Happy Birthday!

Life is a Journey is officially one year old!!

Happy birthday to you,

happy birthday to you,

happy birthday Life is a Journey 

happy birthday to you!!

Looking back, I'm amazed at all that's happened in just three-hundred-sixty-five days...

  



The titles of these thirty-six blogs are like mile markers

on my journey of the last three-hundred-sixty-five days. 

It's not been easy (what hasn't killed me has made me stronger, right!?), but it's been so rewarding in so many ways.   I've been reminded that yes, I AM strong enough (though I love a companion to offer support through the battles), I really CAN do it (and more!) if I set my mind to it, and most importantly, that even when I doubt the old saying that God doesn't give us more than we can handle, He never leaves my side.

 

The most important relationships in my life have ebbed and flowed this past year; come and gone, changed for the better and for the worse.  This reminds me of a saying I became familiar with when my heart was broken for the first time so many years ago: 

 


This isn't always easy to accept, but the truth - at times - is anything but easy.  Nothing in life stays the same, except that we do not have to walk through it alone.

 

My relationship with God, the only true Unconditional Lover, has grown in the past year in ways that both excite and yet mystify me.  I've never been closer to Him and felt Him so intently at work in my life.  What a blessing it is!

I hope that at least once my ramblings have:

• made you giggle
• caused you to ponder and maybe even cry
• created the fuel to help you make a change

Life is too short.  Live it! 

Happy Birthday Life is a Journey !

  

 

The Lily

"Mommy, is Great Grandma Bev sleeping?" asked Addyson, my four-year-old ever inquisitive child who never seems to quench her thirst for facts. 

"No honey, Great Grandma Bev is in heaven!" I quickly and confidently responded.  Whew!  That was an easy one...

If she has one question, you can be assured you should hold on and wait...the second and third follow-up questions will be following quickly behind.  Then, like rapid fire, she'll pummel you with questions until you feel like you can hardly breathe!

Yes, this is my inquisitive little girl.

So, I prepared myself for all the questions she would have about Great Grandma Bev's funeral.  I was armed and ready.

Addyson and Great Grandma Bev at Thanksgiving

"Is she really in heaven?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course she's in heaven, honey."

There Addyson stood, peering into the rose colored casket.  I could see the wheels turning and braced for the next question.  Please, God, give me the wisdom to think quick on my feet and put her little heart at ease!  "But," she said, "...her head...her head is still HERE!"  

I pondered for what felt like an eternity, watching her look so longingly over the edge of the casket at her Great Grandma Bev.  Take a deep breath, Momma, you can do this.  "Yes honey, her head is still here.  Because her head is part of her earth body.  Great Grandma Bev isn't in her earth body anymore.  She's in her heaven body."

My mother-in-law introduced us to these terms, and they seemed incredibly appropriate and easy to understand.  I hoped using these terms would help Addyson prepare to say good-bye to Great Grandma Bev, but still she stood, waiting...trying to understand.

Isn't that what we're all wanting?  To understand?  To be given some proof to put our minds at ease?  Proof that we're on the right track.  Proof that we're doing the right thing.  Proof that He knows all and that everything will be okay.

After the service, Addyson asked, "Where is Great Grandma Bev now?  Is she still at church?"

"No," I said.  "Her earth body is in the cemetery."

I hung on as she fired away:  "Is she under the grass?  Will her eyes be open?  Are there WORMS in there???"

I thought long and hard about her questions while we had lunch in the basement of the church.  When we were finished and ready to leave, I asked, "Would you like to see where Great Grandma Bev's earth body is?"  She eagerly nodded.  "Come with me."  

I took her little hand in mine to walk her out to the cemetery, which sits adjacent to the church.  I thought letting her see Grandma's rose colored casket waiting to be laid into the earth would complete the story for my inquisitive little girl. 

  



I was expecting to see her casket, waiting to be laid into the earth.   Or, maybe even a mound of fresh earth covered in flowers, marking where her body lay. 

 I was prepared to again explain how Great Grandma Bev didn't need her earth body anymore...that her heaven body was perfect and wonderful and that she was happy. 

The earth...the flowers...the casket...I was prepared to talk about these with my inquisitive little girl.  But, what I was expecting to see...was not what was waiting for us.  

Instead, there was the one thing I was NOT prepared for:

  I was not ready to see this hard, cold, piece of machinery dropping the heavy earth on top of her rose colored casket..  The fresh scent of dirt permeated my nose and without warning, a small, sad sound came from deep inside of me.  "What, Mom?" Addyson asked, still holding my hand and pulling me toward the freshly dug grave.

  

Breathe, Jill.  You can do this.

I could not shield her from reality.  I could not protect my little girl.  I could not make it any prettier than it was.  This was life.  Or, should I say, the end of life.  It's usually not all that pretty.  Following her cue, I remained calm.  "Nothing, honey.  Here is where Great Grandma Bev's earth body is, Addyson."

"Right," she said confidently.  "But, she's in her heaven body.  She's up there...with God."  She looked up at the blue sky as if it all made sense to her.  The wind was cold, but Addyson's confidence soothed my aching heart.

"That's right, honey."  I helped her pick a tiger lily from the spray that laid on the grass, waiting to blanket the fresh earth that would cover our Great Grandma Bev.  

We walked away, hand in hand, me wiping tears away and Addyson holding her lily.  She had no more questions for me. 

We didn't need any more words.

Back at home, Addyson gently put the lily in water and sat it on top of her bedroom dresser.  That lily is our proof.  Proof that we're okay.  Proof that I provided enough information.  Proof that Addyson understands a little better now than she did before.  Proof that He's taking care of everything. 

It's scent fills the second floor of our two-story home. 

Each time I climb the stairs, I smell that lily and I feel like I'm a little closer to Great Grandma Bev.  I also feel just a little bit closer to my inquisitive little girl.  And for that, I will always be thankful.  

The Confessional

Well friends, I have good news and bad news. 

Disclaimer:  I grew up in the Catholic church, so I've got experience with these confessionals, if ya know what I mean!

I have to confess (yep, brace yourselves, this is the bad news)...

I've been hiding.

When I began this blog, I wasn't sure where I was going, or what I was getting into.  For this reason, I [personally] shared the blog with very few people.  As time went on, my journey continued, and boy did it get messy quick. 

Because my journey got messy, the emotions in my blogs were messy at times. 

Raw. 

Honest. 

Sincere. 

Each time I wanted to post here, I began to stop and think twice.  Will these words - heartfelt and honest, be hurtful? And the answer was yes, quite possibly so.  My messy journey, with all its unexpected twists and turns, and my ramblings here about them all could definitely hurt those I loved the most - unintentionally, of course.  But, unintentional hurt still hurts.  So...I stopped blogging.

Well, let me define S-T-O-P-P-E-D.

S-T-O-P-P-E-D = My fingers were not hitting the keys to get my ramblings down, but those ramblings were still clanking around inside me, keeping me up at night!  Night after night after night.  I had to get some sleep!!  But what could I do?!?!  Well my friends, can you say "BAWK BAWK!?"  Yep, this here chicken crossed the road and  "hid" on another blog site that I shared with even less people.  I picked up there where I left off here, and blogged away.  Whew!  I felt so much better!!  But boy was I was a chicken!!  Let me hear ya:  BAWK BAWK!  I was indeed sleeping better at night, well, that is until it all came full circle.  (Isn't funny how God doesn't let us stay comfortable for long?!)

I woke up one morning feeling guilty.  (BAWK, BAWK!) I had crossed the road, leaving you all behind so that I didn't have to fear the opinions of others.  I wasn't being fair to myself or to those of you who take the time to read my clatter.     

So, I did what any good chicken should:  I clucked (BAWK BAWK!) my way right back here!  (I was hoping you'd agree, we've hit the good news part.) 

And, here's why I'm back:

Proverbs 29:25
“The fear of human opinion disables; trusting in God protects you from that.”

I was letting my fear of hurting others feelings disable me.  My intentions are good.  My emotions are human.  My love is fierce.  God knows this.  He will protect me, love me, comfort me.  He will do the same for you, too!

I

am

a

good

person.

My journey is bound to encounter more messiness around the bend.  I'm in if you're in! 

I Asked For It...

We've got a lot of whining going on in our house these days.  It comes and goes, but mostly, it comes, and comes and some days it comes in DOWNPOURS!

So, I'm focused on teaching the kids to use their words.  To listen to each other.  To be good communicators and even better listeners.

When I hear an argument start to happen, recognize that raised little tone of voice that will very shortly turn into a whine, and then a cry, and then an all out fit, I softly remind the accuser, "Please...no crying...use your words."  

When I'm lucky, I might hear one of them say what's been done that they don't like.  Sometimes I even hear one of them ask for a turn with a toy the other has - this makes me really excited!!  It doesn't happen that often, but enough to keep my spirits up anyway.

Then I got this:

During our weekly visit to Wal-Mart (why does it seem like so many milestones happen at that store?!?!  I need to get out more!!), Willow was playing the drop-the-snack-cup, watch-mom-have-to-stop-and-pick-it-up game.  The first time I picked it up, I didn't think much about it.  The second time I let out a big sigh before stopping the two carts, backing back up, and leaning over to pick up said snack cup.  I handed it back to her, my body language letting her know that this would be the last time I'd be picking it up.  Off we all went again.

I assumed I'd soon hear some sniffling...followed by whining...leading up to crying...all to let me know that she wasn't happy with me not taking part in her drop-the-snack-cup, watch-mom-have-to-stop-and-pick-it-up game.  I was braced and ready.  As suspected, the sniffles started.  I quickly checked my list to see if I could pick up the few last things I needed quick enough to get to the checkout before the whining and subsequent crying tantrum came.

Sniffle..............sniffle......SNIFFLE!!

Oh geeze...here comes the tantrum, I thought (wouldn't be the first of our tantrums in Wal-Mart, by the way...)

I stopped the carts (I've explained before that I push one and pull one, right?), and walked around the cart so that Willow and I could talk.  She had the saddest little face to go with those sniffles!  I wrapped my hands around her shoulders and asked, "ooooohhh Willow, what's wrong??"   She sweetly and softly said,  "Mommy, you made me so saaa-aaa-aad."

My heart was warmed.  =)

"But, why?"  I asked her.  "What did mommy do that made you sad?"

She just looked at the snack cup she help between her two hands and sniffled.  "Cuuuuuuuz...." was all she could manage to get out.  But it was enough to make me stop and think.

I realized that they don't just need to be reminded to use their words, sometimes they just don't have the words they need to let us know how they feel.  I hugged her and asked her if she felt better.  She smiled sweetly and said yes.  Sniffles disappeared.  We wiped tears away.  It was that easy.

I had gotten frustrated and she sensed it.  Instead of throwing a fit, she let me know that I made her sad.  (YAY!!  Is my focused teaching working?!)  I listened and hugged her, letting her know that it's okay to not have all the words....

         ...sometimes just knowing there's lots of love
                is all we need to make everything better.

A Poem

The Most Important One

"Why did you choose adoption?"

"We didn't.

Adoption chose us."

Navigating through this whirlwind

Wasn't always easy...for any of us.

We're doing the best we can.

The most important thing...

The Most Important One...

Is happy.

So I know we're doing alright.

Please forgive us

If it seems we are at times

Inattentive to your needs;

But this isn't about you.

This is about the Most Important One

whose life is now a part of ours. 

We may need to hunker down

To take care of us.

You see, we've grown without much warning.

We need to ensure the growing pains

do not take a toll

on the foundation

that gives the Most Important One

and each of us

security

and

love.

This precious little girl,

the Most Important One,

is now part of our family.

We will be making decisions

you may not always agree with.

Please remember these decisions

are not about you.

They reflect the needs of our new, larger family.

How you choose to react

to our decisions is in your control.

You were our first family.

We will always love you.

We hope you choose

to journey with us...

But if someday you feel you cannot,

or if you simply choose not to...

if it is just too hard

or too complicated

for you to understand...

that's okay.

We understand.

We were there once too

not so long ago.

                                                                          - JustPlainJill                          

                                                                Written in July, 2012



Tiny Fingers; Terrible Twos; Enormous Potential

I'm not going to lie to you...

The the terrible twos are challenging enough.  In fact, before we adopted Willow, the thought of that  challenge being multiplied by two (YIKES!) scared the you-know-what outta me!!   Buck up I told myself.  How much harder could it be??

The good news:  My two-year-olds are not travelling through the terrible part of the twos at the same time.  HOORAY!!
The bad news:  Some days, you only need one child's irrational behavior to push you to your limits.



The good news:  Willow, our first "traveller" into the terrible part of the twos, seems to have tip-toed out of the terrible part of two and has hit a little more logical, reasonable season in her twos (whew!!).

The bad news:  Immediately afterwards, Noah's head spun around exorcist style and he entered that irrational, unpredictable stage of two-ness that Willow had just exited.  SERIOUSLY?!?!  

The good news:  Willow, reaching some sort of "logic" in her two-ness (is there really such a thing?!), can see when Noah is being completely irrational and now offers anecdotes. 

Like yesterday for example...Willow picked up one of the 20 hotwheels Noah had methodically spread out all over the living room floor.  Noah proceeded to freak out.  Willow calmly looked at Noah, then at me, and said, "Mommy, Noah needs to go to his room." 

Spending so much time in the Land of the Twos, makes me really want to CONQUER it (that's just the way I am!), although I know there's no way to do that.  So I'm striving to get through our second round of terrible and come out a better person for it.

In order to do that, I decided to make a plan...a roadmap.  I want to track progress and measure successes!

Step one:  Establish Family Rules.  The first step is usually the hardest, but this was pretty easy and I'm really excited about it!  We will focus on these three rules with all the kids.  When they have mastered one, we will set it aside and add a new one. 

Step two:  Stop and smell the roses!  I was reminded of this step when I put Addyson to bed the other night.  She held her hand up in the air (telling me a story, I'm sure...though I don't remember now), and everything but her little fingers blurred a bit.  Look at those tiny little fingers!  How long has it been since I relished them...I mean, really RELISHED in the potential of them??  Far, far too long...

Those tiny little fingers reminded me of how when she was the only babe in the house, long, long before Willow and Noah, back when I just basked in the glory of her.  I mean seriously...I still remember the amazement and overwhelming "WOW" I'd feel, just by looking at her.

Now, hanging out in The Land of The Twos, I realize that it's easy to let the glorious potential in her go overlooked.   A poopy diaper here (will they EVER decide to use the toilet?!?!), a temper tantrum there...how can I so easily be distracted?

I put my newly created list aside to focus and listen.

The good news:  I didn't beat myself up for long about this. 

And...I realized the potential I was reminded of in her lies within me too.  Heck, it lies within you!  How long has it been since you've stopped and really drank in YOUR OWN potential??

Thank you, God, for dancing those tiny little fingers of potential across my field of vision and reminding me that all that I need is Right Here.

Here's How I Rang in the New Year...

Stitches. 

You know what I'm talking about, right?  Lots of blood, an ER visit, tons of anxiety (well, for me anyway...).  Yep, the whole shebang, right smack dab in the middle of my forehead.  

Now, it's ironic to me that I've only had stitches three times in my entire life.  ALL THREE TIMES the docs were stitching up my FACE.  Really??  I mean, seriously, what are the chances of that??  The first time was about twelve years ago.  I passed out during a visit to the doc (did I mention the word ANXIETY yet??).  I probably could have sued the pants off the guy, but I was young(er) and naive, and was DEVASTATED and embarrassed to have a gaping hole in the skin covering my face!  I mean to have to share your injury with the entire world AND have to come to grips with not looking quite so pretty (ha!) for awhile is pretty rough for a woman...well, for this woman anyway.  But, I sucked it up and moved on.  That whole "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" thing...     Yah.  Right.

The second time was even worse.  I was playing third base when a line drive ball took a bad hop.  Yep.  Smacked me right above the right eye.  Besides the layers of stitches, the bruising was horrendous.  Let me tell ya, THAT one did a job on my self-confidence for awhile!  But, after not leaving the house for several days, I finally came to terms with my new "tougher" look and faced the world.  I'll never forget a guy at work telling me he thought scars were sexy.  Needless to say, I steered clear from that guy after that. 

So anyway, you'd think I'd be a pro by now with getting my face stitched up.  And I guess in some sense, that is true.  Don't get me wrong...since I'm a HUGE weeny when it comes to needles, the anxiety of the procedure itself was still there.  But some of the other aspects changed since that first ER visit twelve years ago.  This time around, I was fairly calm and systematic:

We are doing some very minor renovations to the house.  Do the words "D-I-Y DISASTER" mean anything to you?  If so, then you get my drift...   Anyway, we're taking out a half wall between the kitchen and family room.  I'm not sure what the glory of these short little walls were in their day.  I mean seriously...if you want to make the layout of a house look more open, why put up a wall at all, right?  But, instead, they built these little half wall things...with spindles connecting them to the ceiling.  YUCK!!  So, taking out that ugly little useless wall has been on my to-do list for quite awhile.  Imagine my surprise when my husband walked through the door from work one day, handed me a hammer, and asked if I wanted to make the first hole in the wall.  Yippee!!!  In trying to get the ledge of that ugly little wall to "let go," there was enough vibration from the saw to send a three foot metal picture falling from where it hung above the doorway under which I stood.  Smacked me right between the eyes!!  I kid you not - the impact from this metal picture felt like the entire beam above me had come crashing down.  I literally could not move.  I was hunched over, looking at the floor, wondering what in the hell had just happened.  Drop.  Drop, drop.  By the third BIG drop of blood on my white ceramic tile floor, I snapped out of it.  I heard my husband saying, "Oh my God!  Oh my God!"  (Guess no one ever told him that you should NEVER, EVER say that to someone as blood is dripping out of them!)  I'm not sure if I was trying to calm him or trying to convince myself at that point, but I started chanting OK, it's ok, I'm ok as I slowly steered the drips over to the kitchen sink.  I pulled my husband together (I mean seriously!  He was a wreck!!) by giving him calm and specific instructions on how to clean up all evidence of blood and guts before the kids saw anything.  With a towel pressed to my head, I sat in the recliner hoping and praying that it wasn't as bad as my very creative mind was making it out to be.  But, a visit to the ER confirmed that I was on my way to the third set of stitches in my face.

I used the car ride home from the hospital to quietly review what I had learned about wearing stitches on my face.  First of all, no, they are not sexy.  Maybe that guy at work meant to say that beauty is more than skin deep.  No, stitches did not kill me and yes, they have made me stronger.  My scars are reminders of where I've been, what I've done and who I'm becoming.  They are reminders that we are fragile beings, inside and out, and that although we try to take care of ourselves, there will always be times when we have to ask for help, and find the grace to accept help...even if it means stitches in the face.