And so it begins...

Crazy In the Head

Deployment makes you go crazy.

Before. During. After.

Legit Crazy.

If you've ever experience deployment, you'll know what I'm talking about.

If you haven't, well I hope you never have to.

Dreams- Where in the heck to the wacked dreams COME from?

 I can understand the insane dreams of ninja terrorists breaking into your house, killing the dog and kidnapping you to bribe your soldier for information.

Or the ones where you miss the send off and suddenly realize that you won't see your soldier for an entire year and you don't understand what happened or why he couldn't say goodbye.

The nightmares, I expect. I hate them but I understand.

But, what about the ones where you find yourself in a foreign country trying to find your soldier and there are ten thousand uniforms and all the faces are blurred out and you can't find yours no matter how hard you try. You scream and scream and call for him but he doesn't answer...

Or the ones where your front door gets stuck and you can't open it for all your worth and the dog has to go out and contemplate shoving her out the window. and then the aspca comes and takes her away becase your neighbor saw you throw her out the window.

(so this may be an actual concern, seeing as how our door keeps getting stuck and I am not strong even to open it!)

Or, let's just talk about the crazy hormones going on.

S.T.R.E.S.S

What if I forget to change the oil in the car? What if I send our house into financial ruin?

Pizza for dinner. I should have made his favorite, I'm a terrible wife.

Don't ask for his help on this, you have to learn to do it alone.

He asks for another cupcake, I say no because they are for the party. He says, isn't it my party? Yes- but I don't want you to eat them now. Ten minutes later on the floor in a puddle of tears, he promises he didn't really want a second cupcake but says he'll eat five if I will stop crying.

I'm annoyed at him for throwing dirty laundry in the basket of clean towels. and out of nowhere the thought flies into my head, it'll be so much easier when he isn't here to make a mess!

 And then the hysterical tears of guilt.

Oh, the guilt. Have mercy.

I ran an errand when he was home. I missed 3 hours I could have spent with him.

I shouldn't have stayed up to watch American Idol, I should have gone to bed with him....

I've got to get out of my own head.

I am going crazy!

WE: not me vs. you.

"Hatred stirs up quarrels, but love overs all offenses."

Proverbs 10:12

There has been a lot of smoke around the milspouse blogging world as of late.

Most of you know what I am talking about.

I had to wait a couple days before writing this post, because I knew in my heart of hearts- that my ugly flesh would come roaring out if I did not allow the Spirit flood in.

I am addressing it, not to fuel the fire.

Not to defend my husband or my role as an Army Guard Wife.

Not to confront or put someone in there place.

And certainly not to spread gossip.

But I do think it needs to be addressed.

Because this kind of bickering and backlash tears a body down.

And aren't we all one body?

Don't we all serve for one common goal?

Didn't we all recite the same pledge and creed?

It is no secret, that in the military world each branch is distinct.

Army.Marine.Navy.AirForce.

Active.Guard.Reserve.

And we all know the jokes. the poking at each other.

 "marine jarheads",

  "ain't ready for marines yet army",

 "sailors who don't swim"

"air conditioned airforce"....

I would be lying if I said they've never been spoken in my household.

You'd be lying if you did, because we all say them.

And we all laugh.

But at the end of the day, whether I'm talking to my best friend whose husband is a deployed Marine,

or my co-worker whose husband and son are in the Air Force,

We are all in this TOGETHER.

We may not walk the same steps, but we walk the same path.

Its true, that I cannot relate to PCSing or moving across country.

But I do know the struggle of deployment without knowing another milspouse nearby to confide in.

I don't have to worry about My Soldier deploying every other year.

I worry deployment every two years. because our guard unit is the most deployed unit in our state.

The longest stretch (aside from deployment) that I've gone without My Soldier is a 3-4 month school.
But we've never known a one weekend a month, two weeks a year schedule. ever.

in fact we've been training for this deployment since four months after last deployment,

 and we already have alerts for the next deployment before this one even starts.

I don't call it a BX, I call it a PX. even though the only one in a 50 mile radius is technically a BX.

I don't understand the Marine ranking system.

 (my best friend and I try and figure out what means what in "our" branch....its really funny actually.)

The list could go on and on and on...

Because we are different.

But we are also the same.

When we start walking towards that place where we compare and try to exalt ourselves against our brothers and sisters...thats a dangerous place to be in.

As you can imagine, military spouses are STRONG.

We have to be.

We learn to brave a smile when our love in uniform kisses us for the last time in X months and walks away leaving us standing alone...

We take on dual parenting.

We learn to mow the lawn or shovel the driveway.

We take over finances.

We sleep in a big empty bed.

We wait all day for 5 minutes of delayed fragmented phone calls.

We study for promotions and boards.

We memorize ranks.
We learn acronyms.
We encourage and support our uniform.

When did we become me vs. you?

When did details break down a community of support and acceptance?

When did difference become distance, and camaraderie become competition?

I won't deny my initial reaction to this spiral of controversy.

I was hurt. Offended. Outraged.

As I should have.

But what does quarreling accomplish?

Nothing.

My sister said it best here, that every uniform, regardless of branch, regardless of rank,

stands shoulder to shoulder to defend our country and uphold their oath.

Shouldn't we as milspouse's follow their lead?

The D- Word

It’s time again. Time for calendars and countdowns,

checklists and to-do’s….

We’ve known it was coming for a while….it was just the time frame that kept changing. Pushed up, pushed back. Original date. New date. That’s the army way.

I feel like I’m doing pretty well considering. I can talk about it without having an emotional breakdown in public. And people keep asking me how I’m “dealing” and I find a quirky answer about being “army strong” and “soldiering on”… most days that’s fairly true.
But others, not so much.

It’s a whole new ball game this time around. I’ve done the whole long-distance, where-in-the-world-is-Waldo , talk once a week for 5 minutes and 22 seconds bit… only last time was our first deployment and I was blissfully ignorant to the suck I was about to embrace. And I was living at home with my parents and my best friend was in the same shoes. And I was in school. And working full-time. And busy busy busy.

Round Two is a little more daunting it seems…. living alone in a brand new, big empty house with a puppy who gives kisses but can’t talk back…working from home most days and having lots of free time and long nights…my best friend clear across country(literally) and my oldest friend, though just reaching the end of her first deployment - she has a baby and is in a different phase of life right now...

Everyone  I know that is facing deployment has a different perspective… they are not worried about whether their dog will ever eat again and how to stop the incessant whining at the door when he’s not home. And then there is the fact that I know exactly what is coming, and I don’t like what I see…

So, here is my fair warning of the whining that’s sure to come. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very proud of my soldier and I am so blessed to have the life we do- military and all…But, I’m still dreading what’s just around the corner waiting for us.

For some reason, I have it in my head that this one is the worst. First time- ignorance can be bliss- third time seems like one would feel like you’ve conquered the challenge before and survived.

But right there in the middle…. That’s what has got me a little worried.

Are any of you up for your second deployment? What keeps you distracted and focused on enjoying the time at hand?

I’ve heard both sides: start new hobbies, join a club, volunteer for an organization…vs… this is not a time to add stress and take on the world, maintain your schedule, stay busy but don’t add to your plate just yet… What do you think? Any suggestions?

At the end of the day, I know that my Lord is in control.  He knows when My Soldier and I will be saying our “see you laters” and where he will be going and how long he’ll be away and whether we will get an R&R.

He knows all things and all things work together for the good to those who love Him.

So if I start to lose sight of that truth, will someone please remind me?

I’d like to try and pull this off with a little grace. Not a lot, but a little…

Hopeful

My sister recently posted about her word for 2012…and it got me thinking.  For the past few months I have associated many words and descriptions for this year...

Words like Panic. Deployment. Fear. Dread. Countdown. Alone.

 These words have been trapped in my mind, tossed about and thrown into focus at any random moment.  They have kept me from resting in His presence and being joyful in the time that I have. But no more.

 New Year’s came and went, and I realized that I didn’t fall apart. That the earth didn’t shatter beneath my feet and the waves didn’t swallow me up. Neither did it change anything- those words are still there… but I’m still standing. And I’ve discovered a new word. An unexpected revelation for this year.

Hopeful.

Hopeful doesn’t mean no tears. It doesn’t mean my countdown reversed. It doesn’t mean that I am not fearful. And it doesn’t mean that I have a tingly excitement of something new.  However, this is what it DOES mean:

Hopeful means that Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow and 3 months from now, My Lord is the same.

Hopeful means new opportunities and advancement for the Kingdom.

Hopeful means that I am never truly alone. Because He knows where I am. In the day and

during the night.

Hopeful is the promise of what is to come… the truth He has a prosperous and successful future for me.

Hopeful is knowing that “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord”.

HOPEFUL means that these other words can’t control me any longer. Because you can’t hope in the Lord and be chained to the devil.

Will you be hopeful with me?

Whatever your situation is, whether you awake with dread each day or feel like you’re stuck in a pit of despair… or can’t see through the glass clearly and fear what lies ahead…

Will you chose to be hopeful?

And if you’re caught in a moment where you aren’t sure you have it in you, look UP.  There’s always hope when you look up… 

Somewhere between shock, panic and ticked...

I didn't sleep much last night, so forgive the jumbled speak.

We got some news yesterday, I knew it was coming.
But I was braced for X information and instead I was blindsided by ABC details instead.

There I was standing in the Christmas Tree Shoppe with my mama when I got the call from My Soldier. He had been in briefings all day...
And then the roof collapsed on my head.
And I feel like someone punched me in the solarplexus somewhere around 2pm and I have yet to catch my breath.  I'm just not ready to say goodbye again. I wasn't prepared for my turn so soon...I can't share the details of course, OPSEC. 

Could I ask my blogging family for prayers? I need some today.

 
  "When our hearts do not feel that God is still in control, we must consciously dwell on the truth of the Scriptures with our minds. Our thoughts can either drain our energy and cripple us, or be a source of strength when we meditate on God's Word."


 

That feeling when you sign your 30 page mortgage agreement...

Yesterday I officially joined the mid-20"s club.
And of course, My Soldier was MIA.
Drill weekends and TDY usually fall around holidays and birthdays.
Of the 4 years we've been together, we've shared just 1 birthday celebration each.
That's just how it works right?

I did get a present from the Army though.
A text message from my hubby saying he has 1 day to decide to re-up.
24 hours to plan the next __# years...

His service date is in June, so we thought we had several more months.
On one hand, I can not imagine a life without the military.
On the other... "normal" life, with a hubby at home. always. hmm....

But the gut-kicker was this: re-up and get a nice little bonus.
OR get out next June and he won't go on the upcoming deployment...I think the thought of getting out gave me the butterflies more than re-enlisting,
but all I got from the conversation was:

He could stay home next year. We finally got to talk about it late last night and have decided to re-up.
The Lord has yet to call us somewhere else. And we both have peace about the decision.

But you know that feeling when you sign your 30 page mortgage agreement...it still kinda feels like that.

Because no matter how you spin it- we signed over the next ___# years of our lives.

   

The Truth.

I've been thinking about what to write for months weeks... For one who is never at a loss for words- I was surprised at how difficult it was to find the words to fill an empty page after being gone so long.

It seems I go back and forth between raw, honest postings of the ups and downs in life and the run of the mill- this is what I've been up to nonsense.  The latter is usually easier to share.

But that is not what I am going to write today.
I'll be honest.

I think I've been avoiding you (the blogging world), because I don't want to be submersed in the reality that many of you are still enduring deployments, lonely nights, broken down cars, single parenting and the rest of our endless bulleted list when your soldier is away. I've tried to stay clear of reading stories that make me tear up and cling with a death grip to my soldier who I'm so blessed to have sleep beside me every night.Kinda pathetic and selfish huh?

Something in me seemed to crack a few months back, when my best friend sent her beloved Marine off to war like the rest of us. It's her first deployment.
Without making this sound like "it's all about me"... it has been like reliving my own.  And that means I am constantly aware of the monsterous typhoon cloud looming overhead.
Deployment #2 is closing in. I know this is life. This is my duty. I love being a soldier's wife.
But is it really possible to live through it again? I feel like I used to be the most independant person I knew. I hated every single moment of deployment. But I lived. I breathed. I even admit- I had some fun adventures!
I look back and remember, and I realize that I was given grace to endure it.
That I was never alone.  But I don't feel like that person anymore.
I don't feel strong and independant. or carefree or go with the flow.I feel clingy and weak and co-dependant. And must have a plan D incase A,B and C don't pan out.I feel smaller and a little less confidant that I can do it again. I don't feel like I am qualified to fill this role anymore.
Somehow I am still reeling from the roller coaster ride 2 years ago.2 years. and I still have the nightmares.
Drill weekends still bring occasional tears. a drill WEEKEND. Didn't I used to laugh at 3 months? Like it was a breeze to endure after 13? Where did she go?The one held it together, smiled bravely and said everything was fine-just so he'd make it through his day with ease? I think she's still in there somewhere... but how do I find her? 

The "D" Word.

My head has been spinning lately.

I keep catching myself playing the "what if" and "when" game...

deployment is slapping me in the face from every angle.

and my soldier isn't even deploying.
not for another year.

but my best friend's are facing it in their near future. they are making plans and adjustments. preparing themselves for single mommy-hood. steeling themselves for the rough journey.

and everything is flooding back.

the long nights filled with insomnia. the lonely days waiting for that blessed 5 minutes phone call.

I can't decide whats better, the blissful ignorance of first deployment or the painful truth of knowing what lies ahead. I've tried to be still and listen to what I know the Father must be trying to reveal through this.I know it isn't my burden to carry.

I believe and have faith that He gives grace sufficiently.

I KNOW He gives strength for each day.

And I still find myself trying to stand beneath the weight.

I want to spare them from the pain.

the fear. the constant worry. the loneliness.

I know how to be a hooah buddy and walk through the "tour of duty" when I'm going through the same thing. I've been there through the tears and long awaited letters, the 3 am phone calls because you can't sleep. planning skype dates and sending flat rates.

I understood because I was living in the same shoes.

But what will I say when I have my soldier in my arms?

How do I comfort in the middle of the night when my bed isn't lonely and cold,
when ACU's still line my closet and dirty PT's fill my hamper?

I'm scared my "hooah hooah hooah" won't be the same.

That kills me.

As thankful as I am that My Soldier won't be leaving anytime soon, I think I almost feel guilty for it. Like somehow I should walk through the same journey while they do. If only they would all deploy at the same time. later, not sooner.

If only Soldiers could arrive at home at 5 o'clock for dinner everynight
and tuck their daughters into bed for a goodnight kiss.
and no birthdays, holidays and anniversaries were missed.
and puppies were family pets and not guard dogs when you're scared to live alone.

If only the "sandbox" was a place where sand castles were built and seashells were lined in rows.
If only life were... simple? easy? fair?

Deployment. I just don't know what to do with you...

How do you face deployment fears?
Have you ever felt the weight of someone else's trial?

Let the Waters Rise if You Want them To....

It seems like Jesus has given me a song for each day this week, just enough to keep me singing through it. His grace is sufficient. Doesn't he always provide? Sometimes through means we can't always see, understand or even appreciate...but he is always faithful. Always present.
*****
On Monday I finally went to see my Nana. It was a difficult goodbye and I dreaded it so much. I barely said two words to my husband the whole drive. And believe me, only two words in an hour is a statement in itself. He was worried. (If you're concluding that I always have something to say- you win.) We arrived to meet my parents before going in to see her. I thought I was doing ok, but then I saw my daddy. You know when you were a kid and you fell and scraped your knee, holding in tears only until you see your Mom's face before falling apart?
Yup, that's my dad. Still works. Every time.
I lost it. But I knew I had to see her. To say goodbye. To tell her she could go home and didn't have to wait any more. I was the last one....I just couldn't do it before. I wasn't ready. But she was my Nana- she deserved a goodbye. I wanted to show her the same love and respect she had modeled to me growing up. I wanted to tell her I loved her again.
She's been sick for a long time. She was diagnosed with dementia four years ago, but for the last year and a half she hasn't recognized any of us. I used to see her every day, until the day she walked right by me in the hallway. And then the next time I went she was rocking a baby doll, singing my favorite song... it was too painful. I've wrestled guilt for a while, not visiting her in so long. Not being strong enough to handle the pain just to see her. She never knew... we were just faces at that point. But I still feel badly about it. When I went to say goodbye, I was taken back. She wasn't at all the Nana I had known. The pictures I had memorized in my mind.
She was sleeping. Snoring actually. loudly. The medications they had said. It took me a while to enter the room. We stood around the bed, talked about the funny memories and little quirks we all loved about Nana. We cried. And then I had them leave so I could say goodbye.
At first I just sat and held her hand. What can you say to a woman who loved you all your life, who made the best root beer floats, taught you to knit, gave you "mcdonalds money", had tea parties with real china and was present at every important event in your life?
I love you. I miss you. Your skin is still so soft and lovely. I am excited for you to see His face. I will see you again soon.
Tuesday evening my mom called. She wanted my younger brother to spend the night. She thought it was time. Two hours later she called my brother, Nana had gone to be with the Lord. I didn't cry. I needed to be the one to be strong. And praise the Lord he gave me the strength.
It was a hard evening for all of us. But a celebration too. There is no more pain, tears, or fear for her now. She is sitting at the foot of Christ. In awe of his splendor. I'm so glad I said goodbye. I'm glad she didn't have to wait anymore.

******
I had an appointment this morning and on the way I realized that the traffic was backed up more than usual for that part of town. And then at my exit, I realized why.

Several huge firetrucks lined the exit- displaying a glorious American flag, hung in honor of Sgt. Brandon Silk.Little did I know that my husband and his unit had just saluted our hero and my dad was among the police officers to escort him and the family. I was directly behind his processional home. I don't know why the Lord planned it that way- it was more than I could take at the moment. But there I was driving behind the crowds who came to pay respects and honor a hero, streets lined with flags, ribbons and posters, trying to make sense of it all. I can't come up with any answers as of now. Except that He knows best for us. That doesn't always comfort as it should.

As difficult as its been to watch my Nana become weaker and weaker, I have a better grasp on her death. She lived life, she honored the Lord. She loved and was loved. Her death is mourned, but it was expected.

Brandon's...I'm not handling so well. He was 25. Only two years older than I am. His life was just beginning. I try and make sense of this roller coaster of military life. I try and understand the sacrifice and dedication that I have become part of. That I take pride and honor in.


But now it's different. Now it's personal. It's close. Too close.

Before, this horrid fear caught in the pit of your stomach was around the corner.... on the next page forbidden to be turned... Now, it's next door. It's not that "I can't imagine", "It won't happen to me"... it's real. This scary, horrid, painful fear is real.

You can't escape it. You can't deny it. You can't ignore it.
It could happen. It might be me someday. It did happen to someone.
I sit here typing as my gorgeous soldier plays baseball on the wii, and life appears so simple...uncomplicated. safe. But it isn't.
Tomorrow he could deploy. Tomorrow he could be that soldier. that blackhawk crew chief. Tomorrow that could be me answering that knock on the door. It's unlikely sure, but it could happen.
But fear can't win. It can't control us. It can't control me.
because my God is BIGGER. GREATER. MIGHTIER.
He will give me enough grace for each moment. He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. He still deserves my praise. And He is faithful to help me sing each day.
*****
Don't know where to beginIts like my world's caving inAnd I try but I can't control my fearWhere do I go from here?sometimes its so hard to prayWhen You feel so far awayBut I am willing to goWhere you want me to God, I trust YouThere's a raging sea Right in front of meWants to pull me inBring me to my kneesSo let the waters riseIf You want them toI will follow YouI will follow You, I will follow You
listen here.

My Monster Under the Bed

Have you ever had a fear you held so close it nearly suffocated you?

No matter how you tried to shake it off, leave it behind, call it out, kill it... it always came back?

I've been walking around with my secret fear for years....since 6th grade to be exact.

It used to be an occasional acquaintance, but now we are inseparable. I never leave the house without it.

My fear wakes me in the morning and sends me off to bed... it haunts my every thought.

My fear has many names, though they all amount to the same snare of insecurity and inadequancy. My fear is my monster- shoved underneath the layers of façade, hidden behind the closed doors of my heart.

I first was introduced to my monster-fear in the 6th grade on the soccer field.

"Too bad you haven't lost all your baby-fat yet. Don't worry- you will eventually."
girls in middle school can be so mean

Thats when I first noticed. I wasn't perfect. I didn't look like her. I didn't fit. I wasn't good enough. From that moment on, I was super-glue. Every comment stuck to me with a death grip that wouldn't loosen.

"Some day you'll have a body like that"

but that someday never came.

"Don't worry, you'll never be that big"

but if I was- would you still love me?

"You just have a bigger frame. You're big boned"

BIG= bad, unwanted, unloved, gross. I therefore am those things

"Some of us just aren't naturally skinny, it's not your fault"

then whose fault is it? Why do I feel like the world is punishing me then?

In 6th grade I made a vow. I will be *that girl (*skinny, tan, long curly hair, dark eyelashes...fill in the blank)

At twelve, I decided to start counting calories. Writing down everything I ate. Sucking my stomach in so hard my back muscles cramped and my guts felt like they'd explode. I stood up straight. all the time. (didn't mama always say that you shouldn't slouch- you looked better straight?) I wore tight tank tops under all my shirts. maybe they'd hide my extra pound. I changed in the bathroom stalls- never in the locker room. I hid every inch I could.

In highschool I transferred schools. I met girls who didn't plot my destruction. Who cared. Who loved me. for me. not my clothing size or brand name. I became closer to my Lord who called me by name and knew my inner most parts. I was content on looking at Him.

Then I met a boy. I thought I was the lucky one. I thought because he picked me, I was special. I thought I was finally that girl I wanted to become so badly. I took my eyes off the Lord and look down. I looked at my reflection. and I sank....

"You'd look really good if you wore this"

if I wear this then he'll love me more

"I used to think you were too tall for me", "At first I thought you had a big nose"
how can I shrink myself and cut off half my nose? always wear flipflops, learn to use makeup to shadow and draw attention away of nose...

"I love that I can fit both hands around your waist and touch my fingers"

if he can't do that anymore, he'll think I'm fat. measure yourself and never forget that number

"You're so hott when you're tan"

he wants me when I'm tan, if I'm wanted- I'm loved

I took every comment, compliment or critique and buried it deeper and deeper, painting its words across the walls of my heart. It wasn't too long before those words defined me. Defined my thinking, my opinions, my decisions.

I felt loved when he noticed my clothes, my hair, my face.

I thought he cared when he made the decisions for me.

I thought he'd love me for me if I said yes.

Yes to that outfit, yes to only his calls, yes to dates every night

yes yes yes.

But I didn't feel loved. I felt trapped. Empty. Worthless.

I could never be that girl. not completely. I couldn't be that beautiful, that skinny, that perfect.

I wasn't in control. and I hated that.

I reverted back to the 6th grade. I wrote down all that I ate. I started with three meals only. then two. then dinner. because my parents watched me eat dinner. then I made excuses. I wasn't hungry. I was tired. I had homework. I already ate.

My brother locked me in the car and demanded to know why. I lied. he knew.

I started drinking juice to fill me up. to stop the embarrassing stomach growl.

I got an stomach ulcer. it felt like I was being stabbed repeatedly in the gut.

but thats how I felt anyways

My parents found out. They watched me eat. I was tempted to induce bulimia (by God's grace I never did). I fell into deeper traps until I finally said no. I broke up with boy. I thought my life was over. I realized I had life back. Jesus called me out of the pit. He gave me grace enough to stand. He healed my wounds.
But I wouldn't let Him heal bitter. I wouldn't let him touch insecurity. I kept my fear to myself.

College brought new light to my tunnel. I made new friends. Stepped out of my comfort zone. I became a different person. A person I liked. in public and in the confines of my own space.

I met a boy. a friend from the past. I put up a wall, kept him at arms length. I wouldn't go back to that place. that place where I couldn't breath. I wouldn't let myself lose control. I needed control. But this boy was a man of God. He loved me for me. He waited for months and months. I finally realized this man was my own. My missing part to make me whole. I finally told him I loved him too. I also told him I had issues. That I was chipped and broken in places. That though the deepest part of me was only his- my emotions had been spilled out and trampled on before shoved back inside me. He said he loved me anyways.

This man was a soldier. He left for Iraq. He was gone 12 months.
I couldn't control the distance. So I controlled my appetite. I lost 15 lbs. I loved it. I stopped eating again. I lost more. I joined a gym. I lost more. I got a tan. I felt like that girl again. but I felt empty again.

My Soldier came home for R&R and asked me to spend forever with him. I said YES!

I spent the last half of deployment distracting myself with wedding plans. and every single model wearing a wedding dress. No longer was sunkissed good enough- I had to be TAN. I needed that little belly bulge to be nonexistent when I looked down. Armpit chunk? I would cut it off if necessary. Needless to say- I delved into perfectionism.

Perfectionism my friend, is a death trap. It is insecurity in art form. For my own type A personality, I battle (battle as in fight with- I don't know as I've ever WON the battle...)perfectionism every day. On good days my sick pride tricks me into thinking perhaps I've mastered it. On the realistic days I equate my worth to gum on a shoe (ok- so slight exaggeration, I know God created man in his image). all because I can't be perfect. and this makes sense to me?

Well wedding day came and I was far from perfect. But I felt beautiful because My Soldier saw me as beautiful. I felt skinny because I couldn't breath that sucker-inner was reigned innnn!!! I felt tan because I had half-cooked my skin in the tanning beds. I felt noticed. I felt a little more like her (whoever this "perfect" girl is supposed to be).

Ever heard the saying that all things come full circle? or history repeats itself? It did. My cycle kept spinning further and further... Like hundreds of other ladies, I started the pill just before getting married. and it screwed me up. mega time. I became hypoglycemic and started passing out. (Low blood sugar and the whole starving thing, they just don't jive together well). So the doctor suggested switching kinds. and I did. No weird passing out/throwing up trauma. Just weight gain.

As you may have figured- that didn't set with me. A quick 10 lbs gain and I was spinning out of control again. So I flushed the pill. done. I figured- no pill, no weight gain. Starving will set in and I'll see that horrid number decrease again. wrong.

Instead I saw the number increase. Less eating. still gaining. I freaked out.

I went to the doctor. she told me I had an eating disorder. Compulsive eating. aka-binge or starve. In simple terms- I had broken my metabolism and it no longer worked. Though I used to be able to starve for the days following a "bad night" and lose weight- that no longer worked. My body was accustomed to starving periods and rapidly stored intake as fat for the "hibernation mode".

This shocked me into reality. I hadn't realized what profound effect the world's views had on me until I stared at a diagnosis scribbled across lab tests. I had done this to my body. I had in a way created the monster myself.

Admittance and acknowledgment is the first step right?

It's been about three months now and I can honestly say I've made significant ground. I am eating every 4 hours (for the most part) as directed to re-train my body and metabolism. But it's hard. I hate the disgusted feeling of eating while also feeling like the last thing you could possibly want to do is eat.

I thought I was doing great. and then I read this amazing book. And I once again was hit with reality. I may be making efforts to heal my body. But I am doing nothing to heal my soul. my heart. my spirit. I am merely trying to regain that control I love and need so dearly.

Can I share some of my "cringe" moments with you? These moments are the ones in which I realize that I really need God's grace and help. That I'm not at all in control and I have no right to be. These are the moments I look at myself and think- I did I get here? Who is this person I am seeing? Bare with me if they are jumbled, my guts are mush just admitting this to you all....

I've gained 32 lbs in the last year. thirty freakin two. I can barely say that number. I loathe that number. I would like to go to war with that number.

I most likely would have skipped out on graduation commencement if I hadn't known it would break my parents' hearts. The thought of 4000 people staring at me as I walked across the stage really did nearly kill me. I deleted most of the pictures. that moment will never happen again.

I begged my husband to buy an eliptical so I could cancel my gym membership- I never went because I knew people thought I should live there.

The last time I dressed up for my husband I almost passed out because I thought it wasn't good enough. I would have lived in hoodies and jeans if the summer temperatures hadn't come.

I change my order at a drive-through depending on whether a male or female asks for my order. I can't have a sugar calorie drink if a guy is working- I get a nonfat xyz..

Every Sunday morning results in a puddle of tears as I try and find something to wear that doesn't involve baggy t-shirts and jeans.

My most recent meltdowns have resulted from finding the "perfect outfit" for blank occasion:

Last weekend was a womens retreat that our Church hosted. I almost didn't go because I couldn't stand the thought of woman looking at me and the weight I've gained.

A close friend had a pre-wedding bbq and I literally cried the entire hour drive because I knew I'd be the heaviest girl there. I wanted to be that girl again. The one who looks perfect on her man's arm and everyone stops to admire. I'm terrified that he isn't proud to show me off. I'm terrified that others will wonder why he chose me.

Its moments like these that I just wonder what in the heck happened to me? I used to be confident, at least on the outside even if I was falling apart inside. But I started looking around too often, instead of looking up.

Instead of clinging to His word and perfect promises I cling to words of hurt and pain. I focus on statements like these, where my past rushes back in seconds:

"You know that girl that was here- the fat one- a size 8?..."
so if you're talking about a size 8 being fat and I'm a size 12 what does that make me?

"You look like you've been eating a few too many cookies there don't you?"

so a family member was confused and though I was the pregnant niece...but still- if I was that would not be the thing to say!

All these thoughts swarm my head day in and day out. I can never escape them. It's taken over. Taken control. It governs my decisions, my committments, my ambitions, my dreams, my marriage. my friendships. It has invaded and its got to stop. I don't know how. I just know WHO. Jesus is the only answer. He is my only hope. He alone can fix this broken heart and mend my weary soul. There is no other who can restore like He can.

Am I alone in this fight?

Do you wrestle with inadequacy and insecurity?

Are you afraid for the world to see you and not like what they see?

Is your worst fear entangled in lies from the devil?

Do you have a secret fear?

Hi, I am a child of the Most High God.

I was made perfect IN HIS IMAGE.

His grace is sufficient for me.

I am weak.

BUT HE IS STRONG.

I'm starting over with his mercies new each morning.

Will you join me?

Thursday's Monday

I'm finally returning to the bloggie-world! I could offer excuses for my absence such as cleaning house (yes- it took that long. TEN, yes TEN loads of laundry were piled in my bathroom. My hubby has enough ACU's to clothe a small company!), catching up on missed appointments, lazy days in the sun and a disfunctional computer (Can I just say that after spending an hour writing a heart-felt post, only to have it mysteriously disappear with no record of being written...is extremely frustrating). But enough with my excuses... I missed all of you!

Despite that I missed my Monday's Must Read- I must share it with you! As a graduation present, my parents bought me a Kindle (I LOVE it!) and my first kindle book purchase was

So Long Insecurity, You've Been a Bad Friend to Us by Beth Moore

Here's a quick review from Publishers Weekly
Prolific Bible teacher and women's ministry leader Moore (Get Out of That Pit) moves away from her characteristic dead-on expositions of scriptural principles in her newest; the topic is insecurity, and the content, she admits, is close to an autobiography. Moore, always transparent with her own personal struggles, is refreshingly so throughout this text. Readers will be chortling in laughter one moment and sucking air the next as Moore exposes the many faces of female insecurity. The author names and claims each one, then defuses every bit of power these nonsensical inner voices possess by countering their lies with God's truth. Women, no matter what their age, battle against advertising's siren call for unattainable physical perfection; the habit of making a man's love the ultimate validation; and the worldly definition of success as money, power, and status. Moore uses personal essays, women's true confessions, expressive prayers, and lots of commonsense suggestions to jar women out of their insecure rut. Readers will delve into this work and find themselves comfortably uncomfortable, and this is a very good thing. (Feb.)

I am still currently reading this book. And it's fabulous. I'm just beginning the 5th chapter, but already I am learning to take a new perspective. But more on that later. It needs a while to settle before I spill all. If I'm learning anything about my demented way of insecure thinking, it's that I'm clearly not the only one who struggles with confidence and self-esteem. We all do. So let's find the answer in His perfect acceptance and heal. Go on, check it out. You can find the book here or to learn more about letting go of insecurity visit Beth's website here.

Fast Forward

There is so much to say, to explain and update from the last few months.... but there is no time today....

We finally moved into a wonderful apartment that I adore. No mold- PRAISE GOD.

Hubby left for WLC (Army NCO training) directly before Christmas and during my two weeks of intense finals... not happy with the Army about that. I survived and finished my 7th semester in prelaw, one left!

Our first Christmas was wonderful, not at all like I had planned (thanks to the military) but still every bit as wonderful. I am so glad he is home with me this year.

Most pressing on my heart is where I sit at this very moment...in the CICU room in Denver Children's Hospital with my best friend and their adorable little girl. There is not enough time to start at the beginning and fill you in.... Aliyah Marie was born a month early on November 12th and diagnosed with a severe heart condition. They are awaiting God's miracle of a transplant. He is so faithful. This angel is the most precious little girl. She has entirely captured our hearts. Her story can be found here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/aliyahpomelow
and here: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/group.php?gid=181984597074&ref=ts

My soldier is getting promoted to Sargent on Sunday, I finally get to see one and pin him!

...all I have time for now, I will try to be better about blogging...these past few months have been, well- eventful.

safe in His hands.

As I was reading through a new blog tonight, I was blessed to "meet" a miracle. I could try and explain the compassion my heart is swelling with, but perhaps you should discover this little life yourself. read about this beauty from ashes here.

Jesus, you are so precious. Your grace abounding, endless. No one can begin to fathom the depths of your love, your glory and your grace. You see life in the midst of tradegy. Beauty in the midst of pain. Only you can bring peace to a storm with a simple word and fill us with joy when there is none to be found. Praise you Lord for your faithfulness.

Lord, you know better than I.

Fireproof

1 Corithians 13 :4-7

4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Last week I went to see the movie Fireproof, staring Kirk Cameron. The movie illustrated the concept of pure, unconditional love. A love that is strong enough to endure the flames... flames of infidelity, addiction, pride, bitterness, resentment, distrust, brokenness, hurt... A couple's broken marriage portraying the picture of our rejection to Christ. A husband's pride and cheap addiction, a wife's deceit and bitterness, all comparable to the idolatry and infidelity we commit daily against Christ. Every shift in priority, every shade of gray, every step closer to the line...oh how Christ must ache with agony as his Father looks down and sees his Son, his Gift rejected again and again and again. Yet each time I surrender with pitiful apologies and broken repentance, he brings me to complete restoration. Who am I that he should keep no record of wrong, that he should never lose faith in me, endure all my horrid transgressions? And yet he loves me the same. And I think, could I do that? Could I love someone who betrayed me? Forgive someone who traded me in? Trust someone who continuously lied? Bless and rejoice over someone who rejection who I am? My flesh screams no, but my Spirit withstands the flames. With a love like Christ, pure undefiled, agape love... a love to endure every circumstance and keep no record of being wronged...my flesh is weak, but my Spirit is strong.

Beautifully Broken Reflection

Beautiful

I was so unique

Now I feel skin deep

I count on the make-up to cover it all

Crying myself to sleep cause I cannot keep their attention

I thought I could be strong

But it's killing me

Does someone hear my cry?

I'm dying for new life

[Chorus]

I want to be beautiful

Make you stand in awe

Look inside my heart,and be amazed

I want to hear you say

Who I am is quite enough

Just want to be worthy of love

And beautiful

Sometimes I wish I was someone other than me

Fighting to make the mirror happy

Trying to find whatever is missing

Won't you help me back to glory

[Chorus]

You make me beautiful

You make me stand in awe

You step inside my heart, and I am amazed

I love to hear You say

Who I am is quite enough

You make me worthy of love and beautiful

-Bethany Dillon

Do you ever listen to a song and feel like your thoughts were just displayed for all to hear? With every word your heart feels a little more heavy, yet more relieved? You realize you aren't the only one....your brokenness and insecurity isn't so unique? And the best part is the ending, the breath to lift your sunken spirit, the hope flickering in your defeat. Theres relief in being broken, raw and unguarded, and yet theres tormoil. My heart constantly in conflict between feelings of doubt and insecurity, acceptance and perfect love. This causes me to check my own heart, I feel inadequate and scrutinized only when I am looking at a reflection, whether in the faces or the words of others or in the image of myself. It is only when I am looking into the heart of Jesus, eyes focused on the reflection of his words of love and truth can I feel enough. complete. perfect. accepted. truly loved. truly truly perfectly faithfully loved. So what does that say about me? All too often I am looking into the wrong reflection... I will never be enough, never be perfect, never feel adequate- unless- unless I look to Christ as enough, to Christ's perfection.

In His Shadow

Psalm 91
1 Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him. 3 For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease. 4 He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection. 5 Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor the arrow that flies in the day. 6 Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday. 7 Though a thousand fall at your side, though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you. 8 Just open your eyes, and see how the wicked are punished. 9 If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, 10 no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your home. 11 For he will order his angels to protect you wherever you go. 12 They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone. 13 You will trample upon lions and cobras; you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet! 14 The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. 15 When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them. 16 I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.”

A few months ago, while I was at my cousin's church, a visiting pastor's wife approached me. She knew my family that attended there and had overheard that I was newly engaged, so she came over to congratulate me. Soon we were in conversation and talking about my soon-to-be-husband. When I told her that he was in the Army and serving in Iraq, her face immediately softened. She took my hand and said, I have a story to tell you... she proceeded to tell me a story of a small country town during World War II...and the strength of the women in that town. There was a book written about their legacy and the legacy of the soldiers they were waiting for at home. Their soldiers, gone to war, were blessed to have such faithful, godly women in their lives. Each morning, these ladies met at the townhall for prayer. They gathered in a circle and together prayed aloud Psalm 91 over each and every loved soldier... Jesus was faithful to intercede, and God was faithful to hear their cries. That town, was the only town in their state to leave a legacy like they did...when the war ended and the women tied their yellow ribbons around the "Old Oak Tree", EACH and EVERY soldier came home. There were NO casualties from that town. God Almighty, our Defender and Protector, heard every prayer from the lips of those faithful women and kept each soldier safely in His shadow. I pray that I would be reminded and convicted to remember this story and not only faithfully pray for our troops, but to claim the Lord's peace and TRUST that my soldier and all those I love will find shelter in His wings...