21 years

 Here is the status I shared on my social media platform. February 1 of this year marked 21 years of "after" days. I'm so deeply thankful for each one.

21 years ago today I didn’t know I had lived my last “before day.” I didn’t know that life would be defined as before and after February 1, 2005. I used to want to go back to what it was. To be the person I was, with the possibilities of what life could be. Now, I have no desire to go back to being that girl, the girl before my brain exploded. She was naive and scared and probably would have had a nervous breakdown. Do I miss having a fully functioning brain without injury? Yes, of course, I do. It would be silly not to. My story is not at all about me; my very existence cannot be explained by the medical community. It’s not about me being strong or doing anything particularly amazing. God spared my life in the most unusual way. So, don’t count yourself out. I was probably the last person anyone would have chosen for anything. But God...

20 Years ago on the first

Better late than never. I decided to post this on my blog as well as social media. On the first, my hubby and I were living. We went to a quaint little town on a lake near us and did a little shopping, then out to dinner to complete or little day trip.  The day as light-hearted, but filled with lots of big and hard emotions about the journey to get here. February 5th I had a follow-up appointment with my neurosurgeon.  It had been five years since my last scan. Because of the complexity of my case, I still have a scan every five years.  While we weren't expecting there to be a problem, you just never know.  Thankfully, the scans came back with no evidence of residual aneurysm and the ventricles looked stable. We are praising God, as always, for this good news.  I have determined in my mind that this year I'm just going to live. I'm going to say, I'd yes, to as much as I can, and I'm going to fully experience life. I definitely haven't taken a single day for granted. 

Twenty years ago today, I was still in a hospital bed, not out of the woods yet.  Twenty years ago 😳🤯 (February 1) at this time my family had said goodbye to me. Doctors couldn’t believe I was even still alive. I wish I had something really profound to say today. I’m still sorting through profound gratefulness for being alive, not missing precious moments here, and the reality of living every day with struggles most people will never be able to understand. I’m truly not a particularly strong person, but I serve a God who is. He often uses His weakest links to show His great power. It blows my mind that the creator of the universe saw me, knew me, and spared my life in such a powerful way that day. Never think God can’t use you. Shy by nature, I generally am found in the background unnoticed and generally believe that to always be true. I’m going to be really real for a moment. My aneurysm burst at a point in my life when I was, honestly, possibly very near a nervous breakdown. I had landed in the ER, diagnosed with panic attacks. There were individuals that were putting enormous amounts of pressure on us to have kids (I mean, we had been married for a whole two years.) I believed it a wise stewardship to further my education in order to maintain a permanent teaching license; we were still so young. I had 5 years to secure my permanent certification. The pressures and voices of those around us were so demanding that I couldn’t discern what God truly wanted for me. I knew in my heart God had a plan, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t the “normal” path most people seemed to take. Still, I began questioning everything. Maybe I was “supposed” to want what God did not put in my heart? Maybe the demands were valid? It all seems so ridiculous now, but it was a terrible feeling. Those that were contributing to this choose to remain blissfully unaware to this day. As crazy hard as it is sometimes, I feel more like the person I was created to be today than I ever did before this wild journey. I am so thankful for my hubby, who has supported me and stayed with me. Our marriage isn’t perfect, just like every other marriage out there! We don’t have it all figured out, either, folks! But, I am daily thankful for our commitment to each other. So for today, I live in profound gratitude for being here and living this blessed life I’ve still been given!

19 years

The girl who started this post titled it "Don't suffer in silence." Because maybe she was mad that she let a few people in her life make her so miserable that she dreaded getting out of bed every morning. That silly, sweet girl just kept taking the unwelcome demands on her, to heart. She knew they were selfish and driven from a lack of grace but kept taking it. But, the girl writing it now had a nice chat with her friend and has decided to change the post significantly. So here it is:
January 31, 2005 was a Monday, according to Siri. I remember hating Monday more than most people. I had a whole new week ahead of me to survive. Perhaps, this was just preparing me for brain injury life. As I was driving yesterday to meet a friend, this thought came to my mind as the "Annie-versary" (the day of my aneurysm rupture but 19 years later) approached. Nineteen years ago, this would be my "last day" being the me that I was. The generally healthy but anxious creature trying to make her way through life the best way she knew how. The shy, but oh so friendly girl, if you got to know her. The girl full of laughs and potential. The girl wanting desperately to keep her teaching certification permeant even if she didn't use it immediately. The newly married girl who missed her college friends and family as she tried to navigate a new phase in life. And sure, there were a lot of really fantastic things about the 2005 version of me. I could paint a pretty rosy picture from my selective memory. But, I also immediately had this thought, too. If I'm honest, completely honest, I am happier now. I'll give you a minute to reread that.
The girl who started writing this had an entire page rehashing exactly why she was at a breaking point on January 31, 2005; coming unglued to the point of going to an ER for a severe panic attack in the weeks before that day. However, I deleted her writing. It no longer feels worth rehashing the hurt caused by the increasing demands to have children by people who have only showed me time and time again, they don't actually care about getting to know me, to see my heart and own the hurt they caused. So, that angry, hurt girl, well, she is still both of those things. But, she has found some peace in realizing that she is only responsible to steward what God has given her through the lens of "loving the Lord your God with all your heart and mind and loving others as yourself." I am far happier and more content now than I ever would have been meeting the demands of others, even IF they were well-intentioned beyond the terrible, intrusive and unwelcomed delivery. Someone once told me we are equally responsible for our intentions as we are for their impact. And so the journey continues. I hope my story is someone else's survival guide.

What is your story?

 Recently we moved.  Moving is rough on anyone. At the beginning, it reminded me of early on in my recovery. Everything was new, I had no idea where anything was or where I was going.  Thankfully, we moved to an area that was a little familiar to me and where I have deep family ties. Still, it was a really exciting day when I picked up a prescription and made it to the post office and then home without the help of GPS. GPS, itself, can be its own struggle.

Part of moving involves packing and inevitably SORTING! I struggle with making decisions, and making that many of them at once makes my brain hurt. Like physically hurt.  When you pull a muscle, it feels the same, but in your brain. I still have a few boxes I have been avoiding.  The other day, I decided to tackle one.  It was marked "Lisa childhood." That always interests me.  It's almost like digging through someone else's past.  Sure, I have my long term memory (Praise God!) but I feel like that person isn't me.  Part of surviving is letting go of who you were to embrace who you are.  And sure, that girl is a big part of me today.  Like everyone, our view of who we were is sometimes accurate and other times, not so much.  This is not profound, but the thing that struck me as I dug through that box was this; looking back I don't see myself as being as plain and ugly as I remember feeling.  Oh,  how insecure I remembered being.  I don't really ever remember feeling pretty. Not even on my wedding day. How sad is that? I felt better about myself than most days, but not like the stories you hear about putting on that dress and feeling beautiful (you should know I was maried two weeks after graduating from college, my last semester I was student teaching. I was tired and still working on my professional portfolio, looking and applying for jobs.) But, thinking back to prom, graduation, same thing. I looked at those pictures and I thought, I wasn't that ugly, certainly not to the degree that I felt it at the time.  Sure, I had my days of crooked teeth,  permed bangs and poor fashion choices, but I was/am far too hard on myself!

One Sunday in our new home church (which just happens to be the church my dad and his siblings grew up in) a friend of the family from decades ago told me I looked just like my aunt. I immediately knew exactly which aunt he was referring to. I would have been flattered to look like either of my beautiful aunts, but I know I particularly resemble one of them more.  I sent her a quick text telling her of the conversation and how I was flattered to remind our friend of her.  Her reply is that she was flattered to think she looks like me.  It's so funny how our perception of self can be so different. 

As long as I am combining what I intended to be several posts; recently, a theme or "nudging" has been on my heart.  It is simply this, "share your story." It has come up time after time since moving. This still, small voice started with a dear college friend visiting our new home. Some weeks later, she sent me a text that simply said, "When are you writing your book?" Share your story. It was affirmed in a podcast I listened to recently by Johanna Gaines on the release of her book, "The Stories we Tell."  I believe she said something like, we all have a story to tell.  The theme repeated last night at a dinner. The speaker was Sydna Masse' and she has a powerful story to tell. While she signed a copy of her book, she asked me, "what is your story?" I gave her the brief version, and her response was, "You should tell your story." My platform is small, but I'm trying. Sometimes, I just feel like that 'ugly' girl in the picture who nobody really sees anyway.  Then during our sermon today, our pastor reminded us of God asking Moses to lead his people. Moses felt unequal to the task and was uncertain.  God used the staff in his hand.  He turned it to a serpent. Moses was also privy to a burning bush and later the parting of the Red Sea, among other miracles.  How were these accomplished? God used whatever Moses had or what was right in front of him.  Because God uses what we have, exactly what we can give [what He has given us], and uses it for His glory. 

While my story is indeed unique, I was recently in SC on vacation with family.  My niece heard there were shark teeth to be found on the beach.  Because I love "sea treasures", I was happy to look for shark teeth.  At one point we were in what was apparently a popular area and there was a beach lined with people on their knees scooping up what the ocean brought in. This thought came to me, "we are all looking for the same thing." We are all looking for shark teeth, sure, but we are all humans and looking for our lives to count. We all want our story to matter. Likewise, we all need a Savior. Some are still looking. They can't or won't see what is right in front of them.  Someone has indeed died for their sins, and He wants to be found.  His name is Jesus.

What is your story?

"You have a brain injury," he said.

Alea iacta est "The die is cast"

Because I just like history and this story in a recent sermon caught my attention. It spoke to me for some reason. 

 The phrase “the die is cast” (Latin: Alea iacta est) is frequently used to signify that a decision has been made or the events have passed the point of no return. It is attributed by the Roman historian Suetonius to Julius Caesar but have you ever wondered what’s the origin of the phrase? Here’s the story. In 49 AD, Julius Caesar led his army across of a small river of Northern Italy, the Rubicon river. “Beyond this river, no flags, weapons or soldiers shall pass” read the inscription on the riverfront. You see, because Romans were afraid of coups, there was a Roman law that forbade crossing the Rubicon river and thus reaching the capital city of Rome. Pompey and Cicero already warned Caesar that he should go alone in the city, not with his army of the 13th legion. But Julius Caesar knew his fate. Political intrigues and bureaucrats would have killed him if he went alone. On the other hand, under the Roman law, crossing the river with his army meant that he and his legionaries were automatically sentenced to death. So he made his decision to cross the river with his army and said the famous phrase “the die is cast” as there was no turning back. For the record, Julius Caesar not only did he win the battle, but in just two months, the future dictator managed to take over the whole of Italy with almost no resistance. And he did it with just 50,000 men. Source: https://theuijunkie.com/die-is-cast-origin/

FOMO is back

 New York Magazine cover states that "FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out)" is back.  As the world starts to open back up I find my own anxiety creeping back in.  My neck constantly creeping up to my ears, fatigue a never failing friend and migraine auras back on the rise.  As a person who has had to choose to miss out on things, for the last 16 years for her own mental and physical health, the cancelled activities were refreshing in many ways.  The guilt over not being there gone.  Sure I hated the reason for it.  The sickness, fear, death, pandemic. But perhaps I am more of an introvert than I care to admit.  I enjoyed the social distancing, not hugging, hand washing/sanitizing (which I was always fanatical about anyway.)  I enjoyed less running around to appointments and instead having 'telehealth visits' in my living room. I always thought it was silly all the appointments I went to that could be easily taken care of without the need for me to run here and there! Everyone was now talking about a "new normal." To me it was just "again." I think at first people had a bit more compassion for what recovery looked like. And then the "Covid fatigue" hit them.  Yup people, it is exhausting every single day still.   Covid may one day no longer be a thing but there won't be a day this side of heaven that I won't live every day with an Acquired Brain Injury as my new normal.  I may fake it pretty well and make it look 'easy' but I assure you no matter what you see or choose to see, the struggle is still very real. It might not look exactly like your injury does.   Maybe even more exhausting now because the 'already exhausting' has a new layer to it.  During all of this I found a world renown concussion doctor via Instagram.  He had a lot of great insight and really seemed to "get it," so out of desperation, I wrote him about doctors in my area he would recommend.  His rely to me was something like, 'your recovery is going to be profoundly different than a concussion and treatment very different.' Thank you doctor for seeing me as an individual. Thank you for recognizing that each of us has a unique journey and while we share similar struggles it may actually be profoundly different.  Yours may not look like mine.  You may have hated the lonely isolation, the cancelled activities, your only outlet. It's okay, it is your journey, not mine. But I'll come along side you (at a distance of 6 feet, of course), if you need me. 

All of the social distacing and isolation from others does not, however, make the deeps hurts before magically disappear. Mother Teresa once said, "Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway." Before my aneurysm I was a "peacekeeper" NOT a 'peacemaker' like I should have been, a "people pleaser" that hated confrontation. I felt very uncomfortable with no nonsense, gruff , military like personalities.  Being an off- the-charts highly sensitive person, I was used to a softer more sensitive approach to life. When I didn't agree,  the people around me listened and we had polite discussions.  I did not find much of this approach to life after graduating from college.   I took things too personally and had no "coping device" like those around me for this new environment.  So as you can imagine, I naturally felt largely unheard and misunderstood.  To keep the peace for a number of years I just went along with it trying to justify ri myself why I must be wrong.  I tried to act unaffected and "fine."  It was only my hubby I trusted enough to know the truth. And by the time I was brave enough too share, the hurt and uncomfortable feelings I felt, it seemed too late.  He had a lifetime of developing coping skills of listening but not taking things too seriously and then simply living his life mostly unaffected.  The other noted approach was to just laugh everything off and also go along my own way. These don't develop over night, andd neither of them were for me! What did happen in a matter of seconds was an aneurysm that flooded my head with blood and did some serious damage.  My filter was gone just like that. I started to disagree. I started to share opinions I never would have before. They came out with much less tact and Grace than they would have if I shared them to begin with.  In a recent devotion the title was "Hurt people,Hurt people." GUILTY! I carried a whole lot of hurt. I didn't mean to hurt others but it did. What was hurt was judged by others as hate. I have wrestled with this for over a year now, given it to Jesus and known in my heart it wasn't hate. I have wept and felt depressed. I have avoided people and witheld affection because I just couldn't be 'fake' any longer.  It was being uncomfortable. It was diagreeing without being heard. It was even grief.  Grief over the loss of independance. Being a married adult still being told constantly what to do and how to do it. Constantly being judged. Being told what was in my heart. When I was accused of 'being happy someone suffered a misfortune,' it cut deep and still does. Sure I had disagreeded with this person and their personality made me unusually uncomfortable and uptight. I even called the accuser the next day to clear the air.  Give them a chance to tell me they didn't really think I was such a monster that I could truly be happy about anyone's misfortune.  Sadly, the accuser stood by their accusation and has ever since.  Of course, I still hear things like, "you are such a sweetheart. We love you. We miss you." Really? I can't accept these things also knowing that they believe me capable of such inhumane things.  As a best friend told me, anyone who has spent five minutes with me would never believe that of me.  They would wonder why I was so upset and saying uncharacteristic things and recognize it did not come from hate but from hurt, very deep and personal hurt. "Sweet friend" she said, "you are not that monster and it is going way too far to believe that of you or, anyone with a heart for that matter."  My therapist saw through it right away and asked me if the accuser was mad at me.  At the time, I said that I was pretty sure they were not, now I think that they too were hurt that I didn't agree with someone they profoundly agreed with  unquestionably. If they said or thought it, it was truth. There was absolutely no room for someone saying, "It doesn't have to be that way!"

So, I conclude this with other wisdom from Mother Teresa and confess it is easier said than done......

Mother Teresa's Anyway Poem (slightly revised)

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

When it all just hits you.....................

Here I sit at home typing and processing.  It's the first Thanksgiving ever I haven't been with my family.  I love being with my family. They ground me and remind me who I am.  Amongst a pandemic and my vascular health concerns we decided to do what many others did today; simply stay home. I don't regret that decision and I'm thankful my extended family was able to do a zoom meeting, to see faces and answered prayers.  This year has not only been challenging with the health of hubby's father but it is not as well known that I had an uncle with a potentially life threatening blood clot, like another hour and this would have been a different post.  Then, I had a cousin survive a massive heart attack, no risk factors other than family history.  As I sat looking at all their faces and listened to them talk it hit me, profoundly.  I was grateful and overwhelmed all at once.  I sat there taking it all in and I'm not sure I even opened my mouth to say what I was thankful for. Honestly, I was struggling to process it.  And then it made me sad that I haven't been allowed the space to feel all of that.  Because of our location and relationship the sole focus has been elsewhere.  I was lost, got lost, ended up lost in the shuffle.  But, today I was reminded who I am.  Where I come from and the dear lives that I love so much, dear ones that have been understanding and poured so much of themselves into me, so many times. No questions asked(Okay, maybe a few that's a family trait).  It spoke life and softness around some annoyingly hardened edges of me.  I saw in living color family loving and caring and reaching across the valleys of life.  

And, just when you think 19 years would teach you something about a person, there is always more to learn.  When we met 19 years ago I distinctly remember the Thanksgiving plans discussion.  Hubs told me it was 'no big deal in his family. They would hunt all day and stop at Cracker Barrel on the way home.  I remember finding it a bit sad but we started going to my parent's. He would hunt with my dad then we would visit each of my grandparents. Still pretty low key, really.  Then my sister moved closer so we started a tradition at her house.  This year, sadly, neither grandparent can be visited, we aren't traveling so I expected we would default to "Thanksgiving is no big deal." So, I didn't stress out about it, not a bit.  I bought some thick sliced baked turkey at a deli and figured I'd do a couple sides and call it a day.  Hubs asks me first thing I wake up, "what appetizers are we having?"  WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Thankfully, I'm a mild hoarder and always have some simple basics on hand so I did pull off a few unexpected appetizers and had planned a surprise pumpkin pie anyway.  So, once again my communication deficit bites me.  If only, I could process faster or learn to ask the right questions.  Don't assume or "the saying" (you know what it is) will indeed be true. Oh, and always keep a few appetizers on hand, incase you misunderstood along the way!

An my weak left side shows again!

Hope!

I'm already tired tomorrow!

 Recently, I had a conversation with a loved one about my continued fatigue.  I kind of thought people knew.  

Yes, I nap regularly even though I get 12 hours of sleep sometimes.  No matter how much or how little sleep I get of any quality, life still makes me extremely tired.  Doctors have explained it this way.  I still have to think about every single thing I do.  Every step takes careful planning still. Dinner still has to be sequenced.  I have lost the reserve to push past the fatigue.  It is simply gone! I have all new pathways and some of them are still a bit bumpy.  Oh how I try not to make a brain Injury my excuse for everything but I do have limits different than most. Whether you think I do or not. The filing cabinet in my brain has been dumped and I am still searching for all the papers carried off by the wind. Imagine how tired you would be if your brain didn't filter out light and noise and touch. If you felt like you were constantly in a game of dodge ball with all these things and also had to carry on like "normal". Carry on like nothing was constantly bombarding you.  Nobody knows the actual extent of damage the aneurysm caused.  There are no studies of survivors of burst aneurysms. Doctors would tell you those people don't exist.  Blood touching brain cells outside a vessel  kills them.  That is what they do know.  My head was filled with blood, this we also know.  Reports state I have, "significant cognitive deficits."  

Another loved one just this week, "but you'd never know you were struggling right now." Another Mercy on my life, for short periods of time I do rather well not showing the actual struggle.  But tune in and you'll notice it.  My left hand will curl tighter and tighter.  I'll struggle with balance, I huff more often or sound out of breath.  I begin to answer everything with, "I don't know." My left leg shakes and I start to loose eye contact when people are talking.  I desperately search for words and call things by the wrong names.  We all do it.  I just do it more now than I ever used to.  Nothing irritates me more than someone telling me I don't have a problem or it isn't as bad as theirs simply because they can't see me struggling.  I've been accused of not having the same degree of struggle and honestly, who really knows.  Perhaps I just have stronger coping mechanisms from working with autistic children. Perhaps, it's a good day for me. Perhaps, we have a different definition of struggle! My dad always said, "don't compare yourself to others."  I'm tired. I struggle whether you see it or not.  There are many times it is just worth the struggle.  It is worth the nausea, brain fog, headache and a body full of nerves that feel on fire. It is worth the left side tone and frustration. My mom reminded me of the words of the young missionary, Elizabeth Elliott.  If you don't know her story you really should look it up!!  Her husband was killed by the people they went to serve.  When her husband was killed they were very young and she had a baby to care for still in a foreign country.  When she asked what she was going to do, a wise person told her, "do the next thing." 

The 'survivor tree' in NYC (another great story)

So, every moment we just "do the next thing," whatever that is. 

Why the caged bird didn't sing

My devotions this week have been on control and anger. YIKES! Perhaps next week we will tackle, letting go. 

Growing up we were blessed enough to have horses.  But, horses eat hay.  Not just any hay but hay that has been well dried and never rained on.  This requires long stretches of hot, sunny days.   Now, I am heat intolerant and light sensitive with the whitest skin you've ever seen. Throwing hay requires long pants, and gloves. Forget the long sleeves, I just lived with hay prickled arms.  Hay was not exactly my favorite activity.  But, the thing I most disliked about it was that you could never make plans.  All summer our plans depended on whether or not there was hay down and ready to be baled.  I like a plan.  Perhaps that is one of the things I did like about teaching.  We always had a plan for the day.  Now mind you, I know I truly have no actual control.  Control is a lie.  

College:  That is when my terrible, unbearable, literally blinding migraines started.  So, life then became as uncertain as the migraines.  They popped up at the most inconvenient times. Will I make it to that final exam without one?  Can I make it home without loosing my vision? Substitute teaching was a nightmare on so many levels.  I was terrified of loosing my vision and having 20 kids I don't know to take care of.  Can they find a substitute for the substitute?? More uncertainty, more anxiety, panic attacks that went undiagnosed.  The beginning of a dangerous spiral that sabotaged relationships and stole away living.  

Marriage: both certainty and uncertainty.  I was certain that I married the right one.  I was 22 and obviously uncertain about being a wife, as in how to be one and not from the 19th century version.  Our entire relationship, previous to marriage, was long distance.  I never before saw the man I married on a daily basis. Just seeing each other every day was exciting.   We had a "plan." I was going to finish my Master's degree and obtain my permanent teaching certification while we got to know each other as newlyweds. I really wish I had this book back then. It's a book by Jim Burns titled,

" Doing Life With Your Adult Children: Keep your mouth shut & the welcome mat out."  It is everything I'd want to say in one title. So much hurt happened in those early years. I was told that I needed to withdraw from my Master's program, forget teaching, stay at home and have kids.  It was not a suggestion but a command.  What was probably intended in love was a selfish and unnecessary demand.    I believed that as a married couple we would finally be allowed the freedom to make our own decisions as husband and wife. Freedom to do what was right for our family.  We wanted a few years to just be married. We were so young and in no particular rush. It was not a matter of choosing one thing over another. We simply wanted some time and space for a few years! I wanted to make our way together, define us as a couple. Isn’t that what being a newlywed is all about? There is no way to sugar coat it, the commands given to us made me angry.  We were responsible, newly married adults. I had heard the words, "leave and cleave" uttered so many times that I actually believed it would be true. Oh, I always was a dreamer, thanks a lot Jane Austen (hehehe.)  I have also learned that I am a peace keeper not a peace maker.  And, believe me, there is a difference. When my brain had a filter, back in those days,  I just quietly and politely listened knowing my opinion would make no difference to anyone. I did not know how to establish healthy boundaries and allowed the hurt to continue.  Even to this day I have no idea what it would look like to be a peace maker in our situation. How I could have had peace and been at peace with those around me? I had always known the freedom to talk through things.  When that freedom was removed I had no idea what to do.  I was a caged bird, but my tune not heard. I simply had a different opinion. I only wanted to be truly heard. I wanted it to be okay that God had other plans for me.  I sensed it from an early age.  Im thankful I had a husband who heard and supported me when I had the courage to talk about it. 

Post aneurysm rupture living with a traumatic brain injury: These days, the chronic fatigue gets me.  The never knowing if I will wake up to a good day or an "unsafe,foggy" brain day.  I hate wondering if I'l have the energy to deal with the appointments and commitments I have made.  It's the not knowing, the feeling of spinning wildly out of control.  A favorite author recently did a devotion that really touched my heart.  Becky Wade, talked about the women carrying spices to Jesus' tomb.  Along they way they were rightfully concerned about who was going to move that stone so they could anoint Jesus.  When they got there God had already moved that rock.  All they were asked to do was bring the spices.  They brought the spices, the rest was not their concern.  Her point, just do what you can do. Bring to God what he asks you and let Him do the rest.  Keeping bringing those spices readers.  Maybe you are like me and the women with the spices.  I want to know all the details, have a foolproof plan and concern myself with it failing or letting someone down because I "didn't do it right." Just bring the spices!

He always showed up

Here is a post I found went unpublished until now.....................................................

In honor of Father's Day, in a very hard year personally and globally I thought I'd share what was on my heart.

At the funeral of a very dear man his children (and step children) said of him, "Dad (Pops) always showed up." These simple words were profound to me.  It was true.  He did always show up not just for his children but as a general rule of how he lived his life.  I am blessed to not only have a mother and father I can also say this about but  my sister, aunts and uncles and cousins.  It is a family trait I am so very fond of.  It would only be later in life that I would learn this is not the "normal" for many people.

I also sat there realizing this was no longer a reality in my life.  I still struggle with my energy level and have very different limits than most people my age.  My heart wants to be the one who, 'always shows up' but my brain limits me in very profound ways.  I find myself feeling like I need to explain this to people more than ever these days.  Since it's been 15 years and I can function pretty well most days, even people closest to me forget or get tired of my limitations.  I AM NOT MAKING THEM UP AND I AM NOT USING THEM AS A CRUTCH.   Honestly, I have grown very irritated by being told how I feel at any given moment.  I'm pretty good at understanding my limits most times. They are still very real and I need to take care of my own mental state.  I am frustrated every time I push too much and crash or get an anxiety producing migraine aura.  I don't want my body to tell me to stop, I'd rather pace myself and survive!

So, I am thankful for everyone who has shown up for me. I am thankful for the example my family has set and continues to live out and I will show up every sing time I can.  This is real post aneurysm life.  But, we are here to live it.  Keep on keeping on!

Photo taken by me!

Stellaluna

Yesterday was Halloween.  As a kid it was so exciting to bring our costumes to school and and have a parade. Each class came to the gym, when every one got there, Kindergartens led the festivities and a teacher would play some fun silly kid music (probably on a cassette tape, yup I'm dating myself.) We would walk around in a circle for a few minutes then, the next class did the same until our tiny rural school of K-5 all got to display their costumes (teachers too, they always came up with something fun.) There was never a scary, morbid or evil part of Halloween in my child mind. It was all costumes and candy! There was never a day we wanted to live "in town" more than Halloween. Handing out candy seemed like a glorious treat and my sister and me. We would always think, "someday we are going to live where there are trick or treaters."  Then, the day was over and we went back to riding our horses on a 7 acre spread, playing, "dog show" on our front lawn and eating picnic lunches on a large rock in our woods we called, "the picnic rock."

Fast forward to adulthood.  I was married and living in a second story apartment, no trick or treaters.  But, I was getting closer! We soon purchased our starter house and when October 31 rolled around it seemed like we lived in a prime trick or treating community.  However, we spent that evening with every shade and curtain drawn shut and the lights out except for the dim glow of our television which was debated even turning on lest anyone think we might be home.  Mookie, our dog, spent the evening barking at all the funny kids walking by, having the time of her life, as my heart silently broke.  That is not the actual point of this blog though so moving on. 

Each year, at the library where I work, the 'story time' children dress up during Halloween week and trick or treat around the library.  I never really had any fun with it until this year when I pulled out some bat leggings and a matching shirt I found on clearance last year.  I got myself a bat wings headband and decided since I worked at a library and it was a story time parade I would be Stellaluna (not just any old bat, a bat with a purpose).  I even checked the book out (Stellaluna by Janell Cannon) and had it sitting on my desk in case anyone was interested in checking it out.  Apparently, as always, my nerd side kicked in and I was the only one excited about the book.  I totally didn't care, I was living the dream, handing out fruit snacks, dressed as a bat, promoting literacy on Halloween.

But, let me tell you why I chose Stellaluna.  Of course, I had "bat-wear" I wanted to sport but, I also truly do love the story of Stellaluna.  It is about a fruit bat and her mother.  One night, they were attacked by an owl and mother bat's wings became too tired after fending off the owl to hold Stellaluna and she dropped from her mother's protection.  She landed on a tiny branch. Hanging upside down for as long as she could she finally became too tired and dropped. She dropped right into a bird's nest.  Not knowing what to do she climbed out of the nest and hung upside down from it while the other birds sat chirping for food. Stellaluna thought the idea of eating grasshoppers was revolting but finally out of desperation she ate what the mother bird fed her. 

The baby birds became curious of Stellaluna and tried hanging upside down from the nest too.  When their mother returned home she scolded them for behaving that way and told them that was not what birds did.  If Stellaluna wished to remain, she too would have to act like a 'real bird', staying awake in the day, sleeping at night, sitting up and eating grasshoppers.  Without options Stellaluna did as mother bird told her and acted like a 'good bird'.  When the birds were grown and the nest was too crowded, mother bird told them it was time they learned to fly.  As she let them go, they discovered indeed they could fly. Stellaluna could too, although she quickly learned she couldn't land gracefully on her feet like the other birds.  She was determined to practice all day.  The other birds became tired but Stellaluna was determined and continued on without them. 

That night Stellaluna found a branch and fell asleep, hanging from her 'hands' not her feet.  She awoke to a voice asking her why she was upside down.  Confused the other bat explained that bats slept hanging from their feet so she was actually sleeping upside down.  More bats gathered in awe.  Stellaluna told them her story and one bat began to question the events of her life.  The older bat quickly realized it was Stellaluna, her child.  She quickly began to teach her all the ways of a fruit bat.  One day Stellaluna went back to the nest she had landed in.  She found her bird friends and insisted they come meet her bat family.  The birds tried to fly at night with the bats but, of course, failed miserably, this time needing Stellaluna to save them! In the end, they decided they were very different but they were most certainly still friends. 

My childhood seemed more like the safe nest of the birds that cared for Stellaluna.  While adulthood, I can more readily relate to being Stellaluna.  Being dropped into a similar yet unfamiliar world.  Both before and after my aneurysm.  What I really needed to do was be given the chance to "leave the nest" and find out I could actually fly with hubby by my side, of course!! Life dropped me in a good place, it just wasn't where I was meant to fit.  It would begin to feel too crowded. Flying to something better, something that fit me, the me I was created for, was how it had to be.  Before my aneurysm I felt forced into a world of a crowded nest eating grasshoppers, staying there because I didn't think I had a choice.  Sure I survived it, although it left me with a terrible taste in my mouth.  Not to worry, my aneurysm would force me out of the nest and leave me literally relearning how to live.  Things were different now and I could never go back to the nest I didn't belong in.  So now I've "found my place in the world" but it doesn't mean I have to leave the others all behind, I am different, life is different.  We can think it is such a mystery that we are so much alike and so different too, as Stellaluna and her bird friends discovered.  But, we can know for sure we are still friends, a part of each other. And, it's okay that hubby and I fly together in our own uncrowded nest.  Each bringing what is ours and leaving the rest.    

Scarlet Letters

This post started out as one about opinions.  Specifically, one day when I became overwhelmed by the strong opinions of others around me and on social media.  As a highly sensitive person (in the words of my therapist, "wow, I've never seen a score that high.") I tend to take everything too personally. But, Mother's Day, I dread for weeks before it comes. I have a wonderful, selfless mother.  She made sure we had a great childhood.  We went to Story Time at the library, read all the classic children's books, always had a balanced diet, played outside in our expansive yard and made up our own "castle" in the woods. She was a teacher and a mom.  Yet, I never once ever remember feeling neglected. We always ate supper as a family and had clean clothes to wear. I don't know how she did it but it gave us the opportunity to have horses and go to a good college. Sure we spent a few days each summer in either her classroom or my father's (also a teacher.) I remember liking it.  There were plenty of things to keep us occupied while they prepared for a new school year.  FIRST, remember that my brain is literally stuck in 2005. Now, fast forward to 2002 when I got married to hubby with my degree in Elementary Education.  I was very much a people person and saw the tremendous impact both of my parents had on their students even years later.  Even in college though I had this sense that God had some sort of different plan for my life.  I had no longing to be a mom like most of my friends did and if you ask any of those closest to me at the time they will tell you I always knew I'd end up different.  I thought I might be called to adopt a child with special needs or something like that. But, get married and have kids? NOT for me I sensed.  Maybe teaching was where I would leave my impact?
My hubby knew this when he married me. He was okay with God's plan. We were okay with God's plan.  I am overly sensitive. I think the day we returned from our honeymoon was when the pressure about kids started.  I was 22, hubs 23. We had plenty of time to just be married since our entire relationship was a long distance one.  The brazen pressure about children shocked me, frankly.  I grew up in a family and church that valued children but left you alone about them.  Now the pressure was all around me. I had no capacity to handle it.  I began to feel like a "bad person." Was there something wrong with me?  And thus, the battle began.  Even at Christmas a little stocking was hung and paraded around wondering when it was to be filled. I couldn't escape it.  Yet, I still had this sense that something different awaited me.  So, I waited but the pressure grew into resistance, resentment, self-preservation, bitterness, sin.  And oh how I dreaded Mother's Day when I felt nothing but judged and pitied. I didn't want to be either.  I felt like poor Hester with that scarlet letter standing in the town square, everyone judging her for what she did, her mistake.  Since according to the critics, the only plan for a married woman is to have children and raise them, but even still give a girl a couple years before the pressure starts!. There was no room for me.  I didn't fit. I began feeling even worse about myself.  Did I miss something? Were they right?  I knew none of them were, but I lacked the maturity to see it for what it was;  their problem, not mine. I was seeking the Lord's will for my life, whatever that may be. Except now it was my problem too, because I was so angry about it.  I was a mess, coming unglued. It was effecting every part of my life now, and I had no idea how to fix it or what to do.  So I stood there feeling like Hester with a J(judged) and P(pitied) written on me, real or imagined, that is what it felt like to me.  Then, my aneurysm...............the different plan revealed!
This year is the first year I actually felt a measure of peace about the day.  We went to church (a different one than 2002) and had a nice quiet afternoon to ourselves. I took a nap with my little Terrier mix, Pippi and avoided Facebook at all the overly emotional sentimentality I knew I would find. It makes me uncomfortable in general.  I celebrated Mother's Day with my mom last weekend and hub's side last night. I walked out of church and shed those letters.  God's providence has prevailed as it always does. I am fully accepted and whole in Christ and gifts withheld turn into unexpected blessings.

Happy Mother's Day to all my mom friends and family.  Thanks for doing what you do and letting me be me. 

Me, really?

Our church recently asked for people willing to share their stories to create a series of videos to post on their website.  I immediately knew I had to share mine.  I can't give you the link until it has been played for our church but in it I talk about relating to how Moses responds when God chooses to send him.
Moses questions why he would be chosen.  He even has the audacity to tell God he is poor at speaking.  Then he questions why anyone would listen to him and who he needed to say sent him when he got there(I guess he was willing to go).  God doesn't just let Moses off the hook that easy.  He does send with him a helper to speak and he tells Moses to tell the people ,"I AM" sent you. So simple, so profound.  I might not have even thought another thing about that but I either read a devotion or heard a sermon that talked about the profound impact, "I AM" can have ; I'll get the in a minute.  So if you know me at all nobody has to tell you God is at work and can take full credit for me both being alive and for my determination to keep going and not coming totally unglued or consumed by anxiety (believe me I still have my moments, the struggle is real.) But, if you truly know me, even a little you are amazed God would choose such a weak, crazy, indecisive, insecure human being to survive what the medical world claims is impossible and live with the effects of it daily.  But, I have always known God can use anyone and he usually uses the weak so His power is evident.  I'm not going to lie, really I was and am a prime candidate! And God may have used it in my life to take me out of my uncertainty. I always just had a feeling His plan for me did not fit the usual mold, but nobody would listen to me about that either, except my hubby. Thank the Lord, even if he didn't get it he certainly didn't stuff me into a world that I did not belong.  For that I will be eternally grateful. For those who kept trying to stuff me in their box for whatever the reason, I am still learning how to forgive.  It only led to a belief that "nobody would listen to me anyway", sound familiar??
  "I AM," have you ever thought about that? Honestly, I never had, not really.  When God says "I AM"  it is all encompassing. I say, "I am too weak, I am just so tired." God says, "I am strong. I am your strength.2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I say, I can't speak well." God says, "I AM speaking."Exodus 4:12 - Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth, and teach you what you are to say." I say, "Nobody will listen."God says, "I AM here, I hear you. 1 John 5:14 "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to His will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him" Whatever, you need is within the power of the Great "I AM." Try it, express a need and there is an answer in the "I AM;" I mean He did create all things and gives and supplies  all things. Do you know the Great I AM, can you hear his gentle, quiet whisper answer your need?? Or, are all you've ever known been doctrine and duty and they are so loud you have never heard a whisper. "In the secret, in the quiet place. In the stillness, You are there."

Dear Younger Me,

Yesterday I drove past a few key places for me as I began life here after college.  If you know me, I'm always thinking, analyzing.  This can be good but as anything can also be a big downfall.  Also, if you know me at all you know I am fascinated with psychology and people; how they think, why they do what they do. So, yesterday I drove past the road of our first apartment, past the district office of the first school I taught in all on the way to visit a brain bleed survivor and his mom at the Rehabilitation hospital I went to after my own aneurysm.  What an emotional day.  And, if you know me I love those movies/stories where a ghost brings someone to their past and shows them a new perspective of what was going on or of what it could have been like without them.  Now, don't get all bent out of shape here.  I believe everything happens for a reason and it is as it should be. God uses us just where we are. But, the idea fascinates me.  I recently watched a movie on Netflix that I didn't particularly love but, there was one scene where the character picked up a phone and pretended to call his younger self and give him advice.  I loved it! So, here you go.....

Dear younger me, 

  I have rewritten this now several times.  Yup, You are still a bit of an over-achieving perfectionist who knows it won't ever be perfect.  Let it go (advice from your sister!) There is a whole song about it now, it's a thing so let it go!

Create healthy boundaries.  You have never been good at this.  Do it early and be honest with people when they overstep their boundaries.  Be nice and do it with tact, because that is who you are, but please listen to me, you bottle things up until the explode in your own head.  By then the damage is done and you are angry.  SO, even if your boundaries seem pretty obvious, set them anyway because what is obvious to you and everyone else you know may not be obvious to the people you are now around most often.  BOUNDARIES are your friends be kind when dealing with them.

Find something you are passionate about and do it even if it puts you a little behind.  Get that Masters in sign language!  Get your Masters Degree. Just get it done(ignore those who discourage you), you won't have five years to do it, but don't worry about that, it's going to be okay! PS- right now you are sweaty, shaky and finding it hard to breathe.  You are dizzy and feel the need to remove yourself from the room you are in.  People are talking, you have no idea what they are saying. It's called a panic attack, get help for them!!!

The older you get the more you will realize you don't always let people get to know you, what you are really thinking or doing.  At reunions your high school friends will have no idea what your husband is talking about.  When he jokes with them and lovingly asks why they never  warned him of some of these personality flaws they will honestly say they never knew, you hid it so well! Don't despair, your college roommates and friends will know you much better, so I'd consider that growth.

 Never take anything for granted and keep fighting the good fight!

PS- I am going to hit publish without revising, get over it younger teacher self.....hehehe

What is a Brain Injury anyway?

What is a Brain Injury Anyway?? By Li Sa renraW
Adapted from "The Spoon Theory" by Christine Miserandino

My best friend and I had plans to catch up over lunch. But that morning I woke up with “it”, you know it well, horrible brain fog. I knew it was not safe for me to operate a vehicle that day so I called her to see if she would pick me up. She happily agreed. Upon arriving at my house she found me just standing there staring at my purse. “Need help?,” she asked. “Ummmm, no just a few minutes.” She knew enough to be quiet and let me figure it out. I surrendered and grabbed my checklist for leaving the house. One by one I methodically followed my list. I was toward the end when I said, “Cell phone,” that's what I was looking for.” The hunt began. We located my phone. I only tripped a few times as my overloaded brain caused my weak left side to slightly drag my toe as I walked. She watched me now out of breath, not from being out of shape but from my brain being overloaded,. I fumble with my keys to lock the door because my left hand was balled up in a fist that refused to open despite the brace I wore. She drove silently to the restaurant and we found our usual seat, the quiet one in the corner away from the windows. I sat smiling, taking deep breaths enjoying time out with a friend who at the very least respected my limits. I could tell she had something on her mind. She finally asked, “may I ask you something that won't be easy to answer?” “Of course, ask anything!,” was my response. “Well, I know the symptoms of your injury and how you like me to deal with things like when to just be quiet. But, what is it really like living with a brain injury. What does it feel like to struggle so much?” That's when I remembered an analogy I had just read called “The Spoon Theory” by Christine Miserandino. I was going to try it out for myself. I grabbed all the spoons around me and handed her the spoon bouquet. She didn't even flinch, I was always doing odd things! I explained that these were all the spoons she had for one day. Everything she did would cost her a spoon because with a brain injury you had to think about everything, every step all day. She jumped right into her day and I began removing spoons for the simplest things. She began questioning me. I explained that she lost her executive function and had to relearn all the sequences of everything like a child. You don't do anything automatically, it has to be carefully thought about. When she needed to go downstairs she lost a spoon. This one she fought for. I had to explain that she struggled with balance. Alternating her feet while she stepped was no small task. And, did you realize you have to change strides when going downstairs? Of course not, your uninjured brain does that for you automatically. Mine no longer does, and I need to actually think about stepping instead of walking. I didn't even bother explaining that all this thinking would lead to a left hand now so tightly wrapped around the railing used for stability she would need to stop and pry it off before continuing. I told her she could skip going downstairs but she would just loose a spoon fixating on whatever it was she wanted down there in the first place. “What about taking a nap?Can I get a spoon back if I get some rest??” “I wish, taking a nap will mean you can hold onto the spoons you do have left. Skip resting and you might as well throw those spoons away now!” By the end of our imaginary day she knew from breakfast that skipping dinner was not an option, pills needed to be taken or you might as well give up your spoons for the rest of the week. So, she opted for an easy bowl of cereal, it worked. I didn't mention that she was probably too tired an nauseous to cook anyway! She stopped and looked at me with a tear in her eye, “You really have to do this every day?” “I don't have a choice. Some days I have more spoons than others but I can never make it simply go away, trust me I have tried.” I handed her one more spoon I had been holding onto.“ I have learned to always have a spoon in reserve. One of the hardest lessons for me has been learning to slow down and learn I simply can't do everything, or the way I used to do it. I just wanted her to understand that all the little things that everyone does so easily are like a hundred little jobs in one for me.” What other people simply just do, I have to plan it like I'm strategizing the winning touchdown in the Superbowl. I knew I needed to turn this around and find something positive for her to take home. “Think of all the time, all the spoons people waste every day. I can't do that. I don't have the luxury of wasted spoons so when I choose to use one, it is meaningful. Today, I chose to use one to be with you!” some parts copied and adapted from “The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino.

That is how I feel about volunteering. It is worth every single spoon I have chosen to use.

Thank you!

** Sweet story about the spoon I am holding up. Dear friends of mine asked me to be in their wedding. It was something I wouldn't miss being a part of for the world. But, to be fully present I was going to have to limit the events I went to leading up to the ceremony. They graciously told me to do what I had to but I thought they need a better explanation than the one I gave them about cognitive fatigue and how even though it look and can fake being fine for short amounts if time there is always so much more going on than meets the eye. I sent them a copy of “The Spoon Theory” by Christine Miserandino. As a gift for being a part of their day I got an engraved spoon that said “Thank you for being our friend.” They understood the cost and gave me a spoon for my reserve as a memento.

December tales

Every time I sign into Facebook it generically asks, "What's on your mind?" Usually I just ignore it figuring nobody really cares.  But in Early December I shared my thoughts on the Grinch, then wrote a blog post that I never published.  It went like this....

With the Christmas season approaching I have, in years past, been accused of being a bit of a Grinch about the whole thing.  I'm too tired to have any desire to decorate and decide where things go and disturb where my everyday things live.  Tasks like grocery shopping, that are already a struggle become infinitely more difficult.  People are stressed and busy and consumed with buying things.  And as the Grinch so honestly puts it, there is, "noise, noise, noise."But here is the thing I love about the Grinch, he has a change of heart.  He swallows his pride, returns what he intended to steal and changes his ways.  That's what I love about the introverted, misunderstood Grinch who has had too many of his boundaries crossed by others or perhaps in his immature youth failed to set healthy, honest boundaries with people. . Sure he may have overreacted a tad BUT.....he had a change of heart! 

So, this year I decided to have a change of heart; both for my sake and those around me. Hubby helped to simplify things by getting our families to agree we would only buy gifts for the kids.  He always helps with the decorating (because he knows it won't be done otherwise, it just costs too many spoons--> seriously check out this website!). I had survived to the last Christmas celebration and the one I'm most responsible for getting together.  My spoons were all used up and some borrowed from the next week.  It took all I had left to put on a smile and be merry! It takes a lot of brain cells to create a filter once it is lost (and never works perfectly, especially when you are tired and the noise just makes you feel like throwing up.) It ended in total disaster.  And there I stood feeling like a much less gracious Cindy Lou Who. 

For what was robbed wasn't material and couldn't be pushed back down a hill in a giant Grinch sled pulled by a dog with an antler tied to his head.  My precious little bit of energy was gone, vaporized. Oh how I longed to retreat up a hill and back to my unhealthy "Grinch cave" with wide clear boundaries. I wanted to set alarms lest anyone cross my boundaries again! Boundaries I failed to set so long ago.  But, Christmas came without it's usual cheer.   It came with heavy hearts and boundaries still unclear.  It came with the reminder of forgiveness both present and past. It came because Christ was born to live a perfect life and then die for my sins.  Christmas, my friends, came!

#prayforGrace

Let's begin this post by asking for your prayers for the 15 year old daughter of friends who collapsed at school a week ago only to learn that she had a ruptured AVM.  Let me tell you how I know her family.  It was back in May when my neighbor and I were chatting about how the next day she would have a house full of girls getting ready for a big dance.  She was telling me that all the parents were going to come take pictures before the group left at her house.  We were discussing good backdrops for these pictures.  I offered/ begged her to use our beautiful rhododendron bushes (I also was excited to live vicariously through them.) When the group made their way to our yard and I excitedly bound out of my door to see all their dresses, etc. The couple closest to me introduced themselves and their youngest daughter. We ended up realizing we attend the same large church and promised to look for each other again.  The very next Sunday we did connect and since I was wearing my wrist brace on my curly left hand this time, we briefly spoke about my aneurysm; of course, then we had no idea how our lives would soon share a similar path.

This week has been full of lots of road blocks for Grace and her family, as is always the case in these situations. Grace is now awake, confused, scared, and asking questions, Praise the Lord.  If you know me you understand that this is going to be a long road for her as she moves forward and heals. Next week is her surgery to remove the rest of the AVM/AVF so it doesn't rupture again in the future.  It is a little different than my surgeries; please continue to lift her and her family in your prayers.  The surgery is on the 26th of September, which is Tuesday.

I haven't written in awhile because hubby has been working some crazy amount of hours this summer and has felt burned out which, of course, makes me burned out.  We decided some weeks ago to escape on a little overnight trip to VT right before peak leaf season.  The mountains were beautiful and it was nice to get away.  In light of all that is going on here I did not take for granted the fact that this time I was blessed to be the one to have life go on as "usual".  I remember being in the hospital thinking how "weird" it was that life was just going on for people out there.  They were going to work, getting groceries, letting their dogs out. They were not thinking about hourly neuro checks, MRIs, angiograms, vasospasms, blood pressure, etc., you get the point.  As we were away I still prayed without ceasing for Grace and her family.  We saw some interesting trees and this letter/post came to my mind.  It's not perfect, but here you go.....

Dear Grace,
  I know you woke up in an unfamiliar scary place.  You are in shock at what has happened to you, as are all those who love you.  Right now it all seems so very overwhelming and even at times hopeless.  If you are like me your mind has raced to the future wondering how your current situation fits into your hopes and dreams of what you wanted it to be.  While this event has taken us all by surprise, God is not surprised. He has known all along and has a plan far greater than your own.  This does not mean it is going to be easy, no my friend, it will take a whole lot of faith and yes, Grace! The trees we found on a recent trip to VT reminded me of the journey you are about to take.

Trees subjected to harsh conditions adapt by spreading their roots out deeper to ground them and keep them from blowing away in storms.

They don't grow as tall in stature as they put all their energy into sending out deeper roots.   As you cling to Christ, the solid rock on which you stand, you may not rise to be the tallest tree.  The struggles you face daily may keep you from soaring to the top in the world's view and may keep you in humble places with deep roots close to Him.
Other trees also overcame adversity in their own ways. Their trunks had become twisted as they fought to stand against fierce winds. But, they remained standing strong.

Twisted trunk but standing strong!

Comeback!! Between a rock and a hard place.

Some looked like they had given up, fallen down, but then made a comeback.  We even saw some thriving in very unusual places.

"Getting knocked down in life is a given.
Getting up and moving forward is a choice."- Zig Ziglar.

Not one person walked by them without stopping to admire their beauty, tenacity and resilience.  They held others up and gave them hope! Be the trees with strong roots holding to THE ROCK. The ones that overcame adversity with strength and dignity never giving up and becoming more beautiful because they chose to make the most of what they were given!

The trees around them seemed so ordinary and unremarkable, although each has its own story to tell, I'm sure!



“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” ― Haruki Murakami

“Storms make trees take deeper roots.” -DP

Literally clinging to the rock!

"The leftover"and other terrible tales

*CONFESSION* this post  has been sitting for months as a draft while I decided if I would post it or not! Here you go.............life was meant to be shared!
So, I don't know exactly why I've been feeling so blue and down for months now. But, I'm going to tell you two stories about a few of my worst moments growing up.  Maybe somebody needs to hear them. Now, if you don't know me personally you need to know that I am/was a very shy, sensitive person who tends to be very critical of herself, insecure and sufffers from terrible self-esteem. I have never felt like I was particularly great at anything, I still struggle!

Here is a story about me, in 9th grade, on an Earth Science field trip to dig for Trilobites, Google it they are real (some ancient creature that left fossils about an hour and a half from where I grew up.)  It was field trip day and right before everyone got on the bus our teacher told us to find a partner for the day. Everyone quickly paired off. Everyone but me! There I was, the only unwanted leftover.  As we loaded on the bus people found seats with their partners. I had to sit in the front seat with one of the teachers....gag! Not even a nerdy girl wants to do that.  It didn't occur to the teachers with us (both male) to have pity on "the leftover" and simply allow one group of three to save my dignity. Nope, their solution was one of them would work with me. So, there I rode in the front seat, on the inside with a teacher. It felt like the ride of uncomfortable shame! I was mortified! When we got there everyone got to pick their location while I was forced to remain on the edge of the digging site so the teacher "working" with me could still keep an eye on the group. While others are digging and laughing, there I am on the outside chiseling away by myself. And no, I did not find one of those ancient sea bug fossils. Then we returned and if it wasn't for my homeroom pal, S, or my 10th grade lab partner and friend, N, I would have left high school with many more self imposed scars!

Now this next story still makes me cringe. And to be honest, I don't want to tell you all the exact details but I will.

Also, in high school we used to show horses in 4-H horse shows. This particular day it rained all morning, like poured.  The show ring was muddy especially along the rail where class after class wore a nice ditch for water to collect. Now my horse (okay, mule, there I was riding a mule) did not like getting her hooves wet. And mules, being smart and thinking for themselves, don't do anything they don't want to like walk in water when they can't see what lies beneath it. So, I was the only one in this particular class (shocking since it was a mule class,right?  I have no idea why my sister wasn't in it with me though.) Anyway, there I am going sideways around the ring as my very skeptical mount flared her nostrils and kept a good eye on the ring of water I wanted her to step in!  All I could think about was how my horse, back at the trailer, would have stepped in mud for me! Having no mercy, the judge made me reverse and go the other way. It made no difference to a mule, sideways we went the other way; walk, jog, lope all sideways.  Finally, I lined up in the middle completely humiliated thinking I'd just hold my head high and walk out of there with my ribbon.  What I did not expect to hear in a class with only me was, "In second place riding Candy, is Lisa..........." Now I'm mortified.  I get my ribbon and get out of there as fast as possible.  I didn't make eye contact with anyone and just hiked back to our horse trailer to hide!!!  I mean this was 4H, not a high class show, show a little mercy people.

So, now you know why recently when a friend noticed I wasn't at an event and seats were filling up, she saved me one and I was so touched by her kindness I almost cried! Okay, but I was also tired and tears usually follow that too! This event I was going to was a Brain Injury related one. It was "downtown" and I knew one place to park and the lot was full. I was directed to another one, which thankfully I knew about from numerous trips to the hospital, the only other route I know!! To make a long story shorter, that lot was full and I was directed to another. I wrote down the name of the street. The attendant instructed me to just follow the car ahead of me (Ummmm, OK it was already out of site and who knows if they were going there or not!) So, there I was making turns here and there guessing the direction I wanted to head.  I found myself on an undesirable street. The stories I heard about this street during my pharmacy days were all very bad!  I was sure a car hijacking was immanent! Naturally, I found a newer store parking lot to turn around in and stayed just long enough to type the address into my GPS. I have a terrible time following GPS but I was desperate!!! I did make it to my destination without hitting anything and only slightly rattled! I parked and made my way to the event.  And there in the front row was a seat saved for me, it made my day so thank you, AMT, you have no idea what that means to me!!! ! Take that "left over girl with a second place ribbon," maybe you aren't as forgotten and invisible as you sometimes feel!

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to faithful reader and dear Aunt (you know who you are, I try not to mention names unless I ask first!) I thought this year was a big milestone year, even had it starred in my planner.  I was year behind :-( I had a card all ready to send, it is on it's way but will be late. I have been living in utter brain fog for the last few weeks!  So, Happiest of St. Patrick's Day Birthdays to you Dearest Aunt N <3 and="" lisa="" nate="" nbsp="" ove="" p="">