Christmas

I don't know where it comes from but somewhere inside of me is a Brunhilda. Somehow I believe I'm a monster and I'm always trying to cage her. I'd called a meeting with my manager Thomas and the center manager Brett and I felt no intimidation despite my size and lack of title.
The tension between Thomas and I had finally hit the boiling point days before, resulting in me telling him fuck you and him sending me home. It was of course the very thing that my flesh thrives on. I love the thrill of sticking it to the man and making a small man look smaller in front of the world. I love the bows from the UPS drivers calling me a legend, an icon, their idol. But along with those fleshly thrills the voice of the Holy Spirit was asking me to be humbled. So I avoided every conversation and shook my head reminding people I had been wrong.  He was reminding me who I belong to and he was calling me to again set the bar for my manager to treat people like people without fanfare or disrespect.
I leaned forward and stared into his eyes. I said "Thomas, there's a part of you I love and a part of you I want to kill. I think we pushed each other to an ugly point. Frankly I don't like being that kind of person and I hope you don't either. This drama has started impacting other parts of my life and I chose this job hoping for a simple non-dramatic environment. I'm now forced to decide whether to give up this job and move on or see if you and I can find a peaceful resolution. I wrote a letter to HR... (I watched his face blanch and paused a little longer to make him sweat) but I haven't sent it yet. I'd like to give you the chance to explain yourself. I feel like you specifically target me. I'd like for you to speak to that."
Thomas made some pathetic excuses about my bad timing and how I just happened to always be his final straw causing Brett to stare at me in abject horror. Brett had read my letter already and I know for a fact that he knew I should send it and yet hoped I wouldn't because of the havoc it would wreak right before Christmas rush shipping. After Thomas had stepped all over himself admitting he treats me more poorly than the average UPS grunt which is pretty terrible and I had pointed out methods he could use for treating people better when he's stressed, I negotiated the freedom to leave work for school at my discretion, wrenched a promise from Thomas to stop targeting me, told them I would think it all over and left Thomas to the mercy of Brett. Striking the balance of not crushing Thomas and giving the grace for him to learn and grow was so hard. Staying there after the way he had disrespected me so many times and treated me so poorly had pushed me to the point of tears twice and explosion several times. But I knew what God wanted. He wanted me to sit in that and grow and be a force for change because I can. Over the next few weeks I saw my freedom at work blossom and I was able to help people the way management should. I could float from unload to a truck with a struggling loader. I could run errands all over the building giving people relief. People started calling me sunshine. My positivity had dimmed in the months that I wrestled with how to handle Thomas but I was back. By floating around the building I learned everyones stories. I was amazed to learn that I worked with a real rodeo star who does calf roping all over the country, a new chiropractor who will be opening his practice in Erie soon, a former CU Buff football player and a competitve shooter who competes with dual pistols. Knowing these people and their stories made work interesting again. It connected me to them. I was able to learn how to use my knowledge for the good of the employees. An autistic boy who was being bullied became the darling of the unload. A new seasonal girl got hired on permanently who was struggling to make ends meet. But on Christmas Eve it all sank in for me. I was working next to a new girl extracting her tale and feeling the old gut punch. She had relocated from Miami, orignially from Haiti and her apartment hadn't panned out so she was living in an extended stay hotel by DIA taking an Uber to work every night in Longmont. I could see the worry in her face. I was overhwhelmed by her need and humbled by the blessings I live in. I asked if they'd ever turned her away and sent her home when we had too many employees and she nodded tightly. Just then Dave one of the sups walked by and asked me how badly I wanted to be at work. I rolled my eyes and said "Is that a trick question? it's Christmas Eve." He gave me a raw window into how hard his job is and said "they're making me cut someone and I hate to send these new people home over and over." Having just heard such a hard story I instantly agreed to go home even though I knew I was easily losing $100. As I left the building I popped my head into Thomas' office to drop off Christmas cookies for the team from some sweet ladies in Erie and mentioned her. I didn't go into her problems or share too much. I just suggested that any time he had to cut her, to try to do it before she came because she was Ubering from DIA. Thomas looked stricken and I connected with him in that moment knowing how hard it must be to manage a team of people with such heart wrenching stories. I wondered what she would do on Christmas but knew I hadn't build enough relationship for her to come to my house. A couple days after Christmas I saw him cut 6 people and then I saw her show up an hour late and he kept her.
My Christmas was lovely. I was cozy with my people, watching grateful children enthuse over our gifts and cooking and baking and relaxing and watching Christmas movies. It was like most other Christmases aside from the year my dad died. I'm grateful to feel connected to the real world with real struggles nowadays. I'm motivated to up my game and be a bigger force of God's love to the one's in need. It's an awkward path requiring me to work on my rudimentary social skills but worth it.

Weary

I woke up at 1AM to the sound of sobbing. Eden's cold had progressed into her ears and she was doubled over in pain. I was supposed to get up for work at 2 but at 2 I was still holding Eden. So I called in and got the usual jerk reply from Thomas. But something happened a few days ago that changed the way I see Thomas. So I tipped my head and said "ok." And I let his reply go. I stayed home, slept, held my hurting child, made Hazels lunch, drove Kait to school and did the things all of the other moms in the world are doing every day. Right now I'm pondering whether Eden will need me to take her to the doctor instead of going to school. School is kinda winning. She's been sleeping deeply for 7 hours.
A few days ago I got amazing news that I got grants to pay for my school. Naturally the first thing to cross my mind was "do I really need to work at UPS?" Sometimes I think people assume UPS isn't so bad because I've lasted over a year. But it is. I'm literally gritting my teeth through this job day after day. The work is grueling, the time of day is brutal, my boss is unbearable and the building is disgusting. I am eternally grateful for what this job has provided but every day I show up is a grinding victory. I always think I can make little jokes and Thomas will suddenly act like a normal human and play along. It's kind of a horrible little trick I play on myself that unerringly ends with me receiving a crushing insult. I lightly told him now that my school is paid for by grants maybe I should quit. He gave me a "why the hell would I care" look and said "ok." I felt the hit but I joked to everyone that I should let him hope I'm about to quit every other month or so. I know that doesn't sound so awful but I think if you did a job like mine day after day for over a year, trying so hard to be a valuable team member but deep down knowing that you probably don't really carry your weight in a warehouse full of men, you'd feel the same little sinking deflation that I did in that moment. I mind game the hell out of that job but with one single final word of dismissal from my manager I felt all of the tension I hold in my frame at work go limp like a noodle. I tried to mentally rebound and thought of every valuable co-worker I've watched leave a gaping hole in our shift and tried to rally but something had cracked. I certainly don't go to work every day for Thomas to show appreciation or I would have quit on my second day like 90% of the new hires. I go to get a paycheck and maintain a free health insurance plan. But the real the truth is, we are all looking for worth in what we do and how we do it. Whether we are folding laundry or stacking boxes or designing houses, there's a piece of us that needs someone to stand next to us and say "this truck looks like shit but thank God Dave didn't load it." I mean... that's the kind of crap Ernie gives me and it works just as well as an atta boy. But truly, working nights increases your chance of heart problems and cancer. Working nights wrecks your serotonin levels and messes with your mind like nothing else. Doing all of that and adding manual labor and the worlds worst boss... well. I hit a really low point.
The next Monday I was working and telling God all about the things I should say to Thomas, holding my insult close and asking Him if this was finally a sign that it was done and UPS wasn't my assignment anymore. God always loves those conversations because I'm talking and I have some small measure of manners so He knows I'll try to listen to His replies. He's never delicate with me because I'm not a delicate girl so he cut right to the chase. I'm not gonna lie, it's my love language when someone gives me a hard dose in love... but only in love. Only when they know my heart and love it for the twisted well meaning mess it is. My dad had that place and my friends Bart and Jenny and Danya have that place and they use it well. God does too but only when I remember to give him access. The thing about the one's who love you is they always wait for access.
He said "well, you actually did ok. You didn't throw a box at him, you didn't yell at him and you didn't corner him in the office and emasculate him before slamming the door."
I have no idea where God got those examples.
I said "well, there's still time. I might give him a piece of my mind yet."
God said "he's watching you."
I said "I know, he thrives off of every slice he takes of me and he glories in my humiliation."
He said "Show him something to hunger for Elizabeth. Make it good."
I said "so you're telling me this is some kind of long suffering assignment that could have no end in sight?" I wasn't happy. I wasn't one bit happy but God knows something about me that Satan never can beat, He knows to always give me a challenge. Something I think I can't do. Something I know I can't do. I need the wrestle. I need the angst and I really need the surrender. So I surrendered. It was like my eyeballs came out of my head and took an aerial view of Elizabeth at UPS and God hit a reset button. I still want out. I still want my energy and my 110 pound body back and I still want to work with cheerful people but this is real. Real forces are at work for Thomas's heart. I know they are and I see him wrestle. He knows I see it and it makes him feel vulnerable so he lashes out at me to prove I'm just another faker. I can't be a "good enough Christian" to be a witness, all I can be is a surrendered human who lets God do what He wants. Apparently He wants me to struggle on. And I've given up on getting sympathy from anyone for this path I chose or this path that chose me but holy shit it sucks guys. Seriously it sucks. Please don't tell Thomas I said shit. He pounces on that like a cat on mouse.

One last thing

Tomorrow I'll go to see a movie which is adapted from a book that had a small hand in inspiring me to climb out of the sea of warm laundry, turn off the Outlander (sorry Juline), put down the wine (well not really), stop giving up on myself and go. I think getting stuck is utterly common, comfortably miserable, conveniently restricting and completely escapable.

I remember spending 20 years saying that if I started working out I'd probably get fat. So I got a physical job and promptly gained seven pounds. See? I knew it. And I pat my round tummy and sigh. But it's all worth it. I welcome seven pounds that come with this journey. It's a constant test of total humility which verges on humiliation from one moment to the next. I said to Jody the other day that sometimes it feels cringy doing a job where I'm substantially physically inferior to my peers and then downright gutting to go directly to school afterwards where I am colossally academically inferior to my peers. There's a lighthearted joy I find in just doing it all anyway. I remember telling one teacher that I know I just have to be extra patient with myself which made her smile because it's pretty much the only way of making it in my shoes. I am just one more adult student starting from zero and fighting my way through this. What I really want to say is, go watch that Bernadette movie. Maybe you won't be crazy like me, but maybe you'll take the leap out of the laundry if you're stuck.

I've been up for 18 hours and I "just needed to write a little something so I can fall asleep." I think I'm there. Goodnight world. Big hugs. 

Another year of school

The house is so silent but their passage is marked

I see a hat and a bag... a cup of unifnished tea

I miss their giggles, their smell, our snuggles; we melt

I can't wait for their stories, their accomplishments and feats

I love to see twinkles and hold hands and make plans

To smooth hair and rub smudges and cook with some help

But sometimes... I'm tired and weary and weak 

I miss the good and the lovely; gone like the mist

A mama's not perfect, she's not always steady and true 

But the feet that come running always seem ready to start anew

An ordinary thought about perspective

Sometimes it feels like I'm doing a hard life and I'm throwing my challenges in my kids faces when they seem rather flacid and full of malaise. I do not mention the 15 years I spent flailing in warm laundry whining about sore nipples and nutella on the curtains. I do not mention the fact that I married a strikingly handsome man who provides for me with a cringing level of dedication and adoration. I do not mention the fact that although I have a tough job early in the morning, I drive a fancy car and wear an apple watch and hundred dollar headphones and fancy steel toe boots while I do it. I do not mention the fact that I go to the grocery store and find out how much I'm spending at the register because I have enough money to just buy groceries and deal with the consequences. I never tell them that. I don't mention that although I FEEL like I'm stressed out and run ragged by working a crazy schedule and going to school, I don't actually live a life governed by food stamps, WIC, food pantries or even reduced lunches at school. When I tell them that I grew up without air conditioning in a double wide in Arkansas with rust bucket vehicles they wouldn't be caught dead in, I don't mention that I didn't personally know anyone who grew up on more land, least of all in a river vally in the bend of a river. It's not about comparison, it's about perspective. They say you can either live in a state of gratitude or you can live in a state of victimhood and I feel nothing short of a gush of happiness when I arrow toward gratitude. I am grateful for true love, true friends, close children, health, opportunity to pursue a career and most of all the unconditional love of God. I know I'm a person with a lot of work to do before God can do what he wants to through me and I'm dedicated to the process no matter how hard it is. No matter what, I'll always be on the journey with my special people. 

Stay the course

The very best lessons I’ve ever had in life came at a great price... and yet letting kids experience such things is rather akin to taking a cold bath or licking a lemon. It is so unpleasant and seems so avoidable. I’ve always marveled at people who have parenting strategies. They know the rules and always have their what to do next plan. Not me. Every hit is a shock. Every revelation is groundbreaking.
In the last year we have had friend drama extraordinaire, a court date for vape pens on school property, several successful attempts to sneak out of my house at night, illegal photos on phones, underage drinking in my very own basement, lying about homework which almost led to failing classes, a concussion from a classmate, threats of a voodoo doll from a classmate who took my child’s lock of hair, inappropriate touch from classmates, the worlds creepiest death threat from a first grader and even a ride in a car with a driver under the influence. I wish I could say I’d do better with a do over but I’m certain I wouldn’t. This stuff can only be handled with supernatural protection and wisdom. My new epiphany is that I am not blessed with a natural wisdom. I must fully rely on God for wisdom which I need constantly. I’m choosing to be thankful that God gives me the windows into my kids worlds to pluck them out of danger and set them aright. I’m choosing to thank Him for protecting them through the minefield we call childhood. Do I have bad kids? No. Am I disappointed? No, not really. This is the season in which we face these situations with a learning mindset and thank God for every opportunity of conversation. So while a younger parent might read this and hope to avoid what I’ve faced, I feel only thankful that I was able to enter into the story with my kids and walk by their sides.
If you are in the thick of it, I just want to say... me too. If you think you’ve dodged the bullet, I doubt it friend. 😂

Because He lives

Many children on this earth will wonder if they are pleasing their parents even after they leave home. They'll feel the crush of their parents expectations for better or worse long after they get a "C" on their report card or wreck their first car. I think for some, it drives them and for some it haunts them but hopefully this little post here will be something my kids can always look at with peace. A big part of my parenting goals come from the way my parents raised me and a big part comes from my mentor Sarah. I remember talking about one of my kids struggling with something in school and her saying "raise your kids to be kind, there's plenty of achievers, but kindness will endure." It took the pressure off for me. I knew I was chasing rabbits with all of the academic check boxes but really felt entirely obligated to chase those bunnies until that moment. We weren't all made for excellence in every area of life but we were made to love, and so in my very imperfect way I began angling that direction. I helped with Kids Week every year and asked my kids to help with me. Well, I actually just made them. Sarah inspired that too. I remember asking her kids if serving was optional when your mom runs kid ministry and they never had a chance to answer. Sarah's back snapped into a military posture and she said "nope, serving is not optional." So I copted that script and drove it into the ground baby. I have so many good, hard, fun and crazy memories with my kids from kids week.

This year ws different and amazing. If you ever missed my copious facebook posts and needed to ask me what I think is the most important part of God's work, I would say kids ministry, crisis pregnancy support and missions. That's my heartbeat. But then there's seasons. I'm not in a season of ministry.  I guess I'm kinda out there in the UPS mission field or something. So this week while I toiled away at a dead end job and went to school, my monkeys volunteered their hearts out. Every morning they were waking themselves up and getting dressed and eating breakfast and going to kids week all by themselves. Every day when they got home I could see Jesus literally pulsing in their chests. There were plenty of hurdles and they were met with pluck and mettle. Monday was the trickiest day, they had no car so all four of them biked to church and back. Kait had to be at the church by 7:30 so she biked alone every day except Thursday when Eden decided to get up early and drive her. Tuesday was Nick's birthday which made not a difference to him, he went and served with a smile. I would watch videos of the play Kait was in and listen to them tell me all about their days, knowing that this serving wasn't done to please anyone, it was done as an offering to Jesus. And I can say, just sitting there smelling the aroma of that offering was stunning... and I cried a lot. I mean I stand amazed. I love watching kids love. I love diligence, obedience, perseverance, service, sacrifice and hearts on fire for Jesus. So I told them, "if you ever wonder if you were enough to please me, yes you have arrived. You completed that mission with flying colors because now I know He is in you and I can't wait to see where it all goes."
Sidenote, Hazel was technically not a volunteer, she was a participant of kids week but seeing her spirit and motivation was just as inspiring. She's currently sleeping on me at 4PM because she's completely exhausted and happy.

Happy Dance

It was mid July when I sat on the edge of the pool with my friend Christina. The afternoon was waning and the heat was fading. I had chosen my cheerleader with care. I was talking to a woman who globe trots around the world offering retreats to missionaries and engages in extreme sports as well as raising successful kids. So, her mind is what I'd call...  tactical and gritty. I said "look I'm not saying I want to be a straight A student, I'm thinking I just take a "pass the class" attitude and get it done. Do you think it's even tenable? I don't know anything about school." After a long measured silence while looking off into the distance with her head tipped in contemplation a slow nod began and a smile bloomed. "Yes, I think you can do it but it will be hard... don't go full time."
Soon I was waking up at 2 AM and doing the dirtiest job I could find. Not really a criteria, just a coincidence I suppose. I had googled what part time job would pay the most for a college education. If you've never googled it, I recommend it. It's quite interesting. Hello UPS. All they asked was that I become a human sacrifice and they would pay for my school. How bad could it be? Whatever you're thinking, it was worse. I've watched countless people not last a week and if I hadn't grown up in a 110 degree hayfield in Arkansas, I would have quit too. On top of it being a truly terrible job, it's a union job. This has pros and cons. The pros are the amazing insurance benefits and... nothing else and the cons are innumerable. The biggest con is that the management has 30 days to either break you or fire you before you become unionized and then they can't fire you without finding a dead body in your car. So Thomas had already let four people go when I showed up and he had no newbies to focus on except me. I could not believe what I put myself through for $11 an hour. It was completely insane. As Thomas focused on breaking me, I focused on school and my plan. I remember when he did finally break me, but somehow finding my end satisfied him and he kept me, probably because I didn't cry. I just offered to quit if that was what he wanted.
Meanwhile the home front was not going well. By that, I mean that the A-Team was in full blown crisis. on at least four fronts if not five... Hazel seemed to be hanging on by a tether.  I have zero desire to go into that but just kind of imagine me at that job giving a hysterical laugh when Thomas threatened to make me cry because the hell he created for me was a relief from home. From September to December I was in a steady and strong decline. Basically a snowball gathering momentum as I plunged down the hill. I had a computer fall on my head causing some weird apparently untreatable injury, home life was still bad, I started having friend trouble and then...they cranked our hours up to over 40 a week. I wasn't quite sure if I was in a pressure cooker or just being deep fried. By January it was do or die. In one day I got the courage to make the college thing happen, I took the placement tests, took the orientation and registered. I wasn't playing around anymore. The counselor was astounded the classes even had openings. One class was full so I joined a waitlist then was added the next day. Then days later I started college.
By the way my home life was still super hard. Crazy hard. A couple of my friendships were even harder. My heart was hard too. I can't think of anything that wasn't hard except Pickles fur.
Around this time Thomas and I had concluded that we definitely hated each other and it turned out to be a benefit because he had no power over me other than to cut my hours (I swear I saw him checking my car for a body), so he did, smugly telling me to come to work a half an hour after the team every day. Which I appreciated since I was enrolling in school. I needed to leave work early two days a week and somehow the center manager Brett found it in his heart to let me. So by some miracle for the first month of school I was only working about 15 hours a week. Silver lining or just God carrying me through such a hard time I can't believe it happened? Definitely God.
School turned out to be quite fun and my teacheres just loved that I wanted to be there at all so I was welcomed with open arms. But it was hard. I cried as I faced the possibilty of failure several times. I stalled until the last possible moment every week, afraid to do things my interior design teacher assigned that I had never done. I really struggled. Then sometime in March or April I realized I was actually probably going to make it through my first semester after all. It wasn't a breakthrough, just a growing change in me.
But also in April I hit a personal low. If you didn't think I could get lower, neither did I until this hit. I could barely function. I tanked into a deep depression. I quit doing my school work. The weight on me was physical. I could barely move. Could not motivate. I was barely going through the motions and then Eden's youth pastor sent me a note saying Eden was worried and she wondered if there was anything she could do. I felt the burn of embarrassment on my cheeks even as I praised God that Eden has someone to confide in who really loves her. And just knowing that I was loved in a most incredibly unlovable time in my life, gave me the tiniest little boost I needed to do hard things and keep trying in life. I climbed slowly and determinedly out of that hole.
Monday was the end of the semester. I have two weeks of Momsummer and one week of summer with the kids then summer semester. I have all A's which is hilarious and surprising and gratifying and empowering. I was also awarded a shocking grant for $1250. I've used the grant for counseling because UPS pays for all of my school and I'm super fucked up. God provides in amazing ways. I also just reached the employment requirements for health insurance through UPS. My family will save hundreds of dollars a month just in premiums and we will also save on healthcare because it's a really nice insurance plan. I also just got a $2 an hour raise which is retroactive to my first day of employment last August. This means I'm hiring a housecleaner to come in once a month because seriously you guys? I JUST CAN'T.

SUMMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mothering now

The sun warmed my back as a cool breeze tickled my skin. I was leaned over my bike handlebars watching Hazel tie her shoe. It was not yet a deft crisp effort, but more of a methodical painstaking process that she patiently applied herself to. It filled me with joy. Her shining blonde head was tipped forward with chin tucked tightly to her chest. Time stood still as I breathed in the moment. And then she did it, the last of the Allen brood could tie her shoes. It settled deeply in my consciousness, the picture of her ice cream smeared fingers and messy hair falling around her shoulders while a diligent brain willed those little hands to new mastery.
As we sailed home from the ice cream shop, a memory of fixing Eden's eyebrows earlier brought bubbles of laughter to my lips. I knew she was egging me on to fix them just so she could video her mother doing one of the most annoying things on earth to send to friends and yet... the need to fix that eyebrow overcame all sense of self preservation. The hilarious snapchat video couldn't wait for me to discover it. She flashed it in my face while her eyes danced with mirth and peals of laughter filled our yard. Celebrating our whole selves is elemental to happiness.
I stood at the counter gathering the orange juice and champagne with Nick at my elbow. He lifted his chin in supplication and said "is there anything I can do to help?" Knowing his heart, my mind grasped for a job to give him and I found myself in a rare moment without an answer. If there's anything I never want to say to Nick it's that I don't need anything, because he simply thrives upon meeting my needs. He leaned into me and our eyes met. I love this boy. He fills me with peace.
Kait plopped into the chair across from me for a chat and I gazed at her poised beauty and her caring eyes but how to reach that soul? Our conversation meandered through trivialities but then I leaned toward her with every fiber of me hoping. Winning the heart of your child and teaching them to bend with the words of wise counsel is not a casually driven art. Finding the ability to hone your emotional intelligence to the angle that hits them just right is tricky at best. I weighed each word, searching for the ones that would work. As I spoke I watched her eyes flicker with annoyance then swing back with surprise. Was I winning? With children it's always too soon to tell. Oh but I pray.

 I suppose the best of life comes upon us without warning and overtakes us like the aroma of lilacs and leaves with a trail of warmth in it's wake.

Perfectly Reasonable Expectations

I stared at the end of semester survey with a glazed expression, a bent aching back and very little will.  The only reason I was filling it out was because it kept popping up when I logged into the college portal and it was slowly driving me crazy. The third question was "What could you as a student have done better?" I felt a little ache inside me as I reflected on my journey through this class. While everyone else in the room had steadily plodded through, never asking questions during lectures and always arriving to class early and prepared, I had put my awkward insecurity on prominent display, skidding into the classroom with stinky armpits and a haze of exhaustion, five minutes late after changing clothes in the car, losing my flash drive halfway through the semester, forgetting my portfolio and always always always asking poor Claudia to repeat herself. I wincingly thought about all of the lectures I missed for my kids and spring break. I cringed as I thought of all of the assignments Claudia had extended deadlines for me. And my answer surpised me.

I wrote "I refuse to be hard on myself. The very act of enrolling in this class was one of monumental courage for me. I spent 21 years avoiding education after not finishing high school. I think I did well."

 And just like that God redeemed the really horrible terrible no good semester of high school that has haunted me all these years.  I'm sooooo glad for this experience because Claudia showed me the proper balance of grace and expectations. She taught with humor and gentle strength. Yes, I'm just so thankful... and I'm glad I did the survey because the other six questions were all about her and I had all good things to say.
I've had a really amazing weekend with my three daughters. They are literally my best friends in the world and I love sharing life with them. It's just amazing to me that God sent them to me. I'm not even kidding, they're willing to eat fancy cheese and watch chick flicks for days. What if God had given me hyper kids that ran around the house screaming and pummeling each other? I don't know what I'd do. My cup runneth over. We went to church today which feels so good after a long break, although we had a come to Jesus meeting afterwards about appropriate attire. 

This morning at church and I had some rocks in my gut but it was good. It was solid. God used the first words to prick my heart and he didn't stop the whole hour. Some of the real highlights were when I was on my broken record prayer of how to trust people and God said to me that trusting in anyone except him was bound to lead to disappointment and I was like oh yeah I forogt you told me that ten million times! And then when I was listing off things that had me all tangled up, He said "hey, you gotta walk the walk, you can't just throw a fit and ask someone else to do all of the hard things." And I conceded that this was not the first time He had told me such things. I went down to pray with sweet Rosie. I told her I have this super unique problem of listening to God, understanding what He's asking of me and then walking away and doing something completely stupid in the heat of the moment in direct contrast to the original plan. I don't think she found it remotely unique, possibly borderline boring if Rosie could ever be bored, which I doubt. So she prayed over me with such wisdom and faith that I felt really optimistic about my problem. And she always ends with this shining light in her eyes and says "please find me when God answers this prayer! I get so excited when people tell me how He took care of it." And that request means something to me because I've hunted her down and told her how He answered before. And it's always unexpectedly perfect. Which reminds me of my funny work stories.

My atheist coworker likes to heckle me about my faith and politics but particularly why I don't pray about things when I'm whining. Like, why isn't the man upstairs listening to me and making the path before me into a golf green. I've always told her I do pray, the answers are just kinda funny and snarky and not what I have in mind so I tend to try not to pray anything super stupid. She didn't really know what I meant until one whiny day while I pittered on about how stinky the clerk was, she suggested I pray that he would shower on Mondays before work, which I stupidly pronounced to be a great idea. 

When I was about halfway through that prayer God replied with "Why don't you make better use of your prayer time by praying for your coworker who had the serious car accident and then pray that you learn to love the clerk better?" 

I felt the sting but wanted to share the humble pie so I passed that little gem of a reply on to the "genius" who suggested the prayer. Her reply was "Touche." 

A few weeks later she suggested I pray that God would send my flash drive back to me. I rolled my eyes and asked her what she thought He'd say. She acted affronted and said "well do you have audience with the man upstairs or not?" I said of course I do and as I've told you, I'm not always in a mood to be humbled. My prediction is that God will say to me "Elizabeth, this lost flash drive is a great lesson for you to learn to be disciplined and organized and to rely fully on me when you start feeling the tunnel vision coming on due to stress that you never should have put yourself through." Again my friend shrugged and laughed and agreed that this was likely the case but as she walked away she said, "Hey it's not like you hate the guy, you just wish he'd shower, you'd think the man upstairs could have a little pity." 

And if there's one thing in this life I've learned, it's that God is not a pitying God. He made us and he literally knows what we are made of and it's pretty amazing stuff. I can honestly say that I could make it through this season of unwashed coworkers and lost flash drives without God's help. Gasp. What I will not make it through, is forgiving my husband and trusting God to help him forgive me. I will not make it through momming without my God. I cannot do friendships without Him. I am incapable of escaping depression without him. I will not ever properly forgive msyelf for all of my failures without Him. Cannot do it. You want to talk about getting wrapped around the axel? It's trying to do all of that stuff without His infinite wisdom and perfect balance of grace and perfectly reasonable expectations. 

School, therapy, love and hot tea

I was sitting in the dentist chair with an implacable face that disconcerted the assistant. Finally after several awkward attempts thwarted by my noncommittal replies she just came out and asked me what my plan was for my teeth. I gazed into the distance with a vague expression and said “nothing, I might think about it later if I stay at UPS and it’s free.” She began babbling about necessity which faded into the background as I continued pursuing the ten ultimate kitchens in Colorado in a magazine. They weren’t really. I personally like airy kitchens, but then she started to prattle something about telling the dentist and seeing what she thought. It didn’t matter what the dentist thought. I drink tea every day and I’ve never needed a filling and I never will. The cheerful dentist burst into the room to play the good cop, telling me I was completely right about my teeth and they seem to be just fine in spite of the shadows between two molars that haven’t changed between X-rays. I liked this message so I threw myself into a delightful visit with both of the very sweet ladies until fluoride came up which I politely declined. By now the assistant was tracking. She said “now I didn’t apply fluoride last time either did I?” I smiled and said “no, you sent it with me and I threw it away. I’m not much of a believer in fluoride.” She laughed incredulously and said “well you could have told me!” I laughed with her and mentally shook my head. No I couldn’t. Professionals love to argue and there’s things I like to argue about. My teeth? Nah but I do know exactly what kind of teeth I have, sugar proof, impermeable, granite that chips a little on the corners. I like em scraped and polished. That is all. And it was that simple because I didn’t take any of it personally. I didn’t care that she was trying to boss me around and it was fine. Would that I knew how to apply that method to my whole life. Which leads me to therapy.
I’m not sure if it’s common to be rightly accused of being cold, mean, hard, sharp, angry or bitter but I’ll raise my hand. Because I have. My whole life. I have a hair trigger when someone is on my “personally offensive, possibly manipulative, likely controlling” radar. I have an internal siren going off ten times a day while I frantically process all of the data to determine whether people are a danger to me or my people. It has prompted shock and awe explosions, long Cold War battles and tactically precise missions, all a complete and utter waste of time and energy. So, after the second time my therapist said “you don’t have to take that personally” it clicked. No, I don’t. I’m not sure why that has been said to me a thousand other ways that just didn’t click but right in this moment and right this way did. I went home and tumbled it a few ways and as I did old information kinda grabbed on and fit together with it in such a way that I finally understood drama. I’ve always said “why am I in a perpetual cycle of drama? Why is everything so crucial and important to me that it crushes my chest?”  And that is it. I take it personally and I do it because of a lack of self confidence. So my therapist gave me a little thing to read each day, a little reminder that builds personal power to prevent all of that angst.
“I have a clear vision - I am stronger than I know - I am wise - well equipped - intelligent - I have abundance in my life - blessed. Forgiven and innocent - I am blessed - “
Now, I’m not saying this is it, I’m all better, I’ll never throw a box at my boss again but I am saying this might help me breathe out my anxiety better, and love my family more openly and serve others with less distrust. Here’s hoping!
Last weekend Jody and I celebrated 17 years of marriage. I was 19 when I met him and 22 when we married so it’s a significant chunk of my life. And it started out as such an easy love. Then we added four kids, cancer, unemployment, resurfacing childhood hurts, grief, depression, a child with anxiety, a child full of mischief, a child with learning struggles, a night job, college and that dirty word called laundry and I’m telling you it’s a journey, a really complicated, sensitive and worthwhile journey. So, we are trying to deal with some things and trying to remember to celebrate the good good life we have been given and also to just relax, not take things personally and pay special attention to people.

I never knew

   Dear kids, feel free to put this on my gravestone:
 "She did good sometimes, and terrible sometimes. I'll have some PTSD but also some fantastic memories... couch time was required but the therapist loved the stories." 
   I had a friendship breakup recently that impacted my family's whole life. It was really sad and hard and confusing to navigate but we are kinda ok. I still roll it all around wishing I knew exactly what God's going to do with it all because I'm displaced and sometimes quite devastated with my new place in my community. I'm not much of a "wishing the past would change" kind of person. I just roll with it and hold on to beautiful things and get all sappy and nostalgic about them, but sometimes I do wish as I look back on damaged relationships that we had looked for more good things in one another and found them so the world could stay golden. But as they all say, utopia would teach us nothing and we would never grow. So, I'm holding the second adult friendship loss of my life in my hands asking it to teach me things, for personal growth, my current and future friendships, my marriage and even my relationship with God. And of course, it's already happening. I've struggled to give my kids sound friendship advice their whole lives because I am very impulsive and I either confronted and damaged relationships or feared my impulsiveness and wussed out and damaged relationships.  But I'm realizing, it's not about learning exactly how other people do it, so much as developing a reverence for personal honor, always getting back up and trying again and a very fine attuning to the Holy Spirit. In my lifelong rebellious habit, I will reinvent the wheel and teach my kids that they have to be thinkers who are bold, kind, gritty, magnanimous, forgiving and Holy Spirit led." 
I read the other day that each enneagram type should hold one thought close for comfort. The enneagram 8 was along the lines of "not everyone will like you and that's ok." It isn't a get out of jail free card for accountability of our abrasiveness, it's just a reality for everyone... but 8's particularly should keep in mind so they keep on trucking when the going gets rough and they need to keep trying after a casualty.

Making Peace with my Eight

 

I scanned a package and threw it directly at my managers face and yelled "here's another mis-spa and by the way maybe you should tell the unload to send the damn totes when you shut off sure-post especially when you're standing right there!" He flinched and avoided my eyes and picked up the box and walked away. I had completely had it. I turned to a terrified loader and bellowed "What's that you were saying about me not being a bitch? Well now you've seen it." I stalked out of the building and drove home possessed with rage at my inept and completely spineless manager who had had the nerve to tell me to "focus on my work" and and as it faded I was as usual overwhelmed with self hate. I loathed myself. Almost home, I started crying because I hate it when my anger wins. It wasn't the first time my manager and I had warred over who should be in charge and I can guarantee it won't be the last. I'm not really underling material as I'm learning to realize. If my co-workers had any idea of the things I do for their wellbeing they would love me, eh I think they love me anyway. But they don't have a clue of the energy I put into that silly place and it's at a cost. I didn't really understand why I do it or why I can't stop until I read advice for someone who has to manage an 8. It is funny and so true. "If an 8 complains a lot, they are probably speaking up for many people who are afraid to complain." "If an 8 sees injustice they will thwart it." As an 8, I have ordered 24x36 maps of cities with new streets so the drivers know where houses are because I think it's ridiculous not to. As an 8, I have taken numerous safety concerns to management with such vociferous complaints that management capitulated. Things that supervisors had given up on and said to me "it's above my pay grade"... I got em done and quick. As an 8, I have forced change in the way they park the trucks for the warmth of the pre-loaders. I've also driven changes in the way mislabeled packages are handled and seen my point proven over and over. I'm never afraid to come up with an idea and being told no or being ignored just fuels my fire until I get it done. I've completely rearranged every job they've given me for maximum efficiency and it works. I've stood toe to toe with my manager telling him to get a backbone and stand up for his people and he's a better man for it. He hates me but it pushes him to be a better manager. Could I learn better tact? Yes, clearly. Do I get off on it every time I go to work and see people doing what I thought of? YESSSSSSSS! It's the most satisfying feeling in the world! Knowing that the right people have had a button installed so they can safely turn off the belt because I escalated and escalated until it was done and walking past a freshly welded piece of sheet metal that could have sliced an arm open because I met with the safety committee chairman gives me total satisfaction.

Years ago when I exploded on people I always told myself I was going to beat this but I never did. For a few years I was able to somewhat smother it by literally losing my identity but that proved to be quite detrimental to my entire personality.

When I lost my identity I remember saying to people "I'm stuck, I feel no more motivation to do anything other than lay in a bed of warm laundry eating bread." I would also whine. "I don't know what to be. I don't want to go to school. It will be too much work. I'm too tired. I have too many kids. I'm too overwhelmed. I just can't."
It was a far cry from the little firebrand of a few years earlier who had bought and sold furniture like a whiz. It was nowhere close to the woman who after being royally screwed over by a hospital, home birthed three babies and cloth diapered and sold those cloth diapers as a supplemental income. It didn't hold a candle to the woman who supported her husband through cancer, fighting like a champ
for the best medical care and insurance coverage. Somehow in smothering my anger, I had smothered my soul and was now a lost and very sad and very non-confrontational weenie... all because I hated my feisty fatal flaw and all of the damage it had done to my relationships. In my new identity every conflict was now absorbed by me. I would pray through it, focus on loving people, remembering the grace I needed and wanted to give.  I tried to go deeper than my anger, asking myself what was the underlying emotion that caused it. I was single-mindedly focused on smothering the anger and not acting on it at all. But it bled into my everything. I lost all self confidence. I'd ask my mentor Sarah if she thought I should confront someone at work and list off their grievances because I didn't trust my instincts and I was sure if I opened the door to conflict, anger would reign. I was afraid to tell people they hurt me because conflict was a guaranteed escalation to anger. It ultimately failed because it wasn't really me and it stole my mojo. I know it's probably heresy to say it, but that's not the way God made me.

A little over a year ago I read a book about the enneagram called "The Road Back to You" by Ian Cron. It began with a story about his daughter, an 8 that sounded eerily like me at her age. I studiously ignored this fact because I hated the idea of being an 8. Instead I examined the 4, mostly because I had no career and it seemed 4's had a terrible time holding down careers and furthermore everyone told me I was a 4 so I reluctantly took the title. I certainly fit the bill. I was always complaining and clearly loved home decor and couldn't keep a job. I must be a 4. I wasn't thrilled with the number but hey there were worse numbers like 8's. When someone asked me what an 8 was my brow lowered and I said "I don't get along with 8's." I put up with the 4 title for a few months but then read another enneagram book "The Path Between US" which was cowritten by Ian Cron and Suzanne Stabile still zeroing in on the 4. As I read about this capricious, compassionate, moody 4, I felt blank. My friends would try  to say I must be be the best person in the world at supporting grievers. I didn't want to disagree but deep down I rarely went to dark places in my mind and often refused to watch sad movies. I had learned and developed an appreciation for sadness and grief through my dad's death a few years ago but prior to that, I had precious few characteristics of a 4. Suddenly it just didn't jive. I announced I hated the enneagram and thought it was idiotic. My friends laughed but I was seriously angry at the enneagram. Whenever I tried to verbalize it, somehow it would come back that I was just a 4 and didn't want to fit into the enneagram because it would hurt my uniqueness. So I tried to wrestle with that. I just couldn't. The more I heard about being a 4, the less I related at my gut level. I googled it relentlessly and studied the enneagram and took quizzes and
 always avoided the 8 until one day the 8 came looking for me. I let a little squeak out that I
wondered if I was an 8 sometime mid summer. Everyone told me no, I wasn't an 8, maybe during my childhood I had "pretended to be an 8" to get through a crisis. I wrestled with it mostly because I didn't fit the aggressive, successful power player description... anymore. As I reflected on my years of online debating of abortion and religion for sport and a deep desire to protect women and babies, I saw an 8, not a 4. As I considered my propensity for jumping into other peoples fights when the wrong person was losing, I again saw an 8, not a 4. When I pondered my 20 year struggle to show Jody proper respect, trust and esteem, I saw an 8, not a 4. When I thought about all of the relationships I had wrecked with my absolute and uncompromising harmful words, I again just saw an 8, not a 4. But what about my rebellious streak I kept thinking. More than anything I hate being told what to do. I was literally googling "rebellious enneagram number." I got a 7 or 8, not a 4. I looked at the 7 briefly but I enjoy seriousness just as much as fun so it didn't grab me.
One day I read a post on instagram at “Your Enneagram Coach” by Beth McCord that convinced me I was an 8.  And I just felt relieved. The number I hated the most was like a blessed relief. I had to come to terms with the real me and learn how to grow it. It was kind of like I woke up from a coma. Maybe I had been trying to operate from a 9 wing? I don't know.

"Control me." I felt a visceral reaction to the words. Then "the burden" yes, why did it always seem like I was going to be the only one to protect everyone? Somehow this little blip was screaming my pain as a person. Always advocating. So, so exhausting and often fruitless. 

This came right in the middle of a huge conflict with my manager at UPS. I did have a strong distrust of him and I wanted to make sure he couldn't control me. I had been obsessing over it, as a matter of fact and I had purposefully not told him how much physical pain I was in because I had to look strong. I prayed about it and God told me "let go, I've got you." So I did, after doing plenty of damage with my razor tongue and sure enough God came in and scooped me up and carried me through it all. 

One day I was cross examining my center manager on a policy that affected union workers. He looked a little alarmed like maybe I was going to cause problems so he spent a lengthy amount of time explaining how he was approaching the policy. I walked away and worked for an hour processing all of the angles and decided he was being above board and none of my coworkers were getting the shaft. Finally, I looked for him and said "sorry for that, I'm just a very suspicious person but I know I can trust you." He laughed incredulously and reminded me of all of the times he had earned my trust. I nodded a little shamefully and said "It's just my personality, I'm very protective and always questioning people's intentions. Call it vigilance I guess." I think that day I realized just how cynical of an 8 I really am. 

I read something recently "emotional intelligence is the ability to regulate your own emotions and the emotions of others around you." It kind of reminded me of a question my dad used to ask me when I was angry "But what is your goal? Use your energy on what will yield your desired result." Anger gives me energy which I often lack. I think managing the power of anger with a bit of strategy angled for an outcome could really put anger to good use. So that's my new plan. 

Realizing I was an 8 gave me the courage to go to school. It made me believe that I'm strong and resilient and brave just like I always used to be before I zeroed in on my weakness and started hating myself. In that way, the enneagram has set me free. Sure, I have a scary anger management problem I clearly need to learn to manage. Like my mentor Sarah says, "everyone has their stuff."

The max

I was sitting on the couch beside a sick kid today although I was supposed to be on a field trip to a helicopter engineering firm and I tipped face forward into a couch cushion and sank into oblivion. I'm not sure what was the final straw. Was it the moment I stood in the school foyer asking for a grocery bag just in case she puked... that she then immediately puked in? I'm going with yes. I did not emerge from that coma until one of my kids called me to discuss their illness. My life has been legit busy. I realize I used to be the person who complained if there was something on my calendar every single day of a week. I'm not that girl anymore. I'm operating at max capacity, making two thermoses of tea before I leave the house for that ding bat job starting at 4AM every day, then going  straight to Fort Collins for school twice a week peeling off layers of work clothes while I'm driving, showing up at the middle school three mornings a week to help Nick, apparently working a funeral circuit and yes I'm still going to the doctor all the time for the computer that fell on my head. Lets not forget dance classes, the voice lessons, the library activities, the youth group and on and on and on.
I have anxiety. You know the people who freak out in movies and start gasping? Yes, I do that... then I start doing yoga. The cat cow routine is the only thing that helps me breathe. I should do it at work when my all time worst boss, Thomas starts being an idiot. Can't you picture me trying to have a rational conversation and then just throwing in the towel and dropping to my hands and knees doing deep breathing while arching my back and spreading my chest? Solid plan. I'm adding it to my list.
Anyway, I love my life. I am not complaining. I'm just making sure I remember this nonsense whenever I want to complain about anything at any time ever in the future. Just like I remember when my kids were all little and I was making pots of hot tea and arranging painting supplies and catching them cut their shirts with scissors and grinding my teeth because they spread dog food and cereal and kleenexes and lipstick and paper mâché paste and chocolate syrup and maple syrup and orange juice and crumbs, we are talking enough crumbs to feed a herd of cattle... all over the house. I remember Jody going grocery shopping with me and making all of the money for me to go shopping. I remember nursing babies in every conceivable location on earth with milk spraying the world like a spigot. I remember being awake all night when they were sick and sleeping in all morning with them in my bed when they weren't. I'm so thankful for the life I've already lived. I could call it quits today and say it completely fulfilled me. And yet here I am peeking through the curtains to the next act and I'm like "cool, that will be fun." This little middle spot of transition is definitely crazy but I'm ok with crazy.

This I Believe Essay

Hey Friends, here's my essay! Hope you like it and feel empowered to parent your own way! God gave you special unique kids and they need you to tune in and do it however God tells you to.

She rode in silence turned away with her forehead resting on the window so I wouldn’t see her tears. We were ten minutes late for school again and I felt the same old internal battle between rage and despair. “I’m not made for this” my heart cried. Somehow life had hurdled me past important milestones at speeds not conducive to careful contemplation. Now here I was, parenting a middle schooler who was trying to survive a crisis I knew nothing of. With failing grades, no friends, concerned teachers, and several suicide threats behind us already, I knew our life was at a desperate pivotal moment yet again and frankly I was so tired it made me angry. On top of that was the overwhelming guilt. Guilt that I must have done this and guilt that I was a living breathing hypocrite. My mind flashed to my own middle school years of blissful freedom. Home-schooled and riding Penny bareback through acres of hayfields at a hard gallop with the wind ripping tears from my eyes while my legs trembled with the effort of clinging to an animal pushed to it's limits. The click of the car door handle brought me back to the present and I stared numbly as she mumbled a few words without glancing my way and slammed the door. I made myself watch her shining golden hair falling over a slumped defeated back as she walked toward her school, the very school that made my own stomach quiver with fear. 

Explaining how we got to that point four years ago, would be like peeling off layer after layer of paint and every layer would hurt. I will say that I was in fresh grief from losing my dad and coping by hard assing my way through parenting four kids just like “everyone” had told me to. I was depending on a set of rules because my unconventional childhood had given me little to go on… or so I thought. I was grounding, bedtiming, giving consequences, raising my eyebrows to my hairline, impatiently honking horns, refusing to drop off forgotten items at the school and gritting my teeth the whole time. Then, that day, staring at the closing door of the middle school, it all came to a screeching halt. My firstborn, Eden desperately needed me to pull it together. Familiar tears coursed down my cheeks and I wordlessly asked God what to do. I was suddenly 12 years old again myself, staring into my dad’s beautiful gray green eyes; burning with intensity and for the millionth time, in the exact same tone and meter he said to me “Boogle, I love you very much.” I felt the familiar warmth of being completely loved and accepted wash over me. I leaned back into the car seat and closed my eyes. My mis-step hadn’t been in “not pushing hard enough,” but in missing the boat entirely. As moments of my childhood like my my mom making biscuits while my dad delivered a hot cup of tea to my bed came back to me, my own parenting plan began to cement in my mind. I decided to love that baby so hard she didn’t know what hit her. I decided to wake her mopey head up with a cup of tea and a smile.  I decided to be the mom who these kids knew would be there for them no matter what and show them that they mattered enough to rattle some cages at that regimented school. I was done trying to please school secretaries. I was suddenly empowered to walk in there like a freaking Wonder Woman with a forgotten iPad or thermos of tea or lunch or notebook or whatever MY PEOPLE needed if I felt like it. I felt a steel resolve and we became the A-Team. And that was how God saved her. 

I can’t really think of anyone who approves and I won’t lie and say I care. As far as I can tell, they aren’t doing a whole lot better at this brutal parenting gig than I am anyway. I’ve always been a boat rocker but now I’m one step further, I have arrived at that blissful stage of parenting when I own who I am and I rock my philosophy with pride. I’d rather raise a kid who can’t find their keys than a kid who doesn’t know how to love well. So that’s why I show them that love has many forms. Sometimes love thinks of you at the grocery store and brings home someones favorite salsa or dairy free ice cream. Sometimes love cancels your phone service for making a terrible choice. One thing is true, love always always rescues you when you need it most. Although my days are very busy, if I can help, I will help, not because I need to be needed but because they need to be reminded that they have backup and their imperfection is perfectly lovable. I’ll be there for my kids just like my husband is there for me when I let my car run out of gas. Just like I’m there for my husband when he calls from work to ask if I can bring him his wallet. I now breezily call myself “the rescue mom” with pride which leaves my children in a mixed state of embarrassment and total security. This I believe, Loving like my father, both heavenly and earthly is all I have to get right with parenting. 

Here's the paragraph I edited out for the sake of brevity. 

The other day I was busily rattling off an email to a middle school teacher when my second daughter Kait interrupted my train of thought. 

She noisily cleared her throat and bugged her eyes and said “Are you sending my teacher an email about what I just said?!” 

I cocked a brow and said “of course, just call me Bev.” 

I saw a smirk hover on her lips which was all I needed. My girl knows she’s got a smother. 

So I finished dashing off that email to Ms. Baldivia (with a chuckle I have to admit) letting her know that she’s punishing herself more than Kait by demanding a hand written essay when Kait struggles with what I have expertly google diagnosed as dysgraphia. I hit send with a self assurance that I wish I could give every mother in the world. I’ve always admired Kait’s grit. She would have totally muddled along painstakingly hand writing things for Ms. Baldivia. As a matter of fact, she had already churned out 2 1/2 pages to the dismay of her classmates who could barely summon one, but seriously, my letter was a mercy to them both. I believe this connected level of parenting will impact who my children become and how they treat others in the world. Kait knows I’m in her corner and I’ll listen when she vents and I’ll speak up for her when I should. And in turn, Kait will be a better listener and a stronger voice herself.  And that is why I believe the world needs rescuers like the A-team. 

Beginning again

If the whole world worried about being a narcissist because they like to write about their life then we'd have no stories to read.
Hello old three friends who used to read my blog, I'm back. Possibly temporarily. Possibly sporadically. Possibly permanently.  I had to take a hiatus because I lost my self confidence for awhile. You missed some really good stories because someone belittled my writing and I acted like a third grader about it. I'm finally over it. Sorry.
I'm 39 years old if anyone is still counting and Tuesday I'll start a two year interior design program at the community college. That looks just as underwhelming as I thought it would. But in my world it's huge. It's the kind of thing I've watched people do my whole life that I just couldn't bring myself to do. My early adulthood is dotted with almosts. I returned to high school for the express purpose of getting a real diploma and taking the ACT and getting into a college. I skipped my appointment to take the ACT and then dropped out of high school. I then took the GED and scored very well. The state of Arkansas had a special grant for people to go to college if they scored that well. Instead, I hopped on a bus and moved to Colorado. Now I was a new resident with no instate tuition options. I worked for two years in Colorado and then visited the community college and took a placement test. I never went back and registered. I honestly can't put my finger on what always stopped me but I told people it was because I didn't know what I wanted to do. And now I do know what I want to do. And I bounce in to work every day and fly through my terrible, monotonous, exhausting job because they're going to pay for my education. It makes me so happy I could burst.
I actually can't even bring myself to share most of what I traversed to come to this point. We all know I tend to spill my guts about everything but 2018 was more, it ripped me to shreds from the inside out. Fortunately, my whole family is still alive and intact. God is really good to us. I'm no athlete but getting to the point that I registered for classes was like doing hurdles for a year. Really big hurdles with short legs. Lots of mishaps and humanity on display.  Ultimately, my take away from all of that was that God needed to toughen me up. And I feel tougher. Physically, I've pushed through excruciating pain and held down a very physical job without taking time off. Mentally, I've overcome making decisions or becoming immobilized from making decisions based on other peoples opinions. Spiritually I've come to a place of talking to Jesus a lot more regularly than I used to. Emotionally, I've learned to shut off the drama and let it go. I'm sure it's just the same thing most women go through as they get close to 40 but for me it's time. It's just totally time.
So here we go. Hopefully I come back through this year to share tidbits of how this experiment plays out. How will I do working at 3 am, going to school, parenting four kids including two teenagers and being a wife and home maker? Some things will definitely fall through the cracks like cleaning and cooking but I truly hope I can juggle these commitments and still keep my people number one.