GOOD-BYE FACEBOOK

SOCIAL MEDIA- it has become such a foul taste in my mouth. I've come to the place where I dread even opening my Facebook account for fear of the latest political backlash, COVID-19 conspiracy theory, racial horror, human trafficking atrocity, and the list goes on and on. Social media use to be a place of joy where I could catch up with old friends, and browse through pictures of my family members. I enjoyed sharing updates on our family's life. Lately, I avoid it like the plague. As I've pulled more and more away from it, I've been chewing on the idea of closing my social media accounts altogether. 

God has been stirring up in me the idea of  "smallness". I sense Him calling me to look closer and be more intentional with those in my life, at home, across the street, in my community, the local grocery store, etc. Social media is not small. It is larger than life, and I truly believe there cannot be authentic community on a platform where you can cast your opinions, thoughts, and words out so carelessly and not have to consider the cost of them. When we gather in the culdesac, or around the table, we are forced to consider the heart of the person across from us, where we can witness the brunt of our words on their faces and in their lives.

I cannot do life with my neighbor transparently or vulnerably from behind my screen. I do not have to contemplate the weight of what I type and share with others. I can cast it out for all the word to see and think to myself, I haven't hurt anyone, who cares? I have a RIGHT!

As a Christian, I am called to "love God with all of my heart, all my soul, all my strength, and all my mind. AND love my neighbor as myself." Luke 10:27. How can anyone truly love their neighbor as themself on a social media platform, from a personal agenda? I wonder if Jesus were here, now, in this time, would He be on social media? I have to believe He would not. He would be among people, present, talking with them, touching them, and in community with them. Jesus was all about "smallness". He ministered to the crowds, yes, but He did life and discipled only 12, and had three men that were his closest friends. How can I be like Christ on social media? How can I love Him and love others as Jesus loved us on social media? I cannot answer that question. I cannot justify my need for social media and I refuse to bend to its demands anymore

My children are my legacy. What legacy am I leaving them? That question causes me to pause and evaluate how I do life with them and others. Am I teaching them to look up, look out, to see the person in front of them, and to do life with that person? Or am I teaching them that in order to be seen, heard, and valued, they must be on social media and promote their agendas loud, no matter who it hurts? I want my children to see the effect of their words and actions on the people around them, not through a screen. It starts with me. 

 I challenge you to consider your need for social media. What is your agenda, what is behind it? Does social media define you? Can you truly present the real you on social media? Someone out there, next door, across the street, or at work, needs to meet the true you, the authentic you. The one that cries in pain and rejoices in victories. Go be that person to someone you can see, face to face. Do life with them. Watch the world change. 

If you know me well enough, we have done life together in some manner. You know how to connect with me outside of social media. I look forward to it.

Back to Normal?

Despite the efforts of COVID-19 and social media advising otherwise, my 5 children have officially gone back to school, face to face, after 6 months. I have had mixed feelings. After 6 months of being together, I assumed I would be exuberant that the house would be empty and quiet again, and not to mention CLEAN. There has been some of that but I've realized something about myself. When I am alone for extended periods of time, and left to my own thoughts, I can feel a sense of sadness creep in and I quickly try to shove it down, telling myself I should be happy and leaping through the house singing at the top of my lungs. Well, it just isn't so for me, at least not yet.

This is when I can wrestle with old lies and a skewed belief system that says I derive my worth and value from my works and the roles I fill. When all of the children are gone, I have struggled with feeling like I have no purpose, if I sit in this uncomfortable feeling too long I may even begin to dabble in the idea of going "back to work", whatever that means after being out of the workforce since 2005. 

So, today I am wrestling with that. God you are always gracious and tender with me, and I am so thankful for that. Help me to rest in you even as I wrestle with my discomfort in these eerily silent moments. 

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.