People of Note

It is no secret that I hate people.

(snark)

Yeah, God's working with me on that one.

I just don't trust people. It's not in my nature. And I just think people, myself included, are annoying.

This fact often interferes with my Christian faith, and in an effort to help me work through my issues, God often places people, actual human beings, in my path. These very people, the ones I try so hard to stay away from, end up helping me mature.

And if there's anything God has taught me in my walk with Him, it is to be thankful for the people He placed in my life. With that said, I thought it apropos, now that I am moving, to give a heartfelt thank you and shout out to those people in Georgia who have somehow stayed with me through the years. I won't miss Georgia, but I will definitely miss them (“...and friends are friends forever...” blah blah blah).

Here they are, in no particular order:

Melody M.: One of the first people I met. You are a refreshing reminder that when life craps all over you, some people will still tell you the truth, even if it hurts, and that truth will bring healing...

Beth W.: I sat on a chair in the conference room at church and you told me if I wanted to grow, I was gonna have to let people in and trust them. I hated you for that; but you were right.

Butterflies: Thanks to Beth, you know my deepest, darkest secrets. Keep them, or I will hunt you down and cut off your wings.

Sherrill: My goodness, if it weren't for you, I couldn't have survived the last two years of pain and joy that came with the adoption and disruption.

Rita: You are my Aaron, and the most unlikely of friends.

Cherie: There are no words. Seriously. So I won't even try.

John Wood: You walked up on the platform that Sunday and scared me to death with your insight into my life. Freaked me out! But your words showed me that I had finally found a safe place that would define me by my God, not by my failures.

Becca: Everyone needs a sister they can laugh with uncontrollably. To think we might have never made it past that first meeting...snob.

Victoria S.: You are, quite honestly, the best doctor ever.

LeAnn N.: Few people are willing to confront my stubbornness. Your ability to do so in love helped me grow as a musician and a servant...and taught me to keep my mouth shut, which is no easy task.

Chad L.: You challenged me musically, requiring me to play beyond my abilities. I was sometimes too stupid to tell you I couldn't play a chart. Instead, I just practiced until I learned it. You made me a better musician.

Simple Woman: May 26, 2010

Outside my window...sunshine and a cool breeze. It's gonna be a beautiful day!

I am thinking...about how awesome it is going to be when my husband gets home. He is out-processing from his current position today, which basically means he is done with work at this Air Force Base!

I am thankful for...the movers. I spent much of my day complaining about them yesterday, so in an effort to atone for my bad attitude, I figured I'd say just how awesome they were. They really did a great job...no throwing of stuff, respectful, courteous (unless you count the pee on the seat. Seriously, will all you guys out there just sit down like the rest of us?), etc. We really don't have much stuff (about 5000lbs total and that includes all of Tim's professional gear as a musician), but even working hard it took them all day.

From the kitchen...pizza in the fridge and empty BBQ containers in the trash. Yep, it was one of those days.

I am wearing...a T-shirt and shorts. Just about everything else has been sent to Europe.

I am creating...memories. Saying good-bye sucks, but I have had an amazing time. Having battled a plethora of medical issues the last decade, I lost out on many of the joys of life, like amusement parks. Now that I am healthy and can be inverted without passing out, I decided it was high time for me to get back on the roller coaster. On Saturday, I called a friend and invited her to Wild Adventures. Within 20 minutes, another friend was on board, so we all played hookie from church and had one final hoorah. We ended the day on the same roller coaster we started...and I will always remember how awesome it was to share that experience with them.

I am going...crazy...still.

I am reading...He Loves Me by Wayne Jacobsen. Theologically, it is suspect in a few places, which I enjoy because it challenges me to search scripture and solidify what I believe. Literarily, it is lacking. Chapters which could be developed more just end; evidence is not given for Jacobsen's exegesis; and the language is elementary, but perhaps that is by design. It takes alot for me to quit reading a book. We'll see if I make it all the way through this one.

I am hoping...oh...you guessed it, that the house and car sell before we move.

I am hearing...the fan. We are one of the many people who can't sleep without fan noise or white noise.

Around the house...pretty much nothing except a few items we are storing at the in-laws.

One of my favorite things...moving and starting over. We have lived in this city longer than any other. I wasn't a military brat, but even still, I moved quite a bit before I was married, and we have lived in 3 cities and 5 different homes since then. Most people hate to move. I find it cathartic. People have a tendency to hold on to who you were when they first met you, in spite of the changes that occur over time. Moving allows not only an opportunity to be the new you in a new location, but also an opportunity to purge your stuff. The process is annoying at times, but it also promotes physical, mental, and emotional detox.

A few plans for the week...finishing the last few repairs on the house.

Here is a photo I am sharing of me and my friends after my first roller coaster ride in 7 years:

The Ultimate Hero WoD

One of the most inspiring aspects of CrossFit is the incorporation of what members call Hero WoDs (Workout of the Day), workouts that are named for military men and women, firemen, and policemen who have lost their lives in the line of duty. The Hero WoDs are always insanely difficult, but members "hit them hard" to honor the fallen.

Today, after a "normal" CrossFit workout, we sat around talking and our trainer mentioned The Ultimate Hero WoD, aptly named The Jesus WoD. CrossFit Central ran the workout, which was designed to mimic the 14 stations of the cross, at 3PM on Good Friday. Yeah, the magnitude is not lost on me, either.

The Jesus WoD (See the video here.)

14 Rounds

Men's weight 95#/ Women's weight 65#

10 Deadlifts
10 Squat Cleans
10 Push Press
50 Walking Lunges with the barbell on the shoulders

At no point are the hands to leave the bar until after rounds 3, 7, and 9, at which point the bar is placed on the ground and the individual completes 7 Turkish Get Ups.



Yeah, I will be completing this WoD next Good Friday.

Simple Woman: May 17, 2010

Outside my window...an interesting dichotomy of rain and sun. Even the birds are still chirping.

I am thinking about sex, but not in the manner you might think. In the last 2 weeks I have read about or seen: a prom photo of a senior who is 9 months pregnant; sex-ting during church; a video of 8-year-old girls wearing less than Beyonce and dancing to Single Ladies even more provocatively; a wedding after an unwed pregnancy; a friend teaching abstinence at a pregnancy center where the girls didn't even know you could get STDs from oral sex. I'm just about sick of the oversexualization in our culture.

I am thankful for just about everything. Except maybe mosquitoes, roaches and stupid people.

From the kitchen...a whole lotta nothing. I can barely get around the kitchen because of all the junk. The movers are coming this week to take the kitchen stuff, the linens, and most of our clothes so that they will get to Europe sooner than our furniture.

I am wearing...sadly, the EXACT same thing from last week's post. But I PROMISE I took it from the clean clothes pile.

I am creating...piles of stuff for the movers.

I am going...to the globo-gym this afternoon. I am sure to get evil and questioning glares when I practice handstand push-ups, but tonight is a pizza party for me, so I won't be able to workout in my regular CrossFit gym.

I am reading...What the Dickens, by Gregory Maguire. He's not a great writer, but his imagination is intriguing.

I am hoping...we sell the car and the house before we move.

I am hearing...Wishing and Hoping in my head. Apparently that last statement song bombed me.

Around the house...ahem. I plead the 5th.

One of my favorite things...lattes in the morning.

A photo I am sharing:

An action shot of me cleaning 95#:

Recipes for the Rest of Us: Chocolate Espresso Cake

Chocolate. Espresso. Nuff said.

I was pleased with this recipe because I wasn't really sure how much espresso to use. Generally, in cakes of this flavor combo the espresso overpowers the chocolate (seems illogical, but it happens). I truly like to taste the separate flavors. This cake resulted in a chocolate cake with hints of espresso, and it was truly delicious.

You will need:

1 3/4 c AP Flour
2 c Sugar
3/4 c unsweetened cocoa
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
dash of cayenne or cinnamon (optional)
2 eggs
1 c buttermilk
1/2 oil of your choice
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 c espresso + 1/2 c boiling water


Mix dry ingredients in a bowl and set aside.

Combine wet ingredients (except water and espresso) in separate bowl. Slowly add water/espresso .

Fold or mix wet and dry ingredients until well incorporated. Pour into 13x9x2 greased pan and bake for 30-35 minutes. When done, the cake should still appear "wet" on top, but will be springy to the touch. Be careful not to remove too soon or it will fall.

I made a standard buttercream frosting (confectioner's sugar, vanilla, butter, milk), but next time I think I'll add shortening to the frosting to create more "fluff"


For your viewing pleasure, I have included a photo of our cake after the hubs and I got ahold of it. We like to leave cakes within easy access for drive-by tastings as we pass through the kitchen. I made a joke with the hubs about him "evening up the side" after I had cut a chunk off. What ensued was a little game of "Let's see how awkward we can cut the cake." I bested him.

Never go in against a Scandinavian Cherokee when cake is on the line:

Simple Woman: May 10, 2010

Outside my window...sunshine. Really and truly, sunshine cures everything. Of course, here in the deep south, sunshine generally has friends, namely heat and humidity. The last few days, however, those last two have been vacationing somewhere else, so the weather has been breezy and glorious.

I am thinking...about my OB/GYN appointment today and how hard it will be to say goodbye to the doctor and woman who has walked me through so much the last 8 years. She's the one who noticed just about everything wrong with my body and sent me to the appropriate specialists. She's the one who held my hand (and the puke bucket) after physical exams when everything hurt and she was still trying to figure out what was wrong. She celebrated with us when the boys came home and held me when they were gone. She went beyond the call of duty in every aspect of my care, and I will miss her.

I am thankful for...a husband who does the dishes in the morning (It doesn't take much to make me happy), even if, by his own account, his motivation was 1/3 selfish (too many dishes in the sink for him to wash the french press).

From the kitchen...an espresso chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. AWESOME! Recipe coming soon.

I am wearing...those $9 sweat pants again with a T-shirt from the butcher that reads..."Nothing Butt the Best"

I am creating...an atmosphere of paranoia. The hubs and I are on a mission. We will finish ALL 7 seasons of the X-files (the ones after that were sans Fox Mulder, and really...what is X-Files without Mulder and Scully?). One interesting side effect of watching 3-4 (or 8...ahem) episodes a day is the shift in thinking. Everything is now a conspiracy theory and the government is always involved.

I am going...to Germany in 6 weeks! Oh wait...I've already mentioned that haven't I? Yeah, that date couldn't get here soon enough.

I am reading...your mind (you will notice that the sarcasm is back, a sure sign that I am healing emotionally).

I am hoping...to see as many friends and family as possible before we move.

I am hearing...the distant sounds of a military training session. Usually this involves choppers, low rumbles, and faint gunfire. The hubs has told me it is eerily similar to the sounds he heard when he was deployed.

Around the house...a lot less stuff than there was last week. Thank Heavens. We worked our tails off to sale stuff and throw stuff out. This week, more stuff will be sold or thrown out because we only have 6 more weeks until we move to Germany (oh wait, I already said that, didn't I?)

One of my favorite things...my dog. Margot, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi, was EXTREMELY strong-willed as a puppy. We went through a week or so where we fed her from our hand to teach her who the alpha was (not her). For the longest time, she wouldn't sit with us or let us hold her on her back. The positive side to a strong-willed dog comes when the hierarchy is established. She is just over a year old now, and she is quickly becoming the best. dog. ever. (Odie, a Corgi my in-laws had, will be hard to beat). She has recently learned the awesomeness of sleeping on the couch while we watch T.V. And she is obedient, even when distracted. Yep, she's a keeper.

A few plans for the rest of the week...prepping for the move, taking Margot's health certificate to the USDA for travel clearance, and X-Files, because the truth is out there.

A couple of photos...the first one of Margot as a puppy. I mean really, who could resist that face:


The second, a Christmas Market in Germany. Apparently, Christmas is HUGE in Germany. I'm not usually one to deck the halls, but I am really looking forward to this:

Normal Grief

Apparently, I am normal.

Who knew?!?!

Last week I paid my therapist $100 to tell me just how normal I am, which is a far cry from my life a decade ago when I paid my therapist $200 to tell me how psychotic I was.

For those who know me, whether in real life or on the innerwebs, my greatest struggle right now is no big secret. The last week in February, just days before we were to receive the paperwork for finalization, The Department of Family and Children's Services decided to disrupt our adoption placement. We lost three boys...three brothers who needed a home are now back in foster care.

Yesterday, I saw a church leader at a local coffee shop. The conversation went like this:

Him: So how are you doing?

Me: (chuckling) All things considered, I am doing good.

Him: So how are you doing?

Me: (more somberly) I'm grieving. It is what it is, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it.

Our conversation continued; He offered me grace; and told me I was normal. God love him. He had enough sense and presence of mind and understanding of grief to not say anything stupid. God love him.

I am now far enough through my grief that I feel compelled to share some truths about loss.

Grief is normal. Yep. Extreme loss = grief. If it doesn't, see a therapist so they can tell you that you aren't normal.

Grief is ugly. Those on the outside don't like to look at it. They would prefer that it went away. Old Testament folk understood this. That's why grieving people donned sackcloth and ashes. So people would know they were grieving and leave them alone.

Grief is a process. Old Testament people knew this, too. People in mourning were set apart, and actually given time to grieve. People were expected to give them space. The attire said, “I'm grieving. My loss is too great. Please go away.” I also imagine this was done so people didn't say stupid stuff to the hurting.

Grieving people cry...all the time. Even in their sleep, apparently. After the Hubs found me crying in my sleep, I mentioned this to the therapist. She assured me that this was normal, that this is my mind's way of purging emotions I cannot deal with while awake.

Grieving people don't need you to say anything. More importantly, they don't need you to say stupid stuff. Christians are notorious for saying stupid stuff because many Christians fall prey to the idea that faith in God precludes bad stuff from happening, or in the very least, that faith prohibits “negative” emotions. A dear friend of mine is writing a book with an entire chapter dedicated to What Not To Say. I can't wait to read it. Here are few on my own list (and as you will see, grieving people are also sarcastic and cynical in their explanations):

• “This must be in God's plan because it happened.” This is not scriptural. Sometimes sure. But not always. God's plan was for man to live forever in unity with him; but man's freewill messed that up. Man's freewill is still messing stuff up. God isn't surprised, and He's not up there thinking, “Well, crap, what do I do now?” But I am convinced that more often than not, bad stuff happens because of (wo)man, not God.
• “I know how you feel.” No, you don't. Even if you have experienced the exact same loss, you can't possibly know how I feel because you aren't me. Or maybe you once knew, but now that you are on the other side of your grief, you have forgotten just how ugly it was.
• “God is in Control.” You know what, I didn't like it when Twila Paris sang it either. I know God is in control, but sometimes in the midst of my grief, I get mad at God. David did, too. But God gets it, and He's okay with it. I don't need you to fuel that anger by telling me that the very God I am angry at is the same God that watched all this happen and didn't stop it.
• “Know Jesus. Know Peace.” Yes, that cute little bumper sticker is true, but that doesn't make me feel any better. As my church leader said yesterday, it just makes you want to hit them.
• “Just hold onto Jesus.” I am holding on. How do you think I was even able to get out of bed this morning?

Of course, by now you might be wondering, “What should I say, then?” I can only tell you the responses that helped me the most:

• The few friends who said absolutely nothing. Even when I was with them crying uncontrollably. Maybe they wanted to, but they didn't, and that was glorious and more comforting than anything they could have offered.
• My mother (not the biological one) who came into the bedroom after they took all the boys' things and just rubbed my back and said, “There's nothing I can say that will make it better.” She understands great loss.
• The friends who just called it like they saw it: “Damn! That sucks!”

Because you know what? Grief is a painful process. No medication exists that can help it. No therapist can make it go away. S/he can only help you through the process. And that process will sneak up on you in the most unexpected of moments.

Of course, other times, you see it coming. Like this Sunday. Or maybe you didn't notice it was Mother's Day. But I did. I always do.

Simple Woman: May 4, 2010

Outside my window...rain. I love storms. The smell of freshly moistened earth. Thunder plowing across the sky. The chaos created when the wind rips leaves and small limbs from the safety of the tree and scatters them in unfamiliar places. Perhaps it's the beauty/chaos dichotomy.

I am thinking...more and more about how I am going to spend my time in Germany. I could teach, and I would love it; but it would also be a vacuum that would suck any opportunity to really experience Europe. Or I could write and record. I am playing with a Julie/Julia-esque 365-day transformation that would involve this temple of the Holy Spirit and would focus on transforming the 4 aspects of loving God: Heart, Soul, Mind, and Strength.

I am thankful for...the many opportunities I have had to serve on the worship team at church. Music is the one aspect of my life that demands authenticity (Not to imply that I am not authentic in other areas. Quite the contrary, I'm disturbingly real). I can run from emotion until I find myself worshiping God with music. Suddenly, I cannot hide the reality in which I live. Serving has forced me to confront some very strong feelings of anger and grief, while simultaneously remembering the joy.

From the kitchen...GREEK YOGURT!! If you haven't tried it...go get some NOW!

I am wearing...wait for it...are you sitting down? A grey pocket tee with hair dye stains and olive-green cut-offs made from a pair of cotton sleep pants. Please contain yourself.

I am creating...pull-up hands, which consist of calluses and tears from hanging on the bar. I still have not reached my first workout goal: an unassisted pull-up. Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. I have muscles for days, and my personal bests for the power lifts go up every week. It's the motion of the pull-up that I can't get.

I am going...to Joshua Cup this afternoon to study German and buy coffee. Die Frau trinkt.

I am reading...absolutely nothing because I haven't been able to get a new book. I am going through withdrawals. I'm usually a 2-book-a-week gal.

I am hoping...God really comes through for some friends of mine.

I am hearing...God in the small things again. Like the birds chirping outside my window.

Around the house...a vacuum cleaner in the corner; dog toys on the floor; an empty fecal sample collector on the T.V. (because we have to bring in a "fresh" sample for Margot's vet appointment on Friday); a salt shaker in the den; and a plethora of other small items, evidence of our complete disregard for cleaning the last few days. According to Murphy's Law, the realtor should call and want to show the house within the hour.

One of my favorite things...laughter. Genuine laughter. Not contrived, but long and hearty. The kind that makes you have to pee.

A few plans for the rest of the week...Oh, I still need to help the sanitation department earn their wages by throwing out stuff we don't plan to take to Germany.

A photo I am sharing: This is my friend, Heather, a breast cancer survivor, and her youngest child, a girl who came home from Ethiopia in the midst of Heather's chemotherapy. I have set up an honorarium site through Susan G. Komen, where you can help raise $1000 in her honor for breast cancer research.