Doing it on my own

Well here we are. Four plus months into a six month deployment. It has honestly gone by faster than I imagined. I'm now worried about readjusting back to having a husband instead of worrying about how I'll handle him being gone. Don't get me wrong I'm thrilled he's coming home. No more lonely evenings (although a friend on Yahoo has helped me with that), no more taking care of a sick child while I'm sick also, no more frantically finding a babysitter when I have class on the weekend. Someone to rub my back and hold my hand and to lay next to in bed even when he's on my side. Someone to complain that I haven't vacuumed in a week. Someone to get upset that the house isn't as clean as he'd like. Someone who bought me a diamond ring for our ten year anniversary just because it was what I wanted. Someone who has helped my dreams come true. Someone with smelly ugly feet but a heart as big as the outdoors.

I've missed having him home for so many reasons. Reasons I'll need to remember as I learn how to be a spouse again in a little less than two months.

I thought I would do better on writing on here. You know the journal type thing, but as life took over my memory got shorter and my time was spent doing other things.

It's been an interesting four months. We've been sick with the flu. We've had more snow than I've seen in years. We'll have a white Christmas, which I haven't had since 1986 when I lived in Germany with my parents. We celebrated ten years of marriage on separate continents and in separate time zones. We've skyped and emailed and telephoned. We've had our good moments. We made cookies together and sent some to daddy. We've gone to McDonald's to play and got bitten yet again. We've missed daddy and his presence. We've bonded and gotten a relationship that will only grow, I hope.

I look at my daughter and I cry because I want to hold onto her now and keep her as sweet and caring as she is today. She's funny and intelligent and creative and thoughtful and sassy (her word) and bossy and she has an attitude at times, but I love everything about her. I've learned a lot about her since hubby's been gone. I've learned she likes to sit in my lap and watch SpongeBob after her bath and before she goes to bed. I've learned she can write an awesome "M". I'm learning again how sensitive she is (I wonder who she gets that from). I'm learning how smart she is and how she loves to read. I'm learning that she likes Max & Ruby almost as much as SpongeBob. I've learned that she is a girly girl, she loves dresses and fingernail polish.

I've enjoyed getting to know her these past few months and I hope that when my husband comes home that my bonding with her continues, only now we have to share that time with daddy. I'll be sure and let you know how that goes.

Deep Thoughts

I'm supposed to be writing a paper. Yet here I am with a mind full of everything but 20th Century politics. I am a huge MASH fan. HUGE!! Just ask anyone who knows me. When hubby and I were cast into hell, I mean living in Havasu, Arizona we watched every episode of MASH from beginning to end. Why you may ask? Because we had no TV reception. Tonight as I sat watching it they closed with a song:
Keep the Home Fires Burning,
While your hearts are yearning,
Though your lads are far away
They dream of home.
There's a silver lining
Through the dark clouds shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out
'Til the boys come home.

I couldn't even make it through the song. I heard the first few lines of the chorus and I was toast. With hubby gone for his six months, the timeline between hearing those kind of songs and bursting into tears has shortened quite considerably. It has me thinking of war. Part of which I'm doing my paper on, or supposed to be working on. Anyway... I was caught up in the war justification back in 2001. It's been seven years and we are hopefully seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Was it successful, I think that is justifiably questionable. It's been said that the media take was dampened quite a bit in the Persian Gulf War. George Bush the elder made sure that the bad news didn't get to us as readily as it has this war. Technology advances have us finding out within minutes what is going on on the other side of the world. Most of the time it's so completely blown out of proportion that you have to take it with a grain of salt. These days I can talk to my hubby on the phone through the use of morale calls. Or I can skype with him and see his pretty face... (lol) or they have the phone centers. We know we are blessed. A friend of ours wasn't so blessed. Her hubby's last few tours were of the non communicado type for the length of the tour. Where am I going with this you ask. Where am I going with this... ? As I sat reading my daughter her bedtime story. She picked the book, Old Turtle by Douglas Wood. I highly recommend these. We got to the middle of the story and this is what I read: "But the people forgot. They forgot that they were a message of love, and a prayer from the earth...and often the people misused their powers, and hurt one another. Or killed one another. And they hurt the earth...Because the people could not remember who they were, or where God was." It's naive for me to assume that God can make all things better. In the ideal world, before the fall, maybe. But in this world we live in where there is much evil and much hatred we have to be stewards of what we are given. Taking care of the earth and of each other. I believe in that God would shine through. We don't need to shove it down people's throats, no standing on street corners thumping our ten pound bibles in peoples faces. What happened to living by example? I think we as American's have neglected our duties of stewardship, drilling for oil in the Arctic, denying that climate change is real, forcing our version of democracy on other people? American's are an ethno-centric people. We think people should accomadate themselves to our thinking. Spread democracy and everyone will get along? Who are we to think our way is better than anyone elses? I love being American, please don't misread what I'm saying. I value my freedom's of religion and speech and many more. Nowhere on earth can I voice my opinion and let it stand as that without some sort of consequences. That's all I'm doing here, I want people to be educated about other countries, our way is not always the right way.

One Moment In Time

Many of you may remember the song by Whitney Houston that came out in the 80's called, One Moment In Time. I think the original music video showed clips from the Olympics, they redid it showing the Challenger disaster years later. Anyway.... tonight I had my moment in time. First I have to set up the day. I am currently taking classes for a Master's Degree. This program is different in that we have our classes on the weekends and the University flies in it's professors. I'll write more about these at a later time. So, this weekend was my second class in the program and my first class with hubby deployed. My class meets Friday night, 9-5ish on Saturday and 9-4 on Sunday. So I have been gone pretty much the whole weekend. Tonight (Sunday) I also had the Contemporary Worship Service which I have to be there to practice at 5:00. *sigh* Needless to say it's my first 12 hour day in a while. I didn't get home until 8:15sh and I left the house this morning at 8:30. Sheesh!!!

With my hubby gone I had to find someone to watch my daughter. I was able to find a great girl from the service and my daughter loved being with her so much she didn't want to come home yesterday or today. The girl watching her took her out to the car and saved me much crying and screaming... my daughter still did her share of crying but I think it was better then yesterday. So tonight we had our service, a little more stressful this first time without hubby, but I made it. Our daughter did her running around thing and just being herself, wanting to be with all her "friends." She had her new fairy outfit on which included her wings, so as I'm looking at her in her seat I see her wings. Enough to make you smile right there. So a friend of ours and her husband help me get her to the car because she had skinned her foot on her shoes. We head home. She immediately asks for Spongebob on TV after we get home and I clean her up and brush her teeth, I do give in and say yes. I stopped it after one episode which led to more tears, to avoid the arguing and crying I knew was coming I turn on the TV, but I tell her no story tonight. Knowing that it's probably not going to work out the way I want it anyway. So as Sponbob, as she pronounces it , goes off she asks for another one. I'm firm in my no this time. And she starts to whine about wanting a story. So I tell her yes. You knew when you read the above that I would actually read to her didn't you? So I pick the book, a nice short one, and she's crying. No tears, but she's crying. So I give it to her to read and she dribbles her way through it. We say our prayers, remembering daddy and wanting her to sleep well.

As I turn out the lights and lay her down I just held her. Nothing more. It wasn't planned, I just wrapped my arms around her and held her. Just for about two minutes. I then layed down next to her and she wrapper her arms around me asked me if I missed daddy. It was all I could do to keep the wrenching sobs inside. My heart was aching so much. I told her, yes I missed daddy. She then reminded me that we take care of each other and that daddy will be back for her birthday and then her friends will be at her party. :) (She remembers the important stuff.) So I just held her. I wrapped her in my arms and she fell asleep as I sang our song to her.

I write this here and share it because I am #1 at rushing through my day and putting off the times when she needs me. I get anxious about getting things done and wanting me time. I don't want to look back when she's 20 and say if only I had spent more time with her. Maybe that's what I'll get from this six month experience... an appreciation of my own daughter.

Day by day

We're making it through one day at a time. A long time ago I was a newlywed. It will be ten years in December. Holy cow!! I can hardly believe it myself when I think back over the past ten years we've had together. Somewhere along the way I gave my hubby a note. I used to do that a lot. Much more than I do today. Somehow family and work and careers got in the way of our road to happily ever after. We realized this the other day as hubby got ready to deploy. We were holding hands more and watching each. We were sleeping huddled together instead of in our separate corners. This note was a quote from a book a dear friend had given me, The Notebook. This was before it was glamorized on the big screen of Hollywood, back when Nicholas Sparks was just being discovered. Here is what I gave him:

"In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you, and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry, I cry and when you hurt, I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods of tears and despair and make it through the potholed streets of life."

I wish I had written the date on the note so I know when it was given. So as I look back on what was to come after this note, I'll not take him for granted. We lost a daughter after this note. She never made it into the world, but we mourned her as she if she had. We made it through life in the desert, our wilderness experience, out of which came the biggest blessing we've ever seen- our daughter. Career changes have come. Economic lows have come. Now we've arrived at a huge growing experience. Six months of being away from each other. The longest we've ever been apart is ten weeks and then he was only right up the road. This time he's very far off. We're only three days into it. He's my best friend, we tell each other everything. We lay in bed at night and talk about our future together, about our daughter and how fabulous three year olds are. Our plan is to grow old together... "as we make it through the potholed streets of life".

How Do You Worship?

How do you pay homage to God? What is your worship style? Are you the Contemporary Worship type of person? Traditional? Liturgical? (My hubby's in the ministry that's how I know the big words.) Anyway... how do you make that connection with the Almighty? Do you make the connection? Do you wait for the warm fuzzy to know that you've been worshipping today? Is it just your socialization tool? Is it your clique? Do you make connections with others while you're there?

For many worship is the place you visit on the holiday's. Christmas and Easter. You really don't know your minister's/priest's name. He could have moved and you think the new guy is him. There are those who are on the other end of the spectrum that are at church whenever the doors are open. This is how my hubby and I were brought up. Involved in every activity the church has to offer. Then there are those that want to make it church and just find stuff getting in the way. You worked all week and you want that extra day to laze around and watch TV. Sometimes you make it to worship and enjoy the experience and get on a roll and then you have a rough week at work and you just don't go. It gets easier not to go so you quit for a while. What about those of us whose spouses are ministers and are expected to be there every Sunday rain or shine tornado or sun... kinda like the mailman. Anyway... you're expected to take part in the activities be it Sunday school teacher, choir member, nursery worker, or children's church leader.

I say all this because my worship experience is lacking. I don't seem to "fit" into my surroundings and I can't seem to get past that. It's my fault that I can't seem to connect. I've lived here for over a year and attended the same service all that time. I don't connect with many in the parish. I don't connect with the service even though I sing in the choir. Now due to other responsibilities I attend the service alone. How many people attend a service looking for a connection with someone? Only to never find it. How many go looking for God but experience so many cliques that they don't feel they belong? They think maybe God only wants a certain type of person. They have to be beautiful and married and successful. They need to have the 2.4 kids and the two dogs at home. They have to drive the SUV and be involved up to their eyeballs in the community. Is this the person Jesus reached out to? What about the woman at the well? The leper? The blind men he made see? None of these people were well known in the social circles. Most if not all were ostracized by the community. Where are those people in our churches today? Are we reaching out to them? Or are we sooo happy that Matilda will be there today so we can wear those fabulous shoes we just bought and show them off? When did we forget God? When did we learn to put our social standing above our eternal standing?

I am guilty. Guilty of caring to much about what I look like when I go. Guilty of wanting to be liked and be in the IN group. Guilty of that and so much more. I've personally forgotten what's it's like to have a great worship exerience. I want one so badly I could cry.

Just wondering outloud...

I tried to look up the percentage of American's married. The last census in 1990 came up with something like 55.6 % of American's are married. That's a tad bit over half. There's also the statistic of how close to 50% of marriages end in divorce. So if that's the case... who's staying married?

In two months I will be celebrating my 9th wedding anniversary. That means next year will be 10 years. I can hardly believe it. 10 sounds so much more official and daunting in my book. I recently described what has happened in the almost nine years of marriage. I didn't explain the day to day. The small that stuff that we irritate each other with. Whether it be leaving clothes beside the bed instead of in the hamper (not me). Or is it that the label organized mess has been permanently attached to how your spouse describes you. (guilty) You know when PMS comes around there'll be more arguments and less liking each other. Just like you know when the other is mad when there needs are not met. What is it that holds a marriage together? When the little things add up and you just want to scream at the other person. What makes you stay? My parents divorced when I was twelve years old. They each have their own reasons and their own stories. It is probably why I am terrified of divorce. Yet there have been moments when the idea has been appealing. I know I say this for both of us. You look at where you are and wonder if you are both going in the same direction. Do you have the same goals in life? Are you happy? (Now that's a loaded question.) I know for us there are times when only one of us is holding it together. It is scary... but it also real. You trust this person with your life. With your childs life. With your future. Thus far for us the thought of staying together outweighs the thought of going it alone. I know it's not the case for everyone. I don't get angry at those people who resort to divorce like I did when it happened to my family. I've been there. I've had those thoughts of just giving up. When you just reach the point where you don't care anymore. Then I breathe and I step back and take time. I realize that I love my hubby with everything in me. I may not especially like him at the moment, but I know life without him is not something I want to contemplate. We can sit in the same room and be very upset at each other and know that we still love each other. I've learned much in these nine years. He has taught me a lot. He has taught me to be honest with my feelings and know that as scary as they may be I'm entitled to them. They are mine and no one can take them from me. He's taught me to love even when I don't like. I thought you couldn't do that. I thought you had to love all the time. I'm happy to tell you what a freeing experience that is. It gives you the freedom to be angry and upset and not like them. But they are still there for you when you come in and say "I'm sorry".

Much love to you today!

Peace~

What Owns Your Soul?

It's late here. Almost midnight. My hubby and I just had one of those heart to heart deep connecting talks. Talking about death. About living life. Now I have words in my head that want to come out and this is where I choose to unleash it.

How do I want to be remembered? What owns my soul? What owns your soul? Revenge? Sex? That next promotion? Dieting? Depression? There's so many things out there that influence who we are. There are millions of decisions being made every day. Some conscious. What do I wear today? Breakfast? Some unconscious. Get in the right lane to turn. Brush my hair. What is life treating you to? I told hubby tonight that I can completely understand the concept of mid-life crisis. I read it defined as, the time of life when you look back on your life and see if you have accomplished all that you have wanted. Are you content with your lot in life? Do you have regrets? I don't want to get to a point in my life where I have a list of regrets. Yet at the same time. Why have a list? Why aren't we living each day to the fullest and taking things as they come. Why aren't I cherishing each moment I'm given? Why do I feel like I'm waiting for some cataclysmic occurrence to happen before I can feel like I'm living my life? What am I waiting for? To become famous? To be known the world over? WHY??? Why do so many people want to be famous? So that we can be remembered? To have all the money and stress that goes with fame? To be liked? To be envied? I speak all these things to myself before I speak them to you. I ask myself these same things. When I should be asking... how do I want my daughter to remember me? Life is passing me by so fast. I'm missing so much of my daughters life because I'm searching for something I will probably never have. Tonight she was singing happy birthday in the car. She doesn't say all the words yet but she can get out birthday and happy and to you. It was so precious. I wanted to take that moment in time and hold on to it. I want to keep this in my mind forever. Yet I know it will fade and new memories will take it's place. I want her to be this precious and innocent forever.

Our world is constantly telling us that we need to be reaching for the next goal. We need that promotion. Life will be so much better when I am skinny. You too can be skinny if you just take this pill. Why are we never happy in the moment? Can we not cherish what we are? I struggle with this. I'm trying to learn to like me the way I am. I want to work out for the sake of health not because I'm still trying to drop baby weight. I want to realize that the shape I'm in produced the most beautiful little girl I could imagine. She came from me. She's a part of me. She has made me what I am today. I don't want her growing up hearing me complain about how I look. I want to love myself for her sake as well as my own. I don't want her to think that being skinny owns my soul.

I think there may be people who get to the end of their lives and wish they had lived more. Spent more time learning who they are. They wish they had more time to just be themselves. Who cares what demands the world puts on you? Do you think someone wishes they had tried that other diet when they younger? Learning to love yourself for you who you are will be the one thing that helps you through your mid-life crisis.

So again I ask you. What owns your soul?

Treasuring those close to you

My hubby and I have been married eight and a half years. Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself. We've experienced a lot of ups and downs in our history together.

We met while he was in college. I had just graduated and was still in the transition period of graduation and real world. Looking for a job. Our first date was May 22. We went to one of the local tourist areas around the college. Had a nice dinner. I started my very first ever official job on July the sixth. Only to come home and have my boyfriend break up with me. I was horrified! It was a Monday. By Friday he was begging me to take him back... no seriously. He couldn't stay away! HA! We went to Wendy's that Friday and we've been together since.

We tell people now that the first year we were married was the hardest we have ever gone through. It still holds true to this day. When you're blending two very independant people and tossing in extra baggage you're sure to come up with some interesting stuff. We survived.

He graduated with his BA in our second year of marriage. Only to have us move to another school for him to work on a Master's Degree. I worked and put him through five years of school. When we were dating there was so much negativity tossed at us because they assumed once we were married he wouldn't finish school. Some friends huh?

We have had some knock down drag out fights. We've pushed and shoved and yelled and cursed. We've said some things that would make your ears turn red. We've been through counseling both before and after we got married. It was probably the best thing we ever did for our marriage.

In 2002 we found out we were pregnant. I cried. I was so not ready to be a mother. I didn't want to do it. When the doctor told me I was horrified. We were having some marital difficulties at the time and we thought this would solve everything. Give us something to put our energy and our love into. I went in for my OBGYN visit and the doc decided to do an ultrasound. He was crazy about the things. Anyway... things didn't look to great. He wanted me to come back the next week. We did. The next visit it was confirmed that we were having a miscarriage. We were devestated. We had finally gotten used to the idea of being parents and were actually happy about it. Now this!! We neither one can remember how we got home that day. My hubby drove us home and I think we never went over 45 mph on the interstate.

That night we had an experience I will never forget. We had an old house that we were renting. We were lucky enough to have a porch swing. I loved sitting on it when it rained. Well it was starting to rain so I went outside. Had my blanket and was swinging and my hubby came out to sit. The rain got heavier and you could hear the thunder coming. As we sat out there on that porch swing we experienced a rain storm like I will never forget. It came in. It surrounded us. It passed us. It was the most spiritual experience I've ever had. God was in that storm. He talked to us and soothed us. We sat there well after it had stopped not wanting the moment to pass. We felt peace. Finally we felt peace.

How do you come back from this? How do you press on? One day at a time. It will be five years this fall since this experience. And I can tell you the whole thing is as real now as it was then.

We have a daughter now. We got pregnant before we moved in 2004. This time it was perfect. We were happy. We knew she would be the icing on the cake... not the glue that held us together. Our daughter we lost was names Eliora (meaning God is my light). We now had a new light.

A lot of time has passed and we have grown. I tell this story as a memory that made me stronger. That made my hubby and I closer.

We both share a love of Nicholas Sparks books. Early on I found a passage that has come to mean a lot to us both. Here it is. It's from The Notebook:

"In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you
and rock you, and take your grief and make it
my own. When you cry, I cry, and when you
hurt, I hurt. And together we will try to hold
back the floods of tears and despair and make
it through the potholed streets of life."

PT not for the feignt of heart

Well after taking a few days off of the PT (potty training) we're back in it full swing. Today my daughter found her underpants on her dresser so she brought them to me so I would put them on her. We put them on and I tried to let her know she needed to tell me when she had to go peepee or what have you. A little while later I heard the lid on her potty, I thought, "she has the hang of this, this is going to be so much easier then people tell me." Enter daddy. The hubby comes home and we sit down for dinner (she's still in her underpants, not diaper or pull-up). Hubby thinks she has pooped in her underwear, but it ends up being just bubbles (gas). So she comes to me a little later and says something about poopy... so I ask her if she poopooped? She said no, but hubby says take her anyway so off we go. Well I forgot that sometimes she says poopy but MEANS peepee. So she's had an accident in her pants and new underpants. So I take them off of her and put on a new pair. She then walks around the house for a while and a little later is standing by the coffee table over by her daddy. When I hear this mad dripping sound on the carpet. AGH!!!! Daddy jumps up and I start laughing. I can't help it. You should have heard it. It sounded like when our cats use the litter box and the urine hits the litter. Only it's our daughter standing in the living room. HAHA I can't help but laugh. So I told him it was his turn. While he's doing that I clean up the rug... still laughing mind you. Only to have her come back in the room about 10-15 minutes later and want me to pick her up. I told her I would hold her but she wasn't to pee on me. After a few minutes I put her down, I look around her cause she's standing funny and she has peepee running down her leg. I frustratingly say her name and haul her up and take her off to the bathroom. Hubby from the living rooms yells, don't get mad at her. So I start to laugh hysterically at this point. I then replace the underwear with pull ups for the night. I think three pair of underwear is enough to go through in one evening.

All this to say, "WE HAVE TO STAY STRONG... WE WILL SUCCEED... WE WILL NOT LET THIS DEFEAT US." Maybe somewhere along the line I'll convince myself.