I can almost hear the Father....

All of the family has pitched in. Miles have been driven across state lines. Mom has fed us countless meals. The Bs are now certified painters, spacklers, wall-paper strippers...you name it. Church family have given up their days off.....and we're almost there. The house is almost finished. Any day, Dad is going to declare it complete, and is going to give me the call.........

Telling me my home is ready. The work is done, and we can come home. And it will be time to leave this house behind, and go. I have everything I need when I get that call. See, he put automatic gates around the house. No one gets in without the keys. I have the keys to the house. When my Father calls, I'm ready......

But that's not the call I'm waiting for.....I'm waiting for one that will start with the sounding of a trumpet. "In my Father's house there are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also maybe where I am. You know the way to place where I am going." That's the call I'm REALLY waiting for. All this other, is temporary. It will be gone in the blink of an eye. Yes, to answer so many of your questions from the past few weeks....I'm excited. I'm looking forward to the new (old)house.....but my Joy....is in my eternal home. That is my focus each day. It's His voice my ears are listening for.

17 minutes... there and back.....

Something just seemed off this morning. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I really didn't have time to try to figure it out. I overslept, after crashing the minute my head hit the pillow last night. I don't even know if it found the pillow. Just made it to the general vicinity. We dashed around, getting ready. I needed to be "dressed", as I have a funeral visitation tonight. My hair seemed weird, but that's nothing new. I did what I could. My face seemed weird. I figured my extremely busy week must really be getting to me. I "painted the barn door" the best I could, still wondering why it seemed so off even after I had slept so hard last night....
We hurried to work, because I had an appointment with a sales rep. And more merchandise arrived. And customers. And algebra questions. And ringing phones. And then a stack of papers fell off my desk. And then....it hit me...the reason I felt so weird....I worked all day yesterday, moving merchandise, unpacking nasty boxes, went to WalMart, did laundry, messed with dogs, vaccuumed, spent an hour disassembling/reassembling the vaccuum, got still, fell asleep, overslept....do you see where we're headed.....7th grade health class.....personal hygiene....
I now know that it takes me 17 minutes from the time I leave my store until the time I return to go home, shower, and return. I could shave 3 minutes off this time if I would have remembered to have the Bs undo my back zipper, or have dogs smart enough to be of some help. I may or may not have had a mini seizure from one end of the house to the other. I am now fully ready for the day. And smell like springtime. Sunny, happy springtime. Not yard-cutting, sewer-cleaning nasty springtime.

simply sam: Valentine's Day and the (Not So) Swinging Single.....

simply sam: Valentine's Day and the (Not So) Swinging Single.....: Oh yeah, I'm going there....... What is it about a diaper wearing, arrow-bearing fat kid that makes other-wise fairly intelligent "paired-...

Valentine's Day and the (Not So) Swinging Single...

Oh yeah, I'm going there.......
What is it about a diaper wearing, arrow-bearing fat kid that makes other-wise fairly intelligent "paired-up" adults loose all sensibilities?? I know that most actions have the very best of intentions, but let's all regroup for a moment, and remember what it was like to be single, and let me (ahem) gently remind you what the single gal (and maybe guy) would like you to remember on Valentine's Day. And probably every other day of the year.....
1. I did not cease to exist the day I became single. You can still have a conversation with me. I still follow world events, think about the state of our economy, have a favorite tv show. If you start your conversation with "When we were..." I can still roll with it.
2. I may choose to stay at home on Feb 14th. This does not mean I have ceased all basic forms of hygiene and have actually placed the online order for the Crazy Lady Starter Litter of Cats. Don't feel guilty if you have plans. I'm even okay with hearing about your plans. Really.
3. Here's a real kicker, for any day of the year....if I offer to watch your kids, so you and your spouse can go out, I mean it. I really want you to have a happy, healthy marriage. I wouldn't offer if it wasn't sincere. I've had 3 itty bitties. I know what's involved. So unless you think I may wreck them, it's okay to take me up on it.
4. Spending extra time on my hair and appearing "dressed up" means nothing more than everything worked that morning. That's all. Other mornings, maybe I overslept, or the bathtub drain had to be unclogged, or one of the Bs needed to talk, or a dog threw up....that's all.....please don't assume it means there's "someone special"....that gets old....
5. When you offer your matchmaking services, and I politely decline, thank you for respecting my wishes. When you go behind my back, and blindside me.....you deserve the firestorm that occurs in front of God and everyone. And you betray a trust that is hard to rebuild.
6. Guys, thanks for occasionally sharing your wife with me. The girl time is much appreciated. I promise I'm not taking her out to bars or trying to talk her into joining the First Wives Club or any other such scandalous behavior. She's just telling me where she bought her shoes and how she got the pictures to upload so fast on facebook and besides, it's saving you an in-depth conversation about Downtown Abby.
7. Ladies, I am very careful about where and when I talk with your husband. But when I do, I absolutely promise I'm not trying to take him from you. I don't want him. He's yours. But it's not my words that should matter on this...he's your husband. Trust him on this. Trust your marriage.
8. If you see a "single" at the movies(or a restaurant) it doesn't have to be an awkward situation. For some reason, it trips a lot of people up. Let me help you out: the "single" went to the movies knowingly. (ie: knowing there would be "couples" there.) Your "social" obligation is to say "hey", maybe "how are you?" "heard much about the movie?" that sort of thing. Then, find your seat, and watch the show you paid to see. Don't get all weird, and start asking about their great aunt, if they've filed their taxes yet, or even worse...avoid eye contact all together. Just be normal.
9. The day I ask you about your... shall we say....personal, private matters, is the day you can ask me about mine. Single does not equal Open Book. End of conversation.
10. There is only One who I now trust with my heart. It will be up to Him whether or not it's ever given to another. In the meantime, I'm trying to teach the Bs to leave their hearts with their Heavenly Father from the very beginning. Until He says its okay to give it away. They have seen me cry over my wrong choices, and we laugh at life's ironies. We laugh alot at our house...and friends, I'd rather laugh as a Single within His will than be broken as a Couple outside His will.

This is my story....this is my song.....

It was never my desire to provide conversation for so many people. I just wanted to go about my happy way, living my family's interpretation of the  "American Dream"....life had other plans. In the beginning, people came to me out of ...dare I say....nosiness. They wanted the details. The dirt. On why the marriage had failed. Over time, many years, their questions have changed. And as I answer the questions, my heart centers on one verse that I know I can absolutely personally claim to be true...."You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20. I know,  I have always known, that Satan sought to destroy my family. And, in a sense, he succeeded. One home, is now two. And it hurt. At times, it still hurts. But even though the "family" lost the fight, God is winning the war. This week, I have had no fewer than 15 people ask me about the aftermath of our divorce. Wanting encouragement, wanting to know how we have remained committed as parents, even though we were no longer spouses. They want to know how the girls are thriving. How the family has experienced restoration, without reconciliation. Wanting to know more about God's mercy. His goodness...I only have one answer...."You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20.

And so, as I proclaim "This is my story, this is my song" I can't help but wonder....does Satan ever regret waging war on our household? Because even though the battle has been bloody at times, the victory is certain. God is touching lives. I am humbled by my part. I am grateful for a testimony that has much more depth than it had a decade ago....for a faith that I know, without a doubt, is placed in a holy, living God...and for that, every battle has been worth fighting.

Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the.....

1. My itty bitty is sick. Nothing serious, just a cold. But she's miserable. And I can't fix it.
2. My first born had a migraine a couple of nights ago. It broke my heart. I wouldn't wish a migraine on my worst enemy, much less my child. I'm sorry this is in our genetic pool, B. But you handled it with grace.
3. My blond child has a sore on her toe...I didn't want to leave her out of the list.....
4. A chicken on the Tyson truck in front of us spewed out some bodily fluids this morning. I would prefer a bug on my windshield.
5. The high today in Bar Harbor, Maine is 81........sigh........our high is 102......
6. I stayed up last night just to watch Bravo's Million Dollar Decorators. Its disgraceful how much that show entertains me.
7. I spent Sunday afternoon with a friend I grew up with. She makes my heart happy. Never, in all the years that we have known each other, have I ever had to explain one of my jokes to her. She makes me laugh until liquids come out of my nose. She's so awesome.
8. I've been trying to work on an essay about Love....its harder than I thought....because mental Memory Lane is still under construction. Some detours have not been cleaned up, and put to order. They still look like a War Zone. And sometimes I get side tracked.
9. I know I've loved. But I wonder if I've ever been loved. Unconditionally. By someone who bore no blood ties to me. And who wasn't a Froot Loop. Or my Heavenly Father.
10. and see....here I've sat....it's a topic that always perplexes me to the point of losing all perspective on time....and so....Evidently I've lost the creative flow. That's what happens in a War Zone. I can't even figure out if I am in fact the windshield, being splat with the world's stuff....or if I'm the bug, doing my best to dodge all those big sheets of glass hurling themselves at me.....

And my heart says..... "Ahhhh"......

I have been able to sew this week. Really sew. Not a make-it-tonight, wear-it-tomorrow quickie. Not something for my girls, or the house, or my precious customers....something for ME. That required tons of tailoring, trimming, and topstitching. Its been several years since I took on this type of project. I loved every minute of it. And throughout the process, I of course thought about all the women who have given my heart the ability to........."ahhhhh".....

Mom, yes. I cut straight, sat up straight at the machine, and absolutely...You can look at the inside of my pencil skirt when you get home. Provided I'm not wearing it. Mrs. Overbey...I loved and patted that fabric every minute I was handling it. I loved it so carefully, there are not even enough scraps for a quilt square. Mrs. Bourgois, I pulled and tied my tails. In a perfect square knot. I trimmed, and notched, and understitched every blessed square inch. And while I was doing the hand stitching, I remembered how in class you would at times take our hand stitching away from us. Just so you could do a few stitches. You loved it that much. Ms. Rablais, I agree. The pink damask is more suited to an upholstery project than clothing. But upon my fiber testing, I determined that it was made of all natural components (cotton, to be exact) and I properly treated it before I began. I felt that the juxtaposition of the damask to a pencil skirt would be the only way Mrs. Marquette would climb on board...I just never was quite modern enough for her taste. Upon completion, I have determined that my rear very closely resembles a couch cushion, so in the end...you should both be happy. Dr. Belleau, Ma'am, it is with great reverence and trepidation that I humbly submit my project for your approval...all while never making eye contact and backing slowly from the room. My eyes were appropriately dropped to the floor, Ma'am, except for the brief moment that they glanced up to see if your nostril would flare, or if your eyebrow would flicker. Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am. Cym...I miss you. I miss your shop. I miss you inspecting every seam while I sat with baited breath. I even miss you telling me to rip it out 37 times and try again, if only for the satisfaction I felt when the 38th time was acceptable. I miss you telling me it was time for a coffee break....which meant I was to hop up, and fix the coffee....I miss your regalness, your confidence, your impeccableness (is that even a word? It should be. She was always impeccable.) I miss the bolts of Italian cashmere that sewed....like butter...the silk charmuse that could be ruined by a hang-nail. The linen, that made everything in the world seem right. Egyptian cottons, that made shirts so crisp...the women would stand and look at themselves in the fitting mirror for endless amounts of time. Or maybe that was just because they were the most self-involved blue bloods under the sun. I even miss them. And the look that would pass between us when they were prattling on and on about the upcoming Cotillions (nothing more than a fancy dance with lots of liquor). I've missed my Bs this week, but I have thoroughly enjoyed revisiting, in my mind, the ladies that gave me the skills (after I gave them LOTS of money) that have allowed my heart to say........ahhhhh.......