking side by side with the knowledge that this life was given to us for the purpose of glorifying God and enjoying Him forever. May we do that well Jose and may we BOTH hear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” I love you baby. Through thick and thin, to hell and back, our marriage has endured and only by the grace of God will it continue to do so. Here’s to the next 50 years together, Jose!

Goodnight

I should be asleep, head on my pillow softly breathing. I need that recharge. The littles don’t know when I haven’t had enough sleep at night to pause before entering my room bright and early seeking me out. How would they know that while they slept peacefully I struggled through the night with too many thoughts, tears, and the dreaded self-pity party? I suppose I could chalk it up to hormones, a busy day or too much caffeine. But whatever the cause I find myself now typing away madly, hoping to catalog my woes and leave them here so I can crawl back into bed and close my eyes and sleep. There’s no one here except me, these thoughts, and Jesus. Yes, Jesus you are enough and all I need for every moment both good and bad. You made me to be an intricate, emotional and wordy individual though. So here I sit at 1am plunking away at this laptop. Random thoughts seem random. For me, right now, on this dark night, as I type by the light of my keyboard, I feel the relief oozing in. What am I even typing about? I don’t really know, don’t care. I just feel better getting it out. Being thankful works miracles for a downtrodden soul.

I’m thankful for healthy babies.

I’m thankful for smiles on their faces.

For hugs and giggles

For loud voices outside in the cul-de-sac

For a busy, productive day

For friends far and close

For my hubby’s face on my phone

For songs that seem to know me

For a whispered “I love you Mommy.”

For peace in my heart

For peace in my home

For eyes that have stopped leaking

For pillows to catch my tears

For good morning messages left by my baby

For this, words on paper, thoughts bled out, self-pity sneaking out my door, peace settling on my spirit and my bed calling me back to its warmth.

Goodnight.

Words

       Well hello my old but new friend, my blog. I know it's been awhile. I know I committed to reach out to you at least once a month. I'm sorry. I could list a litany of excuses to justify why my efforts have been sorely lacking. Truthfully I feel like we shouldn't meet up unless I have something AMAZING to share with you. I get lost in all the other phenomenal blogs out there and easily fall prey to comparing and falling short of their quality, skill and finesse. I mean, let's be honest, I am no gifted writer. I am but a humble girl, looking to put my thoughts down on paper. I use to fill journal after journal with all the tidbits, dreams, prayers and random thoughts floating around in my head and heart. Sadly now my writing ability with a pen is almost nonexistent. I started this blog to pick that old hobby back up. I intended to dust it off and pick up right where I left off in my last leather bound journal. Nope. Dropped that one real quick. Typing my random thoughts on a laptop almost seems cheap and not as artistic. I love watching the ink spill onto the paper, I like seeing pages filled, and stacks of various journals. However, not blogging is only adding to my misery. My thoughts fill me up like water sometimes that needs to be poured out. When I don't intentionally let them seep out whether on paper or here on this laptop, they start to turn stagnant. There's nothing fresh that can be poured in if that makes any sense. 

       So my neglected friend, my fledgling blog . . . I am going to make a commitment to you. I promise to spend some more quality time with you. Especially with my beloved off in another country doing that amazing thing he does, serving selflessly. 
        I miss that man something fierce. Whew. Now there's a place I can pour out all my random wonderings and he so patiently sits there and sifts through them all, pulling out the treasures and setting aside the nonsense. That man, over the past 19 years of loving me, has become a skilled listener, a tenderhearted ear for me to whisper my most precious secrets too. He holds my heart securely in his unconditional love. He wipes my tears. He holds my hand. He gives me his undivided attention. I'm crying now just thinking of all he is to me and all he does for me. Sweet Jesus, what a gift you've given me in this husband. This man, my beloved, helped birth this newborn blog before he left us. He tells me time and time again my words are powerful. He tells me my words encourage his spirit to get back up and stay the path one more day. 

The tongue can bring death or life Proverbs 18:21

The very next verse blows me away. Is it possible that simply by speaking words of encouragement over my beloved that I am bringing favor into his life, and blessing him?

The man who finds a wife finds a treasure,

    and he receives favor from the Lord. Proverbs 18:22

      Whenever I blog, good stuff happens. It's a letting of my soul. Almost like a seeping a wound. Stuff leaks out and immediately I'm feeling relief. It amazes me sometimes when I just force myself to sit and type, not even knowing what to type, out it flows. Before I know it I'm typing faster and faster until my fingers can barely keep up with thoughts pouring out.

Let's be honest blog, this is therapeutic for me, isn't it? I'm an old soul. I need to write down my inner voice. The voice that should speak up and out loud more. But that's another blog, for another day.

THIS IS WAR

      My hubby is the soldier, he’s the one out there even now working with others to defend, protect and strengthen. I don’t give myself enough credit. I am a soldier too, on the front lines in fact, fighting an enemy that strives to steal, kill and destroy everything good thing in my life and those of my loved ones.

        As a busy mama, a single one right now, I often get lost in the nitty gritty of dealing with all that gets thrown at me from a hundred different directions. I tune out the reality of the spiritual world I live in and instead point my finger and blame a myriad of things- germs, the weather, my hubby’s absence, my neighbors, my emotions, the list goes on. Meanwhile the craziness continues and I become overly exhausted, frustrated, angry, bitter and disheartened. This lofty goal I made to THRIVE and not just survive this coming year has so far yet to make an appearance!

      I forgot a vital piece of truth, a life sustaining, enemy shattering, victory making, joy-releasing truth. Thriving will come at a cost. If I want to see its fruit in my life and the lives of my family members, and even my community, I have a significant role to play. Thriving can only truly come through the powerful act of prayer and fighting for it. Like my picture of a bloodied warrior and her sword, I have to have a soldier mentality in my home, in my heart, in my marriage, in my neighborhood! Everywhere I walk, I will take ownership of that spiritual atmosphere and declare WAR with the enemy of my soul!

     So this is just a marker for me. I am drawing the line. This far and no more, Enemy. You will have no more power over me and my family, my hubby, my home or my neighborhood! You’ve messed with the wrong prayer warrior, with the wrong worshiper. I know you’re already defeated, HA! From here on I am taking responsibility for the atmosphere of my heart and everywhere I go in the name of your defeater JESUS CHRIST. THIS IS WAR.