It will be written

Today was a very pivotal day. I woke up this morning completely unaware of the feeling I would have right this second. I feel my purpose and God's vision more clearly than ever before. It's an awesome feeling.

I am one of those people who have major thoughts and life altering moments....in the shower. For some reason I clear all distracting thoughts under that hot water and I am able to hear my tangible thoughts more clearly. I also feel like God knows this is the only time I have (dedicated) to myself, so it's where He speaks to me the most. Dude knows how to get through to me!

I've been wanting to write a book for a while now, who knows when I will get to that, however I know where to start exercising that habit. I will become a legitimate blogger. Whoa. Clam down folks. I know a blog is just small step and may seem very juvenile to most of you (plus I have this one already; so what's the big deal?). What you don't understand is that I am not one to "socialize" very well. I am horrible at making small talk (it's something I've been trying to work on as an adult) and most of the time I wish I could just write down my part of conversations and let the other person read what I'm thinking.

I want to turn this blog/site into one that I can write and "talk" about all the things I love: God, my husband, my kids, fashion, makeup, nails, hair, beauty, teaching, writing, reading, shopping, eating, LIVING!! Every day I have so many things go through my mind and no where to put them, often times, no one to listen. I mean, who really cares that I just spent an hour updating my planner?! But it's THOSE moments that I can allow myself to write it and shove it into the universe, THOSE moments will help me develop.

So....with that being said. Please share my blog link. I will be updated EVERYTHING and trying to organize it so that topics and posts are separate. If you have a request for something you'd like me to to write about, send me an e-mail. I'm NOT expecting grand followers (in the first two days), however I am "expect(ing) the great" and know that God is guiding me. (I'll be writing a lot about my spiritual journey).

Get ready world. It's. About. To. Go. Down.

When All You Can Do is Stand

Remind yourself: This is not your battle to lose. It has already been won.

This should be my motto for this entire month. The spiritual attacks have been so apparent and constant that I am physically and emotionally drained. I have never had to put up so much armor than the iron clad shield and vest I have to spiritually strap on every day for the past two weeks.

My faith has been questioned. My relationship with God has been mocked. My character has been put on display and ridiculed. My God has had to fight for me.

I started out trying to fight the good fight and was left feeling defeated. I asked God, "Did I fail you? I feel like I flunked your test." His answer was that it wasn't mine to fail.

I realize that I am not easily understood. I have that CRAZY faith. Yes, I know. People think I'm crazy. He hasn't abandoned me yet. Not even when I didn't know His name. Not even when I felt as though I was alone in my classroom with students disrespecting my love of Him.

It's one of the most difficult things to do: work in a public place where "all people are accepted" but God is not. "You can get fired for that." Wow. Fired for faith.

I already stick out like a sore thumb, now my faith causes me to be an outcast. Well..."I'm going to stand my ground and be an OUTCAST."

All attention....

I was recently reminded about my abilities to convey random thoughts into effective sentences (shout out to Shemika Kennison for the encouragement ;) ). I am a firm believer that God speaks to us all at a volume we need to hear Him and at the precise time that we need to hear it. I have felt this "shut down" inside my gut. I realize I have so much to say and no one to express it to (directly). I feel that the majority of issues I think about are too ego-centric and focused on selfish reasoning. Because of this, "relate-ability" is an issue.

I am now a full time English teacher in Kansas City, KS. It has brought many challenges. For some of these I feel I had the proper foresight to anticipate and others have slapped me so hard in the face that I have to stop my head from spinning from the impact. From these issues, many of my own personal views and opinions have been challenged. I never thought that at almost 30 years old I would be having self-esteem issues, spiritual battles, or emotional catalysts.

When I was in the second grade my mom let me start dressing myself. I still remember the outfit I picked out. A white graphic tank top with purple trim and purple striped shorts to match. I wore clear jelly sandals and a purple headband. I remember being upset because I couldn't find my earrings to match. From that moment as a second grader, I have always LOVED fashion and beauty anything that goes with it. As I've AGED (I have to deal with that fact!) it seems like my "first love of all things fashion" is abnormal to those around me.

Last year, as a student teacher, I dealt with a few side glances and questions of "Is that the teacher?" I knew it wasn't really a problem to complain about--looking young enough to be in high school. However, it wasn't just about how young I looked. It was about my attractiveness. My looks began to take the front seat and my effectiveness as a teacher began to take the back seat. This assumption has followed me into my first year of teaching. First I would just brush it off as being the newbie, but then I started to notice that frequently (almost every day) some one would make a side comment about the way I look. It might be about how I did my hair: "Why do you spend so much time on your hair?" Maybe it was about my outfit for the day, "Why do you always dress so nice?" Or maybe it was about my choice of both. I know that most of these are just innocent observations. I suppose a mom of two who likes to still dress business casual/dressy is an anomaly. Although I recognize this, the comments compounded and I started to question myself as a woman. My self-esteem dropped. Was I that stupid that no one could see past my love for fashion and see my passion for teaching? Is that the only reason they think students visit my class in their free time? The lack of support around me (when it comes to this issue) made me even more upset. I've begun to feel like everyone, friends and family, are all seeing me as a "pretty face."

I suppose that my entire life I've started out with low self-esteem and no self worth so I carried myself differently. As a grown woman I learned to hold my head high and especially after FINALLY earning a degree (the first of my immediate family), I WANTED to hold my head high. Now I wonder if I should hang my head a little to blend in more with the crowd.

Driving with my eyes shut

I have never been one to claim to fully understand the multitude of complex emotions that a human may encounter. Neither have I ever been one to shy away from my own. However, as I get older I realize that wearing your heart on your ever-so-fashionable sleeve may not be the best way to go about life. After almost a week or two or wafting and covering myself in prophetic pity I have decided (yes, once again) to give it to God. Surely the reason for this mounting hill of defeat is because I have no idea what is in store for me. Fancy that?

Not knowing how your life is going to turn out? Who would have thought of that one? I realized that I am not the only person on the planet that has a fear of the unknown. I DID start to recognize that I have this CRAZY faith that allows me to be ok with that. Somewhere in the dozens of applications and denials I had managed to loose hold of that. It wasn't until this morning when others claimed to have seen this loss so apparently clear on my face, that I was reminded of what I DO know.

I know that God is and has always been in control of my life. Every once in a while I become selfish and want to take back the reigns. Not because HE is a horrible driver, but because I feel the need to be in control. Typical of a woman? No. Typical of THIS woman. For some reason I can't even let my husband step foot into the kitchen, which is a rare occasion. I'm not sure if he's in there because he wants to help or because he's worried that I may burn something. (Don't start thinking "typical" either! I AM a good cook, I just try to multitask while I'm doing it and I fail sometimes. Naturally.).....back to God.

Plainly put, that is exactly what I have to do with my life. Go back to God. Not because I left Him, but because I stepped on His toes and managed to push Him in the passenger seat. Notice I said passenger NOT back seat. I still made Him a partner to my life, but not the HEAD of my life. I feel that many of us do this. We claim that since God is still equally as important as other things that He is in the exact place that He needs to be. This is not right. God is to be the MOST important person/thing/thought/emotion/security in our lives.

It has been taking me a while, but you know, I think I'm getting good at this whole life thing.

There has been a heart...

When I was younger I used to lay on my floor with my feet strategically posted next to my radio. I would listen to Mariah Carey sing about love and All 4 One swoon me promises about my wedding day. I was in love with love. I would even go as far as to sit on my desk in front on my window in hopes that someone would walk by and be stopped by my beauty only to later throw rocks at my window to get my attention. My mind and heart were young, innocent, and STUPID. Forget the whole "naive," that's just a pleasant way of saying that someone is stupid. I'll just come right out and admit it.
It seems only right that fifteen years later I acknowledge what has happened to my heart. The past couple of months I have been searching my soul and spirit. Type. Delete. Type. Delete. Even as I write this I am going back and erasing words that are too honest even for myself. Intimidated by the back lash and judgment I delete some phrases and sentences I am not ready to unleash to the public.
When I was twelve I was scarred. Yes, it has healed. It is just a piece of my past now, no longer creeping into my dreams. Or so I like to think. But once where my heart was (no there's not an ice box there), instead a smaller-less-productive heart resides. I engulf myself into my work and tasks of the day and than at night, before I rest my head on a very uncomfortable pillow, I think. I search that small heart for peace and purpose. Sometimes I think I'm still twelve. Still stupid.
I had let myself get used and tormented by the men in my life. Emotionally and physically. Now, here I am a woman almost 30 and I am emotionally tormenting myself. What did my mother train me to become? Who have I let God "exchange" me into? Questions burn through my mind and into that little heart of mine constantly.

The Storm

You know that feeling that so many people talk about? The one where you have just survived the worst thunderstorm you have ever been in and look up expecting to see sunshine, but instead you can see black-green clouds looming and you know you must embrace for the hardest hit?

That's where I'm at right now. After a grueling "spring break" tutoring in KCMO, I've been struggling with what one may assume to be an easy three day adjustment back into finishing the last leg of my student teaching. Ironically in the last three days of literal rain I have also had the chance to look up and see the metaphoric clouds quickly approaching.

Just as efficiently as I closed my lap top my eyes re-focused on what I was surrounded in. A house that had been un kept because of my busy schedule. I apparently forgot to write in asking someone to help me clean. ---Wait. No I didn't. I scheduled time for myself to clean, but put Little Matt's new twin size bed together instead. That consumed three hours that had been strategically placed for cleaning.

Now as I ventured into the kitchen to clean the 5 minute-do-dinner-in-microwave mess that was covering the counter, I turned around to a sink over flowing with dishes. My feet were successfully tracking bread crumbs from linoleum to carpet, and speaking of carpet, those Spring buds that I love so much were all over my living room floor. Which was a little difficult to see under the kids' coloring books, broken crayons, markers, bills, hair bows, and toys that had managed to escape the non-effective "toy basket" for the living room. I sighed and went to turn off the lights only to allow myself a chance to see what I was truly trying to hide. My failure. I sat on the arm of the couch contemplating accepting defeat or battling the mess. I chose the third option. Ask for help.

Remembering that I was married and that my husband had just been sleeping on the floor I went to our room to finally put my pride to the side and ask for him to help me clean the mess in the living room. After a little debate and me finally admitting in an exasberated voice, "I am about to cry. I need you help," he arose from the bed still partially in REM stage 3 of sleep. He managed to pick up a couple toys and his pie plate before I heard the bedroom door close again.

I walked down the hallway to be greeted with what I already knew. The door was closed. The light was off. My help was gone--to bed. I begged. I gave in. I turned to battle the storm myself. But just as those who rise from the protection of their basement to see that their home and everything they knew to be normal was ripped away and replaced with shreds and debris---I saw my house after the storm. Failure was at my feet in the petal filled hallway. It was on my couch in the still to be put together book shelf. It was filling my sink in the dirty dishes and crumb filled floor. I was no longer in the eye of the storm. I some how slept through the actual tornado and now I was standing in the aftermath.

I stood in the hallway taking in all that was around me and finally did what I had been needing to do since I found out my sister was diagnosed with blood cancer. I cried.

Even as I write this I struggle to hold back the weakness that is banging to escape my eyes. I allowed myself to cry, but not for my defeat today. For my defeat this year. This was supposed to be my year and I have let my circumstances dictate my reaction and strength. So tonight I am allowing myself to have a moment of weakness. Tonight as you all sleep, as my husband snores in the bed and my children rest in their newly built beds under my broken back....I will cry.

Tomorrow: I will attempt to gather what is left of me after the storm.

Balancing knives...success?

I am almost done with my student teaching and as lucrative positions open and close I am drawing and pulling closer to the vision God has given me. I find myself consistently speaking in a future tone. "When I get my own classroom." "Let's get this for my new class." All while the speaking is going on I wrestle with my flesh tearing away my optimistic outlook. This internal struggle may be more evident to myself, but lately I have noticed that my external self is struggling as well.

I have managed to put back on almost 20 pounds that I worked so hard to get rid of, not loose, because I know exactly where I put them and picked them back up! I have also started to fail at the jobs that I find most pertinent in my life. Wife. Mother. How is it that in the midst of trying to balance everything for the sake of the greater good I have lost sight in it? No, not sight. Just hold. I can still see them. I can hear their laughs. However, I have become a spectator in the life I have worked so hard to obtain. I watch my children color and tackle each other. I watch my husband make plans for our business and attend meetings that I should be at. Where did all that balance go? Where is my cape that has all my super powers?

I function day to day just as I did before. Keeping track of my activities, crossing them off as I go so that I do not miss a thing. Shower? Check. Diaper bag ready? Check. Both kids dressed and hair brushed? Check. Living room toys picked up? Check. Papers graded? Check....The list goes on until it runs into the next day. When I look back at the day I realize that I missed the simple moments that I should have soaked in. My daughter reaching for me at 5 am to get out of the crib and cuddle with daddy. Instead I am distracted by the soaked pull-up that has leaked over her night clothes. Change her and quickly exchange kisses for a new onsie. Or my son shooting straight out of bed to ask "Where are we going today?" curious of the day's adventures. Instead I see a wide eyed boy ready to eat breakfast and in desperate need of a bigger bed. Add that to the list.

I missed it.

I missed the moments to sit with my kids and pray. I missed teaching them to thank God for waking them. I missed teaching them how to talk to God first thing. Sure we prayed and thanked God at night, but what about what He has done for us through the night?

I missed it.

I missed my husband getting into bed to tell me about the team meeting. To share with me his vision for our family. I was exhausted from a day of work and planning for the upcoming school week. I missed the opportunity to let him know that I see him. Not just who he was, or who he is, but the small things he is doing to become who God wants him to be. Yes, I feel it's taking a long time. But my timeline is not the one in control here.

So after all this, how do I find the better balance? How do I juggle knives and not get cut? Does it exist? I thought I had it all figured out until I realized that I WAS in two places at once. I was the juggler tossing knives high in the air awaiting for them to descend into my hands (hopefully) gracefully. And I was the spectator. Watching the juggler, secretly wishing that one knife would drop innocently to the floor so that the terror of watching would slowly decrease.