Over Scheduled Blogger Skips Church to Tackle Her Overdue Post. You'll Never Guess What Happens Next.

Well...we see them all over Facebook. Stupid posts attached to videos that read something like this:

A Mother Left Her Baby Alone With a Pit Bull. She Never Guessed What Would Happen.

A Baby Was Left Alone With Her Sleeping Mother. What Happened Will Make You Cry.

A Toddler Was Given a Crayon And Some Paper. You'll Never Guess What He Drew. 


This Grandmother Had No Idea Her Grandchildren Were in The Next Room. I Couldn't Stop Crying. Can You?

This pretty much sums up my typical reaction to these videos.
Note the glass of wine in hand.

What the heck? The sad thing is that I find myself up at 2 in the morning watching these ridiculous videos and being gravely disappointed because it's never as heart wrenching or funny or scary as I had hoped. Seldom do I need a tissue and very often I find myself arguing with the advertising that got me to click on the link in the first place.

I think to myself, "That baby wasn't left alone with her sleeping mother!! That is just a dumb commercial about how tired moms are. I'M UP AT 2 IN THE MORNING WATCHING VIDEOS BECAUSE I CAN'T SEEM TO FALL ASLEEP AND MY CHILD IS GOING TO BE UP IN FOUR HOURS. I DON'T NEED A VIDEO TO MAKE ME AWARE OF MY EXHAUSTION!"


Well, I've decided to approach this blog in the same manner. It's been a year since I left my husband of 13 years and 5 months since my divorce was final. Five months. It seems like it just happened...but time is fluid and keeps moving even if we are having a hard time keeping up with it. Don't get me wrong; I have no desire to stay in the past, but I've found myself a little skittish of certain aspects of this new life. A year ago, almost to the day, I was feeling my way down a path and there was a lot of darkness. Now, there seems to be a bit more light and it's not nearly as overwhelming as it once was. I've tackled a lot of things: my pride, my fears, my preconceived ideas, my pride. What? Did I already say "pride?" Well...it's worth mentioning twice. Regardless, I think I've done well. I'm still not exactly where I want to be, but I'm certain by the time I reach the 1 year anniversary of my divorce, I will be a full functioning, "stand on my own two feet" kind of girl. The hurtles are becoming fewer and further between. Despite that, there is still one aspect of my new life that is requiring a whole new set of big girl panties and although I've ventured into it, I'm not loving it thus far. It's the dreaded "D" word, folks: Dating.

"But I don't wanna go on a daaaaaate!"
Just kidding. (A little)

To be honest, After my divorce, I thought I would look at dating kind of like a Jay-Z song.

            "If your having girl problems I feel bad for you son. I've got 99 problems..."

Come on, you have to laugh. We all remember dating in college and there are a lot of aspects of it that just suck. Suck. Part of me wanted to just forgo it entirely, but as Dolly Pardon said in Steel Magnolias,

"Honey, time marches on and eventually you realize it is marchin' across your face." 

With that in mind, this show needs to get on the road. I wish I could take you on some of my dates. It's been kind of like a western movie- the good, the bad and the ugly. Honestly it's no different than college, but the stakes seem much higher. Wasting anyone's time seems malicious instead of thoughtless. And I have someone who is much more important to consider when sizing up another person. It's not just about me; it's about Chloe as well. All of these factors make dating much more of a tornado of craziness than it once was. So if I could put a video together of my dating world and give them each ridiculous titles, these would be my top 5.


1. Mom (Who Feels Past the Age Limit) Coaxes Herself Into Wearing Leggings as Pants. You'll Die When You See the Results.

I would have killed for the outfit on the right.

There is a fine line between being confidant and cocky. I've always walked the line closest to, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain."  It's true. I don't like to be the center of attention, but I do like to keep up with the trends. This has caused quite the internal conflict. I haven't worn leggings since the 6th grade. Back then, we called them stirrup pants and they weren't quite as skin tight as their modern day counterparts. In 1988, I had braces, a perm and bangs whose height could be measured in inches. Stirrup pants were the least of my worries, but I felt confidant in them. I wore my gray stirrup pants with my matching, puffy paint cat sweatshirt, Cheryl Tieg socks and white Keds. It was glorious and I strutted down the hallway of my elementary school like it was my job to look good. What happened to that girl? I decided she needed to come back (minus the cat sweatshirt). So, I threw caution in the wind and intrepidly bought a pair of leggings. Women in your late 30s: We can wear these things. In fact, I think we can wear them well. I'm over worrying about it. Leggings are my friend. End of story.



2.  Single, Busy Mother Joins a Dating Website. What She Finds Will Leave You Speechless.

You mean you want me to quit eating and focus on dating?

Sometimes I happily walk through doors. Sometimes I am dragged through them, clutching the door frames like someone being eaten by a dinosaur in Jurassic Park. Thus was my entrance into the world of online dating. My sister (God love her) insisted I join a site. She did all the research, created my account and handed over the keys with explicit directions that I give it a fair shot. What I've found is wow. Just wow.

I have chatted with some interesting people. The best thing I can say about online dating is that you don't have to have a poker face when someone makes a statement that confirms they are bat crazy. We all know the noun that goes in between those two words, but let's keep this clean, shall we? On a side note, did you know there is such a thing as cast fetishes? Cast. Fetish. Oh...and I've been offered to have my arm put in one with any color of my liking. Um..what? Even better, a few weeks ago, I found myself on the phone, being yelled at because I wouldn't commit to exclusively dating before a first date. No words. Halfway through trying to explain myself (and in between screams from a guy who kept insisting he wasn't mad) the thought occurred to me that I just divorced someone so I didn't have to fight all the time. Why was I even trying to explain myself. Click.

Maybe I'm too old for this. Maybe I'm not that desperate just yet. To date, I've accepted 5 requests to meet in person and have cancelled on each one two days before the event. My sister keeps saying that this is not the way online dating works, but I have to admit, it's the way it's working for me. So, I'm afraid I'm out for now. I am content with meeting crazy people the old-fashioned way.




3. Mother of One Child States She Will Only Date People Who Have Children. The Reaction Can Only Be Called "Idiotic." 

I have one child. And I have to say, God blessed me with an amazingly wonderful little girl. I know I'm partial, but she truly is a ray of sunshine. She skips through this life happy as a bluebird on a spring day, but she is desperate for one thing: Siblings. She has begged for them for years. When I talked with her about me starting to date, her one request was that I date people who had children. Done. This should be easy, but you'd be surprised at how much resistance I've gotten. When I tell someone this is a prerequisite to dating them, I have gotten strange reactions from single men who have no children. I've been accused of playing hard to get. It's incomprehensible that I should want to date a parent. I mean, after all, they understand my struggle. They get that bedtimes are necessary and that sometimes words need to be spelled and not said aloud. They understand the feeling of being completely exasperated and in love with your child all at the same time. This parenting thing has too many facets. It's too hard to explain and I'm 38...frankly I don't have the time or desire to open someone's eyes to my world. I need a veteran who has been in the trenches.

In these moments, I keep calm and stare at Gerard Butler.

Trying to explain this has led to some harsh criticism. I've been told that I'm letting my child run my life. Really? First of all, we are a team, she and I. And secondly, I would love to love someone else's children as well. Blended families are beautifully complicated, but beautiful nonetheless. In fact, they are precious. I've seen it with my own eyes. I believe in them.




4. A Redhead Was Left Alone                                                                            With a Puppy And a Hammer.                                                                          You'll Never Believe What                                                                                Happened Next.


The other day I was talking with my sister about having to tell someone that I wasn't interested in dating them anymore. I was dreading it to the point it made my stomach flip. I searched for words to explain the feeling, but couldn't find them. She finally looked at me and said, "It's like killing a puppy with a hammer." OH. MY. GOSH. No truer words have ever been spoken.  Why was this easier in
college? I have ex-boyfriends as friends on Facebook. They would probably testify in a court of law that I had zero problems being brutal in breakups. Maybe I've lost my edge or I'm just out of practice...or maybe I'm wiser now and hurting people just isn't as easy as it once was. Regardless of the reason, this is the worst part of dating. Well...it's second only to being the puppy.



5. A Girl is Given a Chance to Look Inside Herself. What She Sees is Breathtakingly Beautiful

This revelation is not just for me; this is for all of us. Whether you are in a happy marriage, one that is struggling, one that just ended, one that died years ago or you are a single girl still looking for your other half, there is always a chance to look within and find the beauty of your world and of yourself. Don't focus on the ugly.

Over the last year I've dove deep into the depths of my soul and pulled out things that were dark and ugly and scary. I've uttered words that would leave your mouths on the floor. For a while, every time I reached inside and fished around to grasp on to something, all I pulled out was dark. I'm done with that. Maybe I've pulled out all the ugly. I'm not sure. Maybe time is being my friend and the fluidity is washing away the hurt. Regardless, I know God works on me every day and he has placed beautiful things within me and all around me. This life is so breathtakingly beautiful. There is no point in wasting time on looking at the ugly.

Here's the deal: I'm a complicated mess of a girl sometimes. I fall down often and sometimes I don't feel like jumping right back up. I cry when I get overwhelmed and I can get snappy when you hurt my feelings. I could sit here and list many faults and focus on parts of myself that were unflattering, but it's not the only thing I am. I am also radiant and happy. I sing in the shower; I love road trips and cuddling; I dance while cooking dinner and attempt cartwheels and still feel that childlike thrill when I play hide-n-seek. I think I've always found the beauty in the world. It's time to start doing that again and more often. We can all find it. We just have to take a sincere look. I'm even somewhat convinced that I will find the beauty in dating...at some point. ;)

The Beauty in the Background

"So, this is Christmas." 

I'm not even a fan of John Lennon's famous Christmas song, but it's just kind of where I am this season. War is over and I'm approaching my first Christmas as a single, newly divorced parent. I have to admit, I knew this was coming last year. I didn't have a timeline, but I knew the end was very near as our marriage labored to hold on through one more holiday. I tried my hardest to make Chloe's last Christmas with both her parents as carefree and wonderful as possible, but it was hard and everything felt unnatural. I was going through the motions and I constantly worried it showed. I wanted so much more for my daughter than vague memories of an  unhappy marriage between her parents. 

I still want so much more for her, but this is just where we are right now and despite it being one of the hardest things in the world, I've come to the reality that I'm going to have to trust God with this. Trusting him with myself is easy. Trusting him with a creature I made from scratch, and value more than my own life, is an entirely different matter.  So, what do you do when you worry your precious angel is not going to remember the good? I guess the only thing you can do: You reach back into your own memories, pick them apart and try to salvage your sanity by figuring out your own past perspective. 

I have some fantastic memories from my childhood. They are truly wondrous. Sometimes, I forget that I even have them; they get lost in my mind and then flood back with a trigger. Normally, it's a familiar smell or a phrase, and I sit back and marvel in amazement that I had ever forgotten something so near to my heart. It happened the other night in my sister's kitchen. We were talking about Tolkien and my dislike of all his books, save for one: The Hobbit. (I'm pretty certain some of you will quit reading my blog this very moment, but I can't help it; I just don't care for Tolkien. So, there.) Where was I? Oh, yes...my grandmother. She is the only reason I even like The Hobbit. She read it to my sister and me when we were little. It was a giant book with beautiful illustrations and it took us almost six months to get through it during our spend the night visits. My grandmother was a librarian and loved reading. She read to us all the time and I loved every minute of it, even when it was an author I didn't particularly like. I have many memories of listening to countless books, but my favorite memory is the night it snowed. 

There is probably something you should know about me. I love snow. As a child, my parents gave me a snowflake charm on a little, gold necklace because almost every evening from December to April, I asked my father the same question: Is it going to snow, tonight? I was the eternal optimist. 

As a kid, was there anything better than that moment when you woke up to freshly fallen snow? 

Growing up in Georgia, snow almost always fell at night because that was the only time it was cold enough. My sister and I would faithfully watch Guy Sharpe on 11Alive News as he made his predictions for snow. I would get so excited, I could barely sleep. Over and over again I would peer out my bedroom window to see if anything had fallen. I just couldn't stand it. The waiting was miserable and wonderful all at the same time. There was so much hope in the anticipation. Then morning would come, and if we were lucky, the world would be dim and quiet and still when we opened our eyes. We would race to the window and stare at the beautiful white snow that had silently fallen in the night. I have so many memories like this. They've all run together and now it's more of a feeling than a specific moment. That is, all of them but one. 

Sometimes, beautiful memories spark from ugliness. My grandfather died of cancer when I was seven years old. He was only 47. My grandmother had to say goodbye to her high school sweetheart and the love of her life. I can't imagine. The night it snowed must have happened the first winter after he died because my grandmother was still living in her bungalow, cedar clad house in Red Oak. I loved that house, but it had lost it's warmth and safeness after my grandfather died. I think she must have felt the same way because she had us over to spend the night often. Each time we came, she read from the latest book we were tackling. Her voice was calming and she always spoke with perfect inflection. I often found myself hanging on each word, completely wrapped up in the story.

On this particularly cold night, she chose Winnie-the-Pooh to read to us. I'm not talking about that craziness that's plastered all over the tacky baby section at Babies-R-Us. That nonsense disturbs me. I'm referring to the actual children's book written by A.A. Milne.  It's one of my favorites and as we sat down to read it, for what probably was my first time, I remember things felt different in her house. That night it was completely dark. Not even the little light above her stove was on. In fact, I'm certain there wasn't a single light on in the entire house. Instead, she read the book by the light of the lamp post my grandfather had installed when he realized he wasn't going to beat his cancer. He didn't want my grandmother walking into the house in the dark. We sat on the couch with our backs to the widow to use the light from the lamp and she read to us for what seemed like hours. I remember leaning into her and snuggling down. I was sleepy and it felt so safe to be sitting there, listening to the lilt of her voice. I'm not sure if it was the story itself or the safe feeling that made us so still, but we sat motionless as she started and finished the entire book. All the while, we sat with our backs to the world outside. 

There's nothing too magical about that story. It was what happened afterwards that is burned into my soul. When she finished, I remember turning around and glancing out the window. The bare, cold ground that had been nothing but sticks and brown grass when we had begun the book was now covered in snow. Covered.  It was pouring out of the sky and apparently had been for quite sometime. Joy overtook all of us. My grandmother hadn't expected the snowfall either and the West Virginia girl in her was thrilled to see the white wonderland outside. It was as beautiful as Narnia under the White Witch's reign and we danced outside under the giant falling flakes. It was complete and utter enchantment.

I do have a point; I promise. That night when we three sat down to read Winnie-the-Pooh, there was nothing but ugliness around us. My grandmother was reeling from the loss of her husband, my sister was mourning the loss of her favorite grandfather and I was coming to terms with the fact that life would never be the same again. We were in complete darkness, in every way possible...but we didn't see the beauty unfolding around us. We were so focused on one thing that we didn't see God's hand moving, even the elements themselves, to bring beauty into our world.

So, that's what I'm counting on this Christmas. God will make the ugly beautiful. He will fill in the darkness with beauty, regardless of our focus. 

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

 I'm going to cling to that verse. Last Christmas was a struggle and this Christmas is the furthest from "traditional" one can get, but I'm certain God is working in the background to cover my sweet girl's memories with a beautiful blanket of white, glorious, perfect snow. And I refuse to focus on the ugly and ignore what He is doing in the background. He is doing wondrous things to shield her from the imperfections and leave her with beautiful memories.  This Christmas will be beautiful. He will do this for her. He will do this for me. He will do this for you. Regardless of what you're going through right now, God will bless you with seeing the beauty in it. And if everything in the background seems to be complete chaos, rest assured that God is working it all for your good. Beautiful chaos is still breathtaking. A million snowflakes falling haphazardly from the sky still create a something magnificent.  This is my prayer for all of us: That we see the beauty and cling to it always. 

The 5 Stages of Writer's Block

The 5 Stages of Writer's Block

1. I'M JUST GOING TO POWER THROUGH IT. 

Your initial gut reaction is complete and total denial that what you are writing is complete crap. (Yes, I used complete twice in my first sentence. This is a blog about writer's block. This sort of thing should be expected!) Instead, you keep rereading what you've written and think, "This isn't too bad." But in the end, it's the same as the time your Aunt Ethel dropped the bowl of banana pudding on the floor at the family reunion. For a brief moment everyone insists the desert can be saved, but soon it's realized that every piece of nastiness sticks to pudding. Sadly, you stare at your empty spoon while yumminess, mixed with pieces of hair and dirt, is scraped into the trashcan. (And secretly you are really pissed at Aunt Ethel. Forget the fact that she just had a hip replaced. The bitty shouldn't have taken on such a task of carrying the only dessert if she wasn't up for it.)

2. MAYBE SOME MUSIC WILL HELP

Music helps everything, right? So, let's listen to some tunes. You turn on Pandora or Spotify or whatever you think will help, and for the love of all that's sacred, it must be something mellow. After all, you are serious about your writing. You don't want to overpower the thoughts in your head that are surely coming. Does this help? Absolutely not. Instead, you get bored with your crunchy music and soon find yourself dancing around the room to "Check On It" by Beyoncé. Inevitably it happens; you see your reflection in a mirror and come to the sobering reality that shakin' your money maker isn't as awesome as it used to be. You can't figure out if you just can't move the same anymore or that it's just not pretty to see a 38 year old twerk. You call your best friend from college to ask her opinion and you make plans to go dancing to prove you've still got it.


3. I NEED TO EAT

Diets and healthy eating habits are going to suffer in this stage. It's pretty obvious. When you can't write, stuff your face with Devil Dogs and Ho Hos. In fact, you may want to make some homemade vanilla ice cream and then use that new fudge sauce recipe you found last week. It's yummy. You scarf it down, but after dancing so much your stomach really wasn't ready for that amount of sugar. You feel a little sick. Maybe you should lie down for a while until the queasy feeling subsides. As you lie there, you don't brainstorm because that would actually be productive. Instead, you contemplate really important things like the phrase "People lie down; chickens lay eggs." Or the fact that it annoys you to say "I am nauseated" when all you really want to say is "I am nauseous."


4. I THINK NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO SLEEP

Somewhere in between nauseated and getting upset at your "not so firm grasp" on effect vs affect, your eyelids get heavy and you decide a quick cat nap is a perfect idea. Before you know it you are...Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

5. SECOND ATTEMPT - SAY A PRAYER AND TRY AGAIN!

You wake up with the strength needed to try this again. After reading something you've previously written that didn't all together suck (in hopes of regaining some confidence in yourself) you will begin step 5. You have covered all forms of procrastination and hopefully somewhere along the way, the writing gods have smiled upon you, cleared your mind and a muse has been discovered. You sit down in front of your screen and start pounding on the keys, all the while praying you're going to get it out this time....because you are so sick of it rolling around in that head of yours and SO terrified the cycle will start again.

I am so sick of it rolling around in this head of mine!!!

Trusting Your Heart And The Gifts God Has Placed In It

Forewarning: I've had this blog titled "Damn Blog" all week because it's been SO hard to write. I've struggled with putting this into words but I'm determined to get this out of me...even if it sounds trite. I've been avoiding it for days, so let's just swallow the medicine and get this over with.  

This week I found myself in the middle of a completely unexpected conversation. I have the propensity of frequently walking straight into them without even glancing for oncoming traffic. Can anyone else identify with me? Every thing is just fine and then all of a sudden you're looking around like a Talking Heads song and thinking, "How did I get here?" That was me. One minute it was small talk and then I was asked a really personal question. Those things tend to happen when you get divorced. People are curious and for the most part I am always obliged to answer, but this question was different. It hit such a nerve that I instantly found myself in an internal struggle: Do I keep this shallow and skim the surface or do I bare my soul? Anyone who knows me well, knows my final decision. For me, small talk isn't an option; it's torture. And if someone asks me a question, I will be as transparent as I can.  It's one of those innate traits God has placed in my heart and try as I may, I can't find a way to get rid of it. We all know Psalm 139:13. "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." I love that verse when talking about babies that have been prayed for and pregnancies that were struggles, but it makes me squirm when I think about it in regards to my own self. You see, I've really struggled lately with the gifts God put in my heart when he was stitching it closed. They are sewn up tight in my very soul and I've longed to loosen the thread and pull them out, but I just can't seem to figure out how. I am, by nature, three things.

1. Transparent
                           2. Honest
                                             And...
                                                       3. Trusting to a fault

The last one has really kicked my butt over the past year. It has been my struggle. Even in the face of precious friends who were telling me their worries, I continued to trust when I shouldn't have. And now I am left feeling a bit betrayed by my own heart. That's such a strange feeling. It's rendered me a bit wary. Any innocuous thought and I begin second guessing myself. I'm not really use to that. I'm trying to figure out how to trust myself again and learn from my past mistakes. And in all this, one question keeps coming to mind: 

What do we do when our God given gifts end up getting us hurt? 

We have all had it happen. You do something meant for good and end up getting bad in return. It's not a fun feeling and it comes in many forms. If you are a giver and someone selfishly takes, what do you do? If you bear burdens for others but feel abandoned, how do you reconcile that? If you are a good friend and you are betrayed, how do you recover? If you blindly trust and are made a fool, what do you make of the experience? It makes you question if you should be so vulnerable again and risk the pain. Should you? As much as I'm working through this myself, the answer is Absolutely.  And here's what I'm coming to realize is needed in order to work this out in the every day: 

1. Realize It Wasn't the Gift that Hurt You: 

All the gifts that God has put in us are beautiful and precious. We can't blame them or ourselves for the betrayal. We live in a fallen world and we must learn to thrive in it. Turning on the inner most parts of our spirit isn't the answer. Every good gift is from God and they are meant to be embraced.

2. Pray for Discernment: 

This one is easy. If you've been hurt by your sincere, godly actions, pray for God to give you wisdom. Wisdom is needed to see when and where to use the talents you've been entrusted with. It's not always easy, but it can be easier when we ask for divine guidance. 

3. Learn From Your Mistakes: 

He gave us a memory for a reason. If we don't learn from past experiences, we will be certain to repeat them.

4. Keep Doing What God has Put in Your Heart: 

Regardless of your trepidation, keep moving forward. Never stop pursuing what your heart longs to do. If you stop, you will only hurt yourself. Whatever the fears may be, push through them. Ultimately, that will bring you the most joy and God will bless your obedience. 

5. And If You See Your Gift in Someone You Love....

Rejoice! Ugh. This is THE HARDEST one for me. My daughter has the sweetest heart I've ever seen. She trusts more sincerely than even I do and she is always trying to help. Last week, I watched her spend her time at a birthday party making sandwiches for the band. I wasn't filled with pride. I winced because it was something I would do. I struggled with not wanting her to be like me and my heart still feels this way. I can't get it to jump on board with what I know to be true in my head. I'm still in process because I've given a lot and have struggled over the past year of realizing it wasn't accepted the way I wished. That is just wrong thinking. Regardless of how I feel, I'm determined to do the right thing. Instead of wanting to change her, I am dutifully bound to guide her. If she is going to be a trusting person with a servant's heart, I will teach her to pray before acting and trust with discernment. I will teach her to use her gifts the way God desires...and I will learn to do the same. Most of all, I will (above all else) trust in the one who has created me. We should all be so lucky to use the gifts God has given us, even if that's a bit scary. 

It's hard. None of this is easy for me. To be in constant conflict of myself isn't the most fun, but I am working towards the goal. I refuse to let fear change my heart. I can only learn, grown and trust in the one who has given me a big heart. And for now...that's all I can do. 

Just Like Linus: Sitting in a Pumpkin Patch and Waiting for Something That's Not Coming

Last week when I posted my blog, I mentioned I wasn't ready to talk about my day. Well, that turned into not wanting to talk about my week. But as promised, I'm talking about everything on here, so...let's talk about last week. Bear with me though, this is very raw and it won't be the most eloquently thing I've written. I just need to get this out because I am closing the door on the past seven maddening days feeling a bit punch drunk.

Last week, in the span of 48 hours, these two things happened. One: I was accused of being a crazy stalker by my ex-husband and his girlfriend. And Two: I had my first fender bender. Ugh. When it rains, it pours. I wonder which topic you guys would like to hear about first. Fender bender? No? Girlfriend? Yeah. Our marriage is only over by two weeks and there's a girlfriend. Well, she was in the picture before the divorce was finalized, but I'm certain anyone with a brain can figure that out. But, I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah...stalker. I spent four hours Wednesday trying to prove I hadn't done something I had rudely been accused of doing. There were many text messages, emails, screen shots, and phone calls to Verizon wireless. After a ridiculously long battle, I cleared my name and all parties went to their perspective corners. But I limped to mine. I've never been accused of something like that before and having it come from someone who has known me for fifteen years was infuriating. It left me shell-shocked and I could barely sleep that night. Thursday morning on the way to work,  I plowed right into someone at an intersection. My week was complete. The first day I had been innocent and labeled guilty and the next day I was just guilty. Halloween is one of my absolute favorite holidays, but this year it's starting to seem like a bit of a nightmare than spooky fun. I've talked about "comfort movies" before. Last week, I needed some Charlie Brown.

I love It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. We watch it every year, without fail. It's a classic; I own the box set. But there is one thing with Linus that has always stressed me out. He missed all the fun while waiting for something that never came. As a child, it caused

such anxiety as I watched Lucy collect candy for her "blockhead brother." I wondered if she was really going to give it to him or if his entire night would be a complete waste. Even Sally bailed in an angry tirade after realizing she had missed out on her Halloween fun. Bless his heart. I just felt so sorry for him. Sitting patiently, hoping he had picked the sincerest pumpkin patch. Hoping that all his efforts were going to pay off and he would be rewarded with good things. And the worst part was that he never realized he was wasting his time. In his mind, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.


I'm in the process of trying to figure out exactly where I want to be. I've really struggled with anger over the events of last week. I'm still angry about them even as I type this. It only confirmed what I have feared for quite awhile: time has been wasted. I've felt very defeated with thoughts that I wasted a lot of time, stuck in my own pumpkin patch waiting for something that wasn't coming. It's left me frustrated with myself for not seeing this years ago. No one likes to feel like that. Realizing you've wasted your time is one of the hardest feelings to reconcile. It dashes your hopes and if you aren't careful, it can build some serious bitterness. Everyone has moments of feeling like they've spent a lot of time spinning their wheels, whether it's a job that's not a passion, a friendship that wasn't healthy or a marriage that met a demise after years of struggle. And sometimes, even after we've left that pumpkin patch, we find ourselves moved into another one that's not much better and it's scary to think about camping out in it too long.


I woke up the other day and realized I have moved into another little patch of earth, surrounded by orange, winter squash. What I'm waiting for is a bit unclear. Despite what my heart wants to do, I'm struggling to move on, but I know staying angry isn't doing me any good and I'm done letting someone else delegate my emotions. Done. So, until I can conquer this, I have to remember Linus. Even though he spent his night sitting in the cold with a somewhat hostile Sally, he refused to change his perspective. He kept his focus and refused to see it as wasted time. Instead, he chose to focus on what he was learning in the moment. His faith never faltered. Grant it, his faith was in a big, floating pumpkin that passed out gifts; nonetheless, he had faith. So do I. I must cling to what I know is true and He is someone much bigger than me. Someone who wants good things for me. I must have faith that my wasted time wasn't truly wasted. And after I get the wind knocked out of me, I have to remember to be more like Linus and focus on the good. Focus on the positive. Focus on the gifts I have received from my sweet Savior without even having to sit in a pumpkin patch all night to prove myself. I don't have to be the most sincere. I don't have to be the best. He wants good things for me even when I'm knee deep in tissues from crying tears of rage. He loves me despite finding myself in the wrong patch. And last, but certainly not least, if I find myself sitting in that wrong pumpkin patch,  I am blessed to have a family that won't let me sit in it for too long without coming to pull me out. May we all be this blessed.



So enjoy your Halloween, my fellow Charlie Brown lovers. Sit in the right pumpkin patch and hope for the good things that are coming.