Soul Misery (Part II)

I haven't blogged about this yet because I really wanted and need to think about it. I have been praying for God to help me come to terms with all the questions in my heart. As I said before, my mom was here. I have been asking her questions about my dad, his early years, the earlier years of their marriage, just life in general with him.

He is my father and there is a natural desire or yearning for love and connection with him. I have felt that hole of not having a father/daughter relationship for most of my adult life. I have really struggled with the questions of "Was his mental illness the reason for his craziness?"' Or "Was he just evil?"

So much has happened. I will turn 40 years old this September... almost 40 years of questions, longing, disappointment and hurt. I am not sure I can just say "Yes, he is mentally ill," and let it be. I don't believe that to be the 100% truth. I have to state the truth that lies in the deepest corners of my heart. My father was a very mean man. A person that took pleasure inflicting pain, in causing fear in helpless beings that he was given to love. He is a narassit. I know that is a disorder in itself yet I do not think it is an excuse.

The things he has done over his life time and this is not the physical abuse but rather emotional and pschcological is unforgiveable. (Unless he asked for forgiveness). He would choose to do hurtful things and gain pleasure out of it. He would systematically break down the self esteem of the ones he was suppose to love in order to prop himself up higher.

These are things that I have chosen to make excuses about yet can not any more. I have to face the truth. My father can never love me the way I need to be loved. I will only continue to face disappointment if I continue to look for that love that is not available.

WoW. I realize that as much as I have been gripping about my crappy childhood, begrudging that lack of a fatherly relationship that I have missed the biggest blessing. I have missed the fact that I was saved. I could have inherited that trait of becoming a narristtist too!

My middle brother is so much like my father, it is scary. He is and has always been my father's clone. Many of these things are simply bad choices. Yet regardless, he is going down a very similar path.

I need to be grateful for the life I have and the blessing that are there. Blessings, I am realizing are also hurts. Hurts that have made me the person I am today. Learning to go through pain, feel the hurt, work out the confusion, regardless of HOW MANY years that takes, makes you grow. Finding what to do with the growth is also moving on and part of healing.

Acknowledging that my father will never be what I yearn for is a huge step for me. I have always made excuses for him. I have even pushed him away, trying to forget him, to give him that space to hopefully miss me and want a relationship. It isn't going to happen. I realize that God is looking out for him. He is fed, clothed and has a place to live. God has it covered and so I do not need to worry. This is something I can't fix. I have to let go.

My father is a very mean man. He is a very selfish and self-centered man. He was given a second chance at life, literally last summer and has chosen to continue to be the person he is. He did not make anything of the chances he had to renew relationships with me or his grandchildren.

Maybe that is part of the sickness. Maybe that is just him. I am ready to let go. I am ready to be grateful that his contribution was having a part in my being. I am grateful for the qualities that he contributed to me as a person. I am grateful. But I am tired of hoping and wanting. I am ready to let go. I am ready to be grateful for that which is in my life... all the love, affection, and happiness. I am tired of wanting. I am grateful that I am not him. I am thankful for the powers I have been given to seek help when it is needed. To understand that I need to make changes in me also. That is part of growing and healing. That is part... a huge part of break a vicious cycle.

Soul Misery... it is the worst kind of misery. But thankfully you can chose to not dwell in it. You can chose to remove misery from your life. It is a process... I am still figuring it out. It is work. But I do believe it can be done. I want to be Soul- full.


A definition of a narcissist:
A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following[1]:
*has a grandiose sense of self-importance
*is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
*believes that he or she is "special" and unique
*requires excessive admiration
*has a sense of entitlement
*is interpersonally exploitative
*lacks empathy
*is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her
*shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Boys just being boys!

We went to a creek in Port Hope (where Sanj does a clinic on Wenesdays). We eat lunch and then the boys just played. I loved watching them. There are only 5 of the boys here. Jordan was at a friend's playing.

The boys caught many crayfish and minnows. We also came back with a LOT of mosquito bites! It was a great summer day!

Hear Ye ... Hair E

This child of mine hates haircuts. Yet his hair only grows upward!
Thank God for shears!

Sorry... It's SOLD!!!

After 2 months... our house is SOLD!!! I have never been more relieved. I am not going to miss that panic feeling of knowing I have to get the house ready for a showing. I will not miss having strangers walking through our house... maybe judging or just being nosey. I will not miss wondering if there really is a sucker for every house.

I am thankful for our friend and agent for his diligence and hard work. Now let's go shopping! House shopping with the cards in our pocket... hopefully.

Happy Birthday Sammy!

13 years ago I became a mom for the first time. It has been a life changing experience. Sammy has made me a parent of a teenager today. I am scared! I remember turning 13! Someone asked Sammy today..."Do you feel different?" He replied, "Yes!"
He is so cute. I love him so much. He is so full of energy and a constant force of motion. He is a loving big brother and idealized by his younger siblings.

He is gifted in so many ways. He is creative, athletic, smart and knows how to be a great friend. He is sensitive and kind.
He is growing into a great young man. I can't wait to see what this year brings for him.
Happy Birthday Sammy! You are a special blessing to me. I pray that God keeps you safe. I pray that you continue to grow into a wonderful man and have a life filled with lots of love, happiness and wonderful memories!
I love you!

A Day at the Beach

Today was our annual Rhema beach day at Sandy Beach. Our school gets done a week before everyone else so we hit the beach before it is packed. It is always a great day. This year though, we need parkas... or at least firewood! Brrrrr.... it was a bit cool and very breezy. But it did not stop the boys... they had a great time. It was a great start to summer! Now bring back that summer weather!

If Looks Could Kill...

This is my 3 year old with an attitude! Josh has learned "I hate you." He doesn't hesitate to use that phase. It is extremely frustrating because despite the punishment, he does not bend. If he is not sorry ... he will not say so till he is good and ready. Then you know it is heartfelt.

As you can see, he was in an "I hate you" moment. If looks could kill, I would have been finished!

Brotherly Love

This is Sammy and Zachary asleep together. I love it. Zachary loves sleeping with Sammy. They chat, listen to the radio and later than sooner fall asleep. Picture Perfect!

Talents

I was forever wishing I was gifted with SOMETHING! Everyone around me could either sing, dance, draw, play at sport, the list goes on. I was not a person with talents. I hated that about myself.

In high school, I was one credit short in FIne Arts. I usually took Choir, even though I could not sing because it was the easiest way to fulfill those credit requirements. Well my last year, there was only 4 people that signed up for choir and they could sing. So they became a quartet. What was i going to do?

Well the music teacher told me he was in need of a bass drum player. Hum...I was waiting for him to let me know how this was going to help me out. Well he thought I was teachable. "It's easy," he said. What he probably didn't realize is that I really did not have ANY rthythm.

I loved being part of the band. I had always wanted to play the flute and never had the chance. I loved being part of something.
Well soon it was apparent I wasn't cut out for the bass drum, either. My band director literally conducted the whole band with one hand and me with his other hand.

I passed but it was based on his generosity.

No special gifts or talents. I could barely draw stick people... playing Pictionary was a challenge all on its own. Sports? Did I tell you I was the kids who was always picked last in P.E. followed by groaning and rolling eyes? I didn't want to be on their team either. I hated P.E. Again, nothing.

The typical answer I would get from my friends was but you are so loving and giving. You are so creative. Hum... that is like telling an ugly person that they have a good personality.

This was a fact of my life that I lived with for years. I was dishearten. Why had God not given my at least ONE gift?

It took years for my to learn that my gifts were different. I did have a good personality. (well most of the time). I am still trying to figure out some of my gifts but mine are not the norm.

Did you know that being loving is a gift? Or creativity is a gift? Hospitality? Generousity? Seeing the glass half full is a gift?
Energy? Excitement? All these are gifts. Faith is a gift. I didn't know that. I have many gifts, some have grown over the last years, some have taken a back seat. Some gifts have been nurtured by people in my life.

I have many gifts. I have learned to acknowledge that I am not the norm. I can't sing, play the drums, dance or even catch a ball with much grace. But I can be a great friend. I can get you excited or scared about something. I can welcome you into my home. I can do many other things.

I have had to accept that as much as I would like to be like everyone... I do sing 6th alto. I have had to learn that I am out of the box. AND it is OK. God made me this way for a reason. Liking myself has been a very long journey, one that I am still on.
But different can be cool. Unique is not so bad a thing.

When I started to accept myself, it was amazing to see thing from a whole new window. That is huge. How can I expect others to like me when I didn't like me? I know it is something said for decades but I realized it to be true. I was giving out vibes that said..."Don't look at me, I am not worth it." And then that is how I was treated.

When I realized I am OK... everyone suddenly seemed to agree.

Talents and gifts. Think out of your box... you have plenty.... it is a great discovery. Just start searching!

June 23

Today is my dad's birthday. He is a man whose life was one full of contradictions. It was confusing growing up with him. As a little girl, I remember great birthdays, great cakes, creative tiaras, gifts and happy memories. Then when I was 8 years old, birthday parties stopped becoming a pleasant thing.

My father explained that if we were to celebrate birthdays, wouldn't Jesus have mentioned birthday celebrations in the Bible? Thus this was not an acceptable thing in our house. Really the reason had to do with money. There was always a lack of it in our house and I suppose maybe he just found banishing the celebration was an easier way to deal with it.

For many years our birthday were not acknowledged by my father. My mom found strength to contradict his decison and had birthday parties or small ways to celebrate with gifts. My father would always disappear on the day of our birthday. He would be gone all day only to reappear once we were asleep. Yet despite that fact that he was not physically there, his absence was obvious on our birthday. I don't think it ever felt really right.

Usually children remember a specific birthday or birthdays when they did something really special. Sammy often talks about the year it was a pirate theme... and we had everything from walk the plank to a treasure hunt. Or Tyler remembers the birthday we had the reptile zoo come into the school for his birthday. The birthday I remember most was my dad's 50th birthday.

I remember everything about it. It was a surprise party after church... we had lunch, there were friends over, a cake, a banner, and yet most of all I remember my dad's smile. His laughter and happiness were perfect for that moment. It is a moment that is frozen in my memories, He wore a light blue (probably polyester) three piece suit. I can see his tie, his hair is combed back and he is animated and alive.

My mom is smiling too. Maybe it is because his happiness is contagious or maybe we are safe for the moment.

My dad opens his gift from my mom. It is a video camera. Remember the big ones that rested on your shoulders? The camera become an extension of my dad. From that moment, he was the camera man. Maybe he liked that fact that he was hidden behind it. I don't know. But after that day, the camera went everywhere.

It was a great day. I don't remember my brothers and myself alot in this memory. I know we were there and we were happy because HE was happy.

From that point on, it was always about him. He always got the best presents at Christmas or Father's Day. Maybe we were trying to recapture that moment... that smile... that perfect feeling of everyone being happy and safe.

It is my dad's birthday today. It is always a day filled with mixed emotions. Yet it is a day that is easier to let pass quietly.
Happy Birthday... Dad.

One Month and counting

I have successfully gone one month without sugar. No desserts, ice cream, candy bars... no sweets. Don't they say it takes 28 days to break a habit? Well I can tell you that isn't really true. I still feel the need to think about my sugary friends... remember the taste of them... I miss them.

We went to the movies the other day and the boys had some Skittles. Josh was on my lap... his breath was Skittlicious. I kissed him... it was yummy. Sad, eh?

I am determined not let diabetes control my life. So I am trying to get control of it. I have learned to check my blood sugars myself. This is a accomplishment I am proud of. I am learning what foods effect me and how to keep my levels stable. I am learning to force myself to eat mini meals as so not to get shaky.

I am trying to take baby steps. I have a tendency to grab hold of a project and set unrealistic goals for myself. Then I wonder why I failed. Baby steps and allowing myself time to conquer it. I am trying to give myself permission to feel proud of each success and then move on to the next baby step.

1. Give up my sugary friends
2. Learn to take my blood sugars (Ok I was forced to do this at the diabetic clinic...)
3. Add a small amount of exercise in my day. I know that if I think that I am going to the gym for an hour... I will fail.
So baby steps... a walk 3-4 times a week. Then I hope to increase that to 5-6 times a week.
4. The gym will come.
5. Keep drinking water... eventually give up my Diet Coke. This is where I get my sweet fix from right now.

Baby Steps. Making myself feel the pleasure of the small accomplishments. A friend of mine told me that she needed to just know that at the end of the day she had done the best she could.

I like that. Did I do the best I could at the end of the day? Most day... yes.

Church

Church was good today. I love church, at least until the sermon comes around (unless, of course it is my brother speaking). I love singing, the words are worship for me. Then when we sing the occasional hymn, it takes me back to another time in my life. It is good to go back, sometimes.

Today was a family church, where we all stay in the santuary, instead of the kids leaving after praise to go to their various classes. The theme was about The Potter. They brought in a potter who showed us it worked. She gave the kids some clay to play with afterwards. The boys loved it. Clay is not easy to get off whatever it gets on.

The last 2 songs were ones the kids got noise makers and instruments and sang with. The kids loved it. I thought, "This is what church is suppose to be like." This is where God is smiling down on us. The kids were being kids ... moving and making noise as the sang... as they worshipped. I loved it.

I love church. I hate the effort it takes to get there. There is another force ALWAYS at work while we are getting ready. Sanj was on the praise team... so he left early. As he passes our sunroom, he notices water on the floor. He calls me and lets me know, as he leaves. It is not a little water. It was flooded. One of the windows was ajar and it must have rained really hard last night. I was splashing around as I moved the furniture to sop up the water. I was not a happy person on my way to church.

Then I had the battle with Zach over what shoes he could wear. Sammy couldn't find any pants to wear. Jordan was walking around with a towel. Then there was Tyler, mopping about whether he would be able to golf later in the day. Then I have to walk into church and smile, say "Good Morning" to the cheerful greeters at the door.

I love church. I get fed most of the time. But why is it so hard? Is it this hard for other families? I think that Satan knows my buttons to push. The button is clearly marked "CHURCH".

Forward...

My older boys are getting to the age where girls are becoming more a part of their world. Girls, these days are forward. I am sure it has to do with the fact that they mature faster than boys. I am sure that some of that maturation comes from having older siblings. Or maybe being the mother of boys, they just seem more mature and confident.

I am not sure I am ready for this change. In Sammy's class there are 3 couples "going out." according to Sammy, not dating... they are just friends that like to hang out. Sammy seems to be the friend of everyone's. "Does so and so like me?" he gets asked.

I remember being in love with Jay McCauley. He was in my 5th grade class. He was so cute. I thought about him all the time. Even though we moved to Florida in the middle of grade 5... he occupied my thoughts constantly.

Then there was my youth group leader, Terry Hudson. He was hot. But he was older, actually quite a bit older and probably had a girlfriend but my friends and I enjoyed living in a dream land.

The list continues... none of those crushes became anything other than crushes till university. But I remember my feelings at the age Sammy and Tyler are and it is a little disconcerting that they are such little people. Of course, they swear that they do not "like" any one. Yet I am sure they are very aware of the opposite sex in a whole different way. Much has changed since their little play dates.

I can't even imagine Sammy contemplating a kiss. YUCK! But i suppose this is a strong possibility in the near future... well hopefully not so immediate future. I can't fathom Tyler having a racing heart as he thinks of reaching for a girl's hand.

Where did the cooties go? Come back cooties, come back!

The Mother In-law Blog

Mother in-laws... I have so much I could write on this subject. I am not sure how many years it takes to be considered an expert on the subject, perhaps by now I have mastered itl. This blog COULD go in many different directions but I am going to focus on mothers and their sons.

It is the weirdest relationship, a mother and her son. I have been fascinated with the subject for many years... 13 and a half years to be exact. My in-laws weren't to keen on my from the beginning. No matter what I did, it was not good enough. It all boiled down to the fact that I was taking Sanj away, at least in his mother's eyes.

Apparently his mom told someone, "Sanj was all mine before." I guess she did not like sharing. I was more than willing to share. I have watched my mom with her daughter in-laws. Fascinating! While I could write a book on in-laws, this is about me. This is about my thoughts and fears concerning mothers and their sons.

Daughters and their mothers always have a relationship, though complicated many times, it is usually a constant. Perhaps it is really that mothers feel they lose their sons to their wives. It is the cycle of life, I suppose.

The nicest ladies, the most passive ladies, the most Christian ladies become different when it comes to their sons. Frankly, it scares me. I have 6 SONS! What will I be? What kind of mother in-law will I be? How will I handle these women in my sons lives? I am scared. I can be fiercely protective. I am never wrong and I have lots of opinions. Doesn't look good, does it?

So I keep telling my girlfriends, "Please KEEP ME IN CHECK!!!" "Smack me, if you have to!" Yet, the thought of my babies in the hands of those creatures really scares me. OK... kidding, but not really.

I have been trying to learn from mother in-laws I know. One of the biggest things I believe is HAVING A LIFE OF YOUR OWN. I see a lot of women in the generation before me that do not have their own life. So of course the focus is on their kids and what they are doing wrong or right. I want to be strong in my self, with a life full of hobbies and activities that I can really enjoy. I want to continue my circle of friends and believe they will continue to be fulfilling.

I want to be secure in my later years that there is no room for insecurities. ( I truly believe that in-law troubles come when insecurities eat a person up... whether that is the senior or junior member of the family). Insecurities should be a four letter word.

I hope and want to be confident in my job I did as a parent now, to trust my children will be equipped with the ability to make good and solid decisions. I also want to be able to know that as adults, my kids have to live with the consequences of their actions. I really hope that I can do this.

I want to be happy. Whether with Sanj (if he is alive, God willing), as a married couple who has a separate life ourselves, whether traveling etc. I want to know what I need to be happy and find that contentment. I want to love my family. I suppose this includes daughter inlaws. Haha... This is something that I pray for now as most of my boys are thinking that the girls have cooties. God, please be with my sons future wives. Please Lord, may they be filled with love and understand the gift of loving.

Lastly, I want to be able to LOVE my sons enough to let them live their lives, which includes letting each of them have the freedom to love whomever they choice. (Really, arranged marriages does seem to have its merits)! This is a hard thought now that I can not even imagine having to live it out.

Yet, I want to break the stereotypical image of the mother in-law.

I know that their are ladies who have GREAT mother in-laws. They actually brag about them. I want to be a great mother and yet what an accomplishment if I end up being a great mother in-law!

Welcome Summer!

It is 3:15 p.m. and all the children rush outside. The excitement is contagious... SUMMER IS HERE! The parents are excited... NO MORE LUNCHES... maybe if I am lucky, I'll get to sleep till 8:30 a.m. when Sanj is leaving for work. I can't wait. Report cards came home.... everyone passes. Grade 1, 3, 5, 7, and 8 next year!

I am not really that person that wonder's where time has gone... I know. I love summers when they pace is slower, no socks needed, just grab whatever you find clean or somewhat clean and off you go. Whether it is to the golf course, looking for bugs, riding on the bike or a day at the beach... that is what being a kid is all about. I love it. Welcome summer.

Popsicle juice dripping down the chin and on the shirt, scabs all over the body from those pesky mosquitoes, sweaty heads, watermelon seed contests... welcome summer.

I will miss the time hanging out with my friends in the circle... I will miss my quieter afternoons while Josh naps (I wonder if I can issue naps every afternoon, despite your age...), I will miss quiet lunches...welcome summer.

I am thankful for my sons. I am thankful for the time that summer gives us to really connect and hang out. I am thankful that they still want to do that. Although I am going to have more competition this summer with that golf course!

I am so thankful that Josh will not miss his brothers while they are off at school. He loves them so much.

I am so thankful that we live where we can appreciate the four seasons. Welcome summer!

Don't Cry Over Split Milk

I hate juice, especially when it spills on the floor. That stickiness is such a nuisance to clean. Don't you love it when you are out to dinner and the glass spills and you are dodging out of the liquid's way ... grabbing napkins to stop the flow? I learned not to cry over spilled milk.

Really, no kid sits there and says, "hum let me knock this over and see what happens.' Well ok, I realize that there are probably a few kids out there that may do that... but for the most part, it is just part of being a kid.

My brother, Rajiv was going through a phase of sorts. He kept spilling his drink. The more my father reprimanded him, the more nervous he became and couldn't help spilling. My father had enough. "If you spill your milk again, you are going to get beat." Well what do you think happened? Rajiv spilled his milk. My dad was livid. He told my brother to come to him. He was going to teach him never to spill his milk again.

My brother looks at me and says, "I didn't do it, Reema did." I was shocked. I didn't touch it. So my dad tells me to get up and come. I kept denying it over and over. He wouldn't listen but only got more riled up thinking I was lying. I got beat... with a metal fly swatter. He wouldn't stop beating me.

I was probably 11 years old. In my head I remember thinking, "I better just tell him I did it." So then I was being beat for lying.
It was quite a beating. Many minutes passed. I remember thinking, "I can't stand it, I might as well die." So I started to say, "just kill me, Daddy, kill me."

This soon stopped him. He later told my mom about it (she was at work). I had welts like you wouldn't believe.

When one of the boys spills their drink, I inhale, as it IS annoying, realize they didn't mean to and clean it up.

It is not worth crying over spilled milk.

Years, many years later, my brother admitted spilling the milk.

A Wolf at the Table

I just finished Augusten Burroughs"s book " A Wolf at the Table." I was annoyed immediately simply because I thought, "Darn, that could have been the name of my book." (Whenever that gets done). This book is a memoir of his father. I wondered if he shared my father? Did my father have a separate family somewhere else?

I love the visual of a wolf that table simply because often that was what our dinner time was like. Looking back, my father was probably OCD or maybe just plain crazy. He was a control freak. He would say something and then act like the real world lived by this too. He had odd habits that he would force upon us.

Example... alfalfa sprouts... he would tell us to all eat a handful at dinner time. I simply would put the whole lot in my mouth and wash it down with a big glass of water. WOW... did you know that was the WRONG way to eat sprouts? He would LOSE it. With a voice that shook with anger , just about to reach the exposive point, he would tell me I need to take a bit with each bite and dump a huge portion more on my plate. To this day I do not eat sprouts, perhaps just to defy him even now.

Other things like the temperature the food should be when served... or if he was not served his "special spoon" (a spoon that was a cross between a teaspoon and a tablespoon) he would lose it. He had a stainless steel plate that he eat out of ... just weird things that one would not take into account when having dinner.

When he did not get his way, he would BELLOW and his whole body SHAKE and take his hand and swipe all the food that my mom had just cooked onto the floor. This included the plates and glasses, so the floor was covered with our dinner and broken glass. We were starving but fear can replace the growling quickly.

We lived with the wolf at our table. Except he sat in every chair... they were too big or they were too small. He would eat out of all the porriage bowls and find them all too hot or cold. He made our dinner time a nightmare. Family dinners were not a pleasant time but rather a time to simply survive and not let the wolf get you.

The Straight and Narrow

Growing up, I was the kid that did as I was told. True, partly or mostly due to the fear of a butt-whooping but I was never one to break rules too often. Growing up, we were not allowed to listen to ROCK N ROLL as this music could only come from the devil. We woke up to "The Sound of the New Life." This was the Christian radio station in Dayton, Ohio. This is all we listened too. Even when I got my license, I never really thought to change the station. I remember the day my brother, Rajiv reached over and switched the station to Z93! Even though I knew my dad was not in the car, it was very unnerving. When we reached home we just would switch the station back.

We were not allowed to go to the movie theatre. I never went. Well, OK I did sneak off once with my girlfriend to see Rocky because a boy I liked wanted to go. (Obviously he was just using me for a ride)! I didn't do this till my senior year in high school.

I never sneaked out of the house, broke curfew (even though it was unreasonable... but I was a girl). I did not "forget" to do my chores (I learned that lesson quickly and young too)! I did not tell lies (at least not ones that would be found out).

You get the picture, right. I was a good girl. As I grew older, this stuck with me. I was never a partier, never drank anything other than diet coke, never smoked anything even once. Part of this may be attributed to the fact that I was a chicken. Or maybe I really was a goody-goody.

I never even had a boyfriend till I was in university. One, my parents would have frowned down on this, as they did not feel I was old enough. Second, there really was no one knocking on my door. Ummmm.... thus no doubt, my Valentine's Day complex. Ok the list could go on, but what is the point. I was a good girl.

When I went to university, there was so much to check out. But still, I stayed within the boundries I was familiar with. I think it was easier to do because most of my friends were similar.

After university graduation I experienced a very devastating experience. It changed my view of life, all that I once believed and of my reality. It was a very painful and confusing time. I was angry. Angrier than I had ever been and suddenly all that I thought was important, no longer was.

I had no where to turn. No one understood. No one got it. I was alone for the first time in my life. When you do not care or really feel that your purpose for life is gone, what do you have to lose? Not much.

I did things for the first time ever that I knew was wrong. In the scheme of things, they were mistakes but not as bad as they could have been. I was being saved. (Thank You, God)! When I think of some of the things I did, the dangerous decisions and possible consequences... I was an idiot.

Not only was I an idiot, I was alone. I did not feel that I could turn to anyone. It was a thankfully short period. God brought Sanj into my life to give me new focus. When I did share some of the things that happened, it was hard. I felt judged and misunderstood. This was my perception and how really could I expect others to understand when I did not understand myself?

It took years to make sense of what happened. I still don't understand it. But when you are trying to analize that behavior of another being, it is usually a lost cause. I think that thankfully there is a gracious Being that is all forgiving and knew me even before I was born, from beginning to end. He knew my mistakes and still used them to better me.

I realized that it is so easy to KNOW what the right thing is. Some of us see no other option than doing the right thing. But there are so many reasons to someone in the midst of a crisis why it may not be so clear. They need to ride this one their way... despite the fact that you just want to protect them, help them. They need to experience this, own it,figure it out and if they have not asked for help, then alone.. their choice. A choice that needs to be honored.

What can you do? Not much. You can tell them that you are angry. Why not be truthful? And you can tell them you love them. That is all they really want now anyways.

That is the sucky thing about love, if it is true... whether it is love for a parent, sibling, child or friend, you can let them know you love them not their behavior. Tough love... tough on you to see the pain coming their way yet loving them despite it hurting you. It is easy to love someone when it is all good, but the bad stuff... shows us what we are made of... real love will stand the test of time and pain.

The straight and narrow is a blessing and a curse.

Fake Holidays...

I have a friend whose husband died of ITP, idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP) which is the condition of having a low platelet count. He left behind 2 little girls and an amazing wife. This Sunday was Father's Day... it was a very sad time for them as they remembered and missed their dad. This is a whole blog in itself... but we were chatting about all the fake or made up holidays that card companies come up with that become "real" holidays.

I am not sure how many of you have wonderful relationships with your parents... if you are one of those, you are blessed and a minority, I am guessing. When I look for cards that are for parents, it is hard to find one that is accurate of my relationship. They are too gushy or flowery or the words are just not true.

I find these holidays, especially Mother's Day and Father's Day, leave many people sad or with pressure of ridiculous expectations. Their parents have passed on or worse yet their parents where NONE of those things that are described in card stores.

Then there is Valentine's Day. I hate Valentines Day. I hate it because it reminds me of the many years this fake holiday would make me realize that I had NO ONE. No boyfriend that thought I was special. No one to love me. It is a stupid day. It teaches the wrong message and does nothing except make you feel less than.

Maybe this is only me. But know that I am married and secure in my husband's love...I do not need a special day for him to tell me he loves me and vise versa. It should be something we do everyday. Now I am not going to lie and say that I don't appreciate the gift he gets me just because of Valentines or the pressure of Valentines... I love them.

The point just becomes how crazy that card companies benefit from these made up days. How crazy that there are so many people that will feel lonely on these days?

I wish we could permanently boycott these silly days. I have only named three... but of course there are many more. It is amazing what society is bombarded with subtly without thought.

Leaping Into Grade1

My little man Zachary leaped over the jump rope into grade 1 tonight! WOW! It was a big night for him and he was SO excited. He is such a HUGE personality with such a zest for life. I love his ENDLESS chatter all day long (and am exhausted from it too)!
He wanted a suit for his graduation with pinstripes. As I said, he knows exactly what he wants.

Zachary is not going to let size or birth order keep him back. He has no trouble keeping his brothers in line or getting something done. He is full of love and expresses it in so many ways. He will let you know if you did not give him a hug or kiss today. Such confidence! I love it!

Congratulations Zachary Thomas Sukumaran! I love you THISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS MUCHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

To Clique or Not to Clique

The dictionary defines a clique as " narrow circle of friends; an exclusive set." I think I heard the word clique in elementary school but saw the meaning of it in high school. The "IN" group... there are usually many kinds. There are the pretty girls and cute boys then the sporty ones and then there are the ones that have it all going on. They may be the kids that are pretty, have nice clothes, a cool car and money to spend. This kids have the pretense of self esteem and are just plain cool. You can usually spot them the first 5 minutes in whatever school you walk into.

When I think about it, it probably starts when you are just starting school except you call it clubs. Do you want to be in my club? Or the "No Girls Allowed" club... How do you learn this? How do you learn to leave people out? With 6 boys I see it all the time. Someone is easily left out, whether it has to do to lack of interest in the activity or personalities clashing... it is easy to leave some out.

This drives me crazy. Then when it occurs in adulthood, I just feel sad. I never fit into a clique. At least not by choice. Oh I could fit in with the misfits quite easily. I lived my life as if I was looking in through a glass. I could see it all, wanted so badly to be in it all yet there was a barrier. You do get used to it. You learn to accept it and perhaps learn to ignore it. I would feel like I was there but they didn't know it.

When I went to university, I discovered people liked me. I wasn't hanging on the edges anymore. I was invited to be a part of everything... I was really not sure I knew the rules. I remember hanging around a couple of girls that had similar backgrounds as me and included me. I loved it. I thrived on it. I was not being judged on things I had no control over.

What is neat about a university setting is that it is a large population and there are so many cultures and differences in people that when you find similarities you click or clique. Yet I did not find it as cliquish or exclusive. Now this may be because I was not one that was excluded.

As an adult I hate seeing cliques and being part of them. I know the destructiveness that comes out of it. I was in our vehicle at the pick up circle waiting for the boys to finish school. People come chat and catch up especially if the weather is nice. Some of my friend were at my window chatting. As another friend approach, my friend said, "Come join us... we are the cool group." It was said in play. My other friend replies, "Great, I have never been part of a cool group before!"

Whether that was said in jest or not, there is so much truth to that statement. How many times have we not felt "part of" something? How many times have you watched behind that window only to not be seen?

Do you ever see a group of people and think, "Wow, I would like to be friends with that person!" I do that all the time. Sometimes I never follow through. Other times it turns out wonderful and other times it just becomes an attempt and that's ok too.

There are times when "cliques" happen quite naturally when people have a commonness that joins them. It is one of those rarities in life... friendships that are effortless. This is true of my Good Neighbour friends. The committee brought us together and our friendship grew from there. But I think the key is not to have an exclusive attitude. That is when hurt occurs and when you limit the possibilities. You never know if that lady with the wart on her chin could become your best friend. Why close yourself off to the wonderful people that can cross your path?

There was a email forwarded ... you know the ones if you send it to 10 people your lucky will improve... but it talked about how some people come in your life and are meant to stay. Others come in for a time and then leave but leave a lasting imprint on your heart. I like to think of friendships that way. If you are my friend, have been my friend, it is a lifelong friendship. It does not matter if we talk or email... you are in my heart. You are a part of me and the person I am today because you have left a lasting imprint.

It is great to have your core friends that friendship that is tried, tested and true. Those friendships are life's precious gifts. I am blessed in that area. I have friends that were so patient with me, loved me and cheered me on as I made a world of discoveries. They are my glue. There is no fluff sticking there!

I am grateful as I have had to grow and move on that life has brought an endless stream of friendships that continue to help nurture me and feed my soul. The dictionary says: 1. a person known well to another and regarded with liking, affection, and loyalty 2. an ally in a fight or cause 3. a patron or supporter

Where would we be without friends? I am so glad I do not have to find out. In my loneliest days, I still had at least one friend. I did not know how lucky I was. Now I am just blessed.

Cliques... groups of friend... why bother sticking to the definition... rather than a narrow circle of friend... why not a wide group of various people with no limits. Circles are closed...who knows how many special people I would miss out on if I kept a narrow circle of friends.

Home

This weekend so much happened... simply put it was a weekend full of emotions that were up and down. We saw a house that we thought may work for us. As we walked back to our car, our agent got a page saying there is an offer on the house. I am not going to whine. I am only going to say that I have really left this with God. I am trusting and believing that He has a plan and is in complete control. Am I disappointed? Yes.

Sanj grew up in a few houses. He does not like change. He does not handle moving from house to house even though it is just the next step, usually as we outgrow a house or our needs change. Quite frankly, he hates it. He gets upset with me saying, "Won't you miss our home? How come you are not attached."

The first 18 years of my life I lived in 22 different houses. My mom is here visiting. We counted them together. All I can say is my father was a wanderer. But this is not about him. I did not get attached to things such as houses, cars, stuff. I never really had the same things for very long.

Home for me is where I am safe and loved. I can feel home pretty much anywhere. Home for me is where my family is. Home for me is where I feel comfortable and relaxed. Yesterday was the Dragon Boat Festival, raising money and awareness for breast cancer. We had a team from Rhema... there was a tent where the team members hung out. I felt at home. I feel at home at Rhema. I can just jump in and do dishes, hang out with friends and watch my kids play.

A house is not a home. I have been to many houses where there is just chaos. Or where they are waiting to finish this project etc... for me, no matter what house we live in, as long as Sanj and the boys are there, we make it home. I can not live in chaos. I can't wait to live in the perfect house. I need to live now. I need to be happy now. I need to make memories now.
A house is just a house. It is what you fill it with... love, noise, family, friends that makes it home.

I know that as we look at homes to buy, I see so many "stuck" in the 70s and 80s. A home buyers worst nightmare. Yet I can't help but think it must be heaven to children coming home. We went to a friend's parents house... it was amazing. It was her childhood home. Pale pinks and baby blues... you know what I mean. Floral patterned sofas with crocheted doilies. Lamps you touch to turn on. I loved it! Her home was just as she remembers it as a child. Home.

As much as I want this for my children, for us to find THE home that will "get stuck" in this era, I want them to feel at home wherever they are. I want them to know who they are and feel secure inside. To always feel "home" wherever they are with our love firmly entrenched. Never will they feel lost or as a wanderer. They will always know where HOME is.

We will found our house, I am sure. But we are always at home. We are always carrying home with us as long as we are together. It feels so GOOD to be home!

Happy Daddy's Day!

Today is a day that I could easily focus on the loss I feel while the whole world celebrates the great dad's in their lives. But I decided that the one great gift my dad gave me was life. I would be nothing if he was not in the picture. So to my dad, "Happy Father's Day!"

One of the greatest joys in my life is the relationship that MY children have with their dad. It is so great to watch. It is such a joy because it is so normal. Sanj is a great dad. He is a great big kid! He loves the boys with all his heart. It is in his actions all day. From the morning hugs, the "I love you's", the time his spends making sure they have all the opportunities such as the HOURS spent at the rinks, building their own rink, golf course, judo, etc. The wrestling around until someone gets hurt, the "special" omelets and the 10 year old trips with him.

Taking the boys to ball games, hockey games, meeting their idols, dreaming of dream cars, loading music for iPods, sneaking in pop or ice cream cones, splurging on a crazy hockey stick that mom shouldn't know about... the list goes on and on.

How great that the list goes on! What love! I also love the fact that they KNOW his love is unconditional. He loses it ... often over crazy stuff... and when he yells (or talks loud) the boys are not scared... Ok I know this isn't really the desired reaction. But when you have grown up in a house where your dad's rising voice means the storm is coming, it is great. I love that the boys know they are so loved that Sanj's yell is just loud words of love! :)

One of the moments I loved the most was one day we were in car driving somewhere... Sanj was really upset about something one of the boys did and was letting them know it. Zach, who must have been 4 years old, says, "Daddy, bring it down a notch." What can you do? Laugh out loud and love that my children are so confident in our love, they can tell us to chill when we need to chill.

I love that as they grow older they still sit on his lap, love sneaking into our bed, hiding out in Sanj's hideout ( the basement), just imitating their dad in every way possible. I love their morning chit chat... the scores of the night before or how Tiger Wood's hit a bogey (don't know what that means but I do like the word)! I love hearing them tell Sanj stuff he doesn't know. I love hearing, "Daddy, I love you."

What else is there really... playing hard, fighting hard and loving hard.

A couple of halloweens ago, one of the boys wanted to go dressed as Sanj, their dad. What a great compliment! I want to be just like my dad.

I am so glad that my kids are blessed with a wonderful daddy. Anyone can be father yet it takes a very special man to be a Daddy. What a wonderful title.

Happy Daddy's Day to all the wonderful dads out there!

The Good Neighbour

It is amazing how much school is always a part of us. 8 years of elementary, the 4 torturous years of high school, then 4 years of university and THEN still more for others. Then once you become a parent, you do it all over again.
Preschool, Senior Kindergarten, grades 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Xs the number of kids you have. PHEW! That is a lot of school! And that is just the elementary years!

My kids are blessed to go to a school (Rhema Christian) where we have become part of an amazing community. Yet while it was a place for them to learn and grow, it has become a huge part of me. Over the years, we have been involved in number of committees etc and Rhema is another piece of me as it is to my kids.

This week I ended my time on the Good Neighbour Committee. It was one of my babies. It was/is a special committee that focuses on giving back to the community in various ways. I loved it. Over the years it has grown into a wonderful group. I think was makes a committee successful is when you receive as much as you give.

The ladies on this committee have become some of my truest friends. They have hearts that are rare and special. They are each gifts in themselves. It was truly a pleasure to have been part of such a team.

I know that I need to move on to other things and it is time for new energy to come and charge this group and our school. But I feel very sad closing this season of my life. It had such a powerful impact on growing me as a person.

I learned so much about leadership. I learned there are SO MANY times when it is just better to be quiet. I learned that when your heart is in the right place, you can't go wrong. I also learned that keep God in the mix, He always comes thru! I learned if you feed them, they will come! I learned that when you need some thing done, ask a busy person. I learned that work and play is a successful combination.

I learned to let it go and not always have to be right. (That was a hard one). I learned that I have passions and dreams I didn't even KNOW I had. Boy, school never stops, learning never stops.

The season is changing. Change is always a little scary. Letting go is even harder.

Here I go...

The Non

I was a non. In my university days, I would become whomever I was around. If you asked me my opinion, I usually wanted to hear yours before answering. Then my answer would be based on what you said. If you asked me where I wanted to eat, I would say, " I don't know, what do you want?" How annoying. I am so annoyed with myself when I look back. Why did my friends even bother?

I grew up in a home that turmoil was a constant. So I would do what I was told to keep the boat from rocking. I was taught that. Maybe this is a survival skill a battered woman learns. I can remember so many times, we would come home from church and be at the dinner table eating lunch. My dad would be talking about what the pastor had said. I had totally different opinions. I am not sure whether they were right or wrong but nevertheless they were different from that of my dad. I would start to voice my opinion and perhaps liked the idea of rocking the boat... daring to question, daring to think for my self or have my own opinions... but would feel a kick under the table.

My mom. Her eyes were telling me to be quiet. Probably begging me to be quiet. My father could not handle being wrong or having his authority questioned. So my thoughts learned to become quieter. Oh I would continue to think loud thoughts in my head but that is where they stayed. Perhaps where they were safe.

When I went to university, it was a whole new world. I was free. I just didn't know what to do with that freedom. I knew I could breathe. I can still remember that wonderful feeling. Oh I was scared, not doubt. It was a big world. But it was so neat to know I could do anything. Well almost anything.

I think I was exploring all the things I could be. I remember thinking that person is so confident, I like that. Or that person it so selfish. Yuk. How thoughtful that was of so and so. I was being molded into all that things I could be and wanted to be.
There were all those things that were in my genes that I had to learn to grab hold of too.

I am not sure when I was tired of being a non. It took years of growing and feeling strong enough within to be the real me. It took a long time to trust that those around me would love me regardless. It took having Sammy to realize that I HAD to protect him. In order to do that, I couldn't be scared anymore.

I remember the first time I stood up to my inlaws. It was the first really time I STOOD. It was scary. Really scary. But I did it.
It had to do with defending my kids and I KNEW at that moment if I didn't I was letting them down. it was a millisecond decision but was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made.

It was a defining moment for me. I spoke my mind (really it was only a few word but still...) and no one hit me. Oh there were other reprocussions but ones I could live with. It was a horrid moment yet amazing. I only see the amazing now... it didn't feel great to stir the pot but now looking back ... that moment changed everything.

It is amazing what wee helpless babes can empower you to do. Slowly I went from a non to a mom. I went from having thoughts and opinions that were quiet to loud. And I felt safe doing so. This is a gift that I had/have with Sanj. I know that no matter how mad he gets at me (like when I ruined the ice rink) he will never hurt me.

I am safe. I think that one of the keys to leaving non-hood behind is feeling safe. Giving yourself permission to the REAL you. Giving yourself permission to be HAPPY. Giving yourself permission to be a person.

I know some nons. When I am around them or have a conversation with them, I feel restless. Almost anxious. I don't want to be around someone that is going to agree with me or be me. There is room for only one me and sometimes that is too much.
I see people in the 30s, 40, 70s that are nons. It is not too late. Let go and BE! It is so amazing to be free and be who you were meant to be.

Weirdo

Have you every walked by someone that is just weird? They stick out because they look odd or smell funky? Maybe they dress with no knowledge that some body parts were better left to the imagination. You know what I mean, right? Like some ladies that wear their jeans so tight that you have no doubt they ARE women looking at them in the front. How can you sit?

How about those plain ole ANNOYING people you can not escape from? Maybe at work or church or play group? Do they ever listen to themselves? How can THEY live with themselves? How can they not know?

How about people that have no people skills? No idea of how to fit in a group or just be?

Obviously if we are honest, we have these people in our lives daily. If you are cursed, then you work with one every day and there is no way out... until retirement or a Workman's Comp incident (Hum... there is an idea..).

I have so often found myself annoyed with such a person or wondered how they can live so clueless?

It is so easy to dislike the weird or judge them. Yet these are the same kind of kids that I am always lecturing my kids to be kind to, encouraging them to include them in their play...etc. Hum... yet again I find myself pausing. How come it is so easy to teach the "right thing" but what a nuisance it is to practice!

As I watched someone the other day, a bum on the sidewalk, I was hit with the fact that God loves this person. Sin was the reason for all the stuff that make people weird. Or what if I was that person? What if I had that birth mark that everyone stares at yet I didn't have a choice ... I was just born with it. That would suck.

So as I notice people that are different... I have really tried to think of God, and how much I believe that He loves me. And then when I try to place God's love on those people it does make me look at them differently.

I would not want someone to judge me based on the fact of my looks or appearance. Check out this guy... my brother met him at an airport and of course took his picture. He is a motivational speaker whose message is tolerance and acceptance.

Talk about weirdos and odd people... yet who would think he was anything more than a scary biker? Don't judge a book by its cover, eh?

Fancy Nancy

My brother Kumar has his own blog (Wonderingaboutgod.blogspot.com) and did this post called Fancy Nancy. He tells a nice little story about one of our "pets" growing up. Well my version is slightly different, so I couldn't be still. This is a picture of Fancy Nancy, Kumar's pet goat. What is missing from the picture are two more goats, not quite so nice as Fancy Nancy, and about 10 chickens.

My father thought that we should experience some of the culture he had growing up, such as drinking goat's milk and collecting eggs from one's own chickens. Let me preface this with we never had a dog or any other normal pet. But I suppose that isn't surprising, as we were NOT a normal family. We lived within city limits. We had a garage/shed that was converted into a makeshift barn.

And thus, a trip out to a farm and we had new members to the family. Understand, we were for the most part all afraid of animals. Kumar's goat was younger, so she was more controllable. He was 10 or so, and so he thought it was all great.

Me, on the other hand, did I not just blog about my high school years being horrid? Hum... I wonder why. This was the kind of crap I was hoping no one would ever see. GOATS, CHICKENS, oh, did I mention a trailer park behind us?

One day I returned home from some school trip. I looked out the school bus to see my parents driving up. As the door opens, who is in there to greet me... FANCY NANCY. My brother writes in his blog as he retells this story that being a teenager I was mortified. I am not sure that is a strong enough word.

To be mortified means: To cause (a person) to be self-consciously distressed. I am not sure the is a word to express that extreme embrassment or mortification I felt. Did I mention I was already a geek, outcast, misfit?

Thanks Kumar, for bring that memory back.

Oh by the way, after a while, when it got too much, the chickens became supper and the goats were adopted out... to a real farm again.

The Countdown Begins

370 days or so and Sammy will be graduating from 8th grade. Today his class went to one of the local high schools to check it out. They ended with a dance. OK I know my kids are not me (thank goodness) but I am proud of the self confidence that Sammy has to boogie with his friends.

I can't imagine this year coming being the last year of elementary school for him. I still remember his first day of JK. In many ways I am not one of those parents that says "Where has time gone?" I know where it has gone, 6 children later. But at the same time I would like to freeze for a few minutes.

High School was such a horrid time of my life. Probably the worst time of my life, if I am honest. I was a loser. I was geeky, gawky and wanted to disappear. Yet at the same time I wanted so badly to simply belong and not stand out. I wanted Hang Ten clothing, a different face and certainly different parents. I wanted to live in a different house and neighbourhood and drive anything other than the Ford Econoline I drove.

Now I look at Sammy as he begins to reach that phase. I want to make sure I do not dump my insecurities on him. I want him to belong and be accepted but not hang out with the wrong bad boys and girls. I want him to learn, grow and develop into a fine person with morals, manners and happy memories.

I have realized that it doesn't matter if you have the right clothing, drive a cool car or live in a mansion. You can't make someone love and accept themselves. Only they can do that . So as I struggle to accept the child that stretched my belly with marks that are a constant reminder of his presence yesteryear...almost as tall as me, full of love and attitude and then more attitude. This child that makes me feel that I do not know anything that he would know... this child that can be so loving and dear... I pray that I have loved him enough these past 12 years, that I have punished enough and prayed enough for him.

Now I have 370 + days left to hold my breathe and see how he grows up. I have to watch and see if he continues to love himself and be proud and strong in himself. I hope that this is his journey that he can see in himself as the gift he is and the pain he is and accept all of himself. I hope that he continues to grow and have his soul nurtured and the Spirit move him in positive ways.

Psalms 139

1 O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
2 You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
3 You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
4 You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
5 You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!
7 I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave,[a] you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you.

13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
16 You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.

17 How precious are your thoughts about me,[b] O God.
They cannot be numbered!
18 I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up,
you are still with me!

19 O God, if only you would destroy the wicked!
Get out of my life, you murderers!
20 They blaspheme you;
your enemies misuse your name.
21 O Lord, shouldn’t I hate those who hate you?
Shouldn’t I despise those who oppose you?
22 Yes, I hate them with total hatred,
for your enemies are my enemies.

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 Point out anything in me that offends you,
and lead me along the path of everlasting life.

Soul Misery

I had a session with my doctor this week. It is called Life Coaching. I have to admit that I thought it was kind fufuee when I first heard about it. But she is gifted in this. She says it like it is. I left last week telling her I didn't like her very much. But she calls a apple an apple.

So As we talked and i told her some of the things that I think suck in my life, she said "Soul misery is the worst misery." Stuff that makes your soul feel yucky. Jealousy is one of those things. As I complained about my childhood and the things I felt robbed off as a child, I realized I was jealous of people that had these easy ideal childhoods. Childhood is long gone, but the ramifications of ones childhood hangs on. I also realized I am jealous of people with truly lucky streaks. You know if you are one of those. I wish I was one of those people that things happened that I wanted or didn't even know I wanted came my way, easy.

Other things like liking my body... when I look in the mirror, I am often surprised with how I look. In my head I still feel 20 and remember my 20 year old body. Then I look in the mirror and there is more grey hair than yesterday, and even though I didn't eat carbs the scale doesn't seem to know that. HELLLLLLOOOO.... where is the me that I know?

What sucks is that when I was 20 and had a body I would kill for now, I didn't appreciate it. I was STILL conscious of a non existent belly.

Then there is the issues of unfullfilled dreams. Some dreams just aren't going to happen. It isn't in the cards. Some sad memories or hurts will never go away. How do I learn to live with it? I do not want to live in the past or live a life of regrets.

Soul Misery. How do you rid yourself of it?

So I am leaving my doctor's office... and she says, "Wait... here is your homework..."
ERK! Have I told you I hate school???

Read Psalms 139 ... I said oh... the one that tells me about being fearfully and wonderfully made?

Our weekend away...

I had a very weird weekend. So much happened and nothing happened. I enjoyed quiet time immensely. I miss that. It is different to have that quietness away from home, in a very cold room with comfy blankets and nothing around that reminds me of a list of endless tasks awaiting my attention.

I enjoyed a bit of shopping. I have a reputation as an shopaholic. This is true to some degree, it is accurate of me in the past. Josh is not a tolerant child that allows me to stroll through a mall. So over the last years this has changed. When I mentioned it to Sanj, He said, "people say that because your eyes light up when you talk about shopping". Fair enough. I do enjoy shopping, but wish others would understand that there are many other sides to my personality. I love shopping for others, my famly, surprising them with a little something. Besides, shopping for a family of 8 naturally makes you a shopaholic.

The spa part was nice, but left me with a little too much free time and trapped at a golf course with no means of escape. I did get a lot of reading done. But wished I had thought to bring the laptop, blogging would have been great.

I mostly enjoyed being with Sanj. Of course this was a business trip, so I found myself having to sharing him with half the world of hearing specialists.

What I enjoyed most was reconnecting with Sanj. Last night we had such a heart to heart. It was so good. We talk all the time but sometimes we don't have time to 'really talk". I love him so much. I am so blessed to have him in as part of my life.

I am growing each day, and making new discoveries about myself. I want to be free of the past yet learn to embrace what the past has made me today.

It was a good weekend. I am now back to reality. Wonder what we can do next weekend?