I Walk the Line

I was furious! I had been seeing my therapist for a while starting a few years ago and I was starting to get my Explanation of Benefits from my insurance company. It wasn't the copay that I was upset about. It wasn't my insurance coverage. No, the item on this sheet of paper that had me seeing red was...the diagnostic code. Written in the middle of the paper were the words "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." What? That was impossible. I checked to make sure they hadn't accidentally sent me someone else's paper. Nope. My name was printed at the top. I called my therapist and left a frantic message to her, imploring her to call me back as soon as possible. About an hour later, she was on the phone with me. I calmly explained to her that there must have been some mistake. That I just got my Explanation of Benefits and it said Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. There was a long silence and she replied with, "Yes?"

"Well, THAT can't be right! I don't have PTSD! I need you to change that."

"I can't change it. That's what you have."

She went on to explain my symptoms and asked if I had any questions. But I couldn't even think. Didn't even know what questions to ask. I quietly told her I didn't, hung up the phone, and snuck into the bathroom to collapse into a puddle on the floor and sob quietly to myself.

This couldn't be right. How embarrassing! Me? Diagnosed with a mental disorder? PTSD was reserved for those brave men and women in combat who fight for our freedoms. The soldiers who see atrocities that my brain can't even fathom. The military personnel who watch their buddies or commanders die right before their eyes. I couldn't possibly have PTSD. I didn't do anything to deserve this! Nothing happened to me like the things that people who should be diagnosed with PTSD go through. 

My next session with my therapist was painful. I cried. I sobbed. I denied that I had PTSD. I told her that was impossible. And I cried some more. She handed me a list...a list of the symptoms of PTSD:

1) Reliving the event/re-experiencing the symptoms

2) Avoiding situations that remind you of the event

3) Negative changes in beliefs and feelings

4) Feeling keyed up (hyperarousal)

The bullets that were under each number described me. I had difficulty sleeping. I experienced flashbacks. I had trouble concentrating. I avoided situations. Nightmares plagued my sleep. Certain things could trigger me into a panic attack. My world came crashing down around me. I was horrified to admit that I had PTSD. 

I am healing. My nightmares are less and less. My triggers don't send me reeling. I'm sleeping better. I am healing. 

And then, new demons began to plague and torment me. Knowing that I was not at my strongest and healthiest, the enemy began a spiritual attack on my soul. Convincing me that I was worthless. That I was a terrible mom. That I was incompetent in my job. And for a while I believed them. I was confused. I felt worthless. Sometimes, I felt like the only way I was going to find peace might be to exit this world. Give my girls a chance at a better life. And when you find yourself in that place, it is terrifying. Everywhere you look there is chaos and hopelessness. Everything you hear is a voice telling you that you are nothing. That no one would miss you. That your are worthless. And I almost gave in to those tricks. 

But faith! Faith pulled me through. Amazing family and friends pulled me through. Staring into the eyes of my children pulled me through. Reading my Bible and taking communion and journaling pulled me through. 

I am not completely free from those demons, but I am in a much better place. I know that I am not alone in my battles. That God is with me, right by my side, and that He will never leave me. That I have a wonderful team of family and friends here on this earth that help me walk through. That pray for the girls and me. That will be there to remind me that I am so loved by my Heavenly Father. I am blessed! So very blessed!

Last night, Emerson and I were walking to McDonalds while waiting for Amelia to get done with dance. As we were walking, our path crossed an older lady pushing a cart. She was dirty and looked tired and she was talking to herself. As we were approaching her, Emerson started to sing a little Bible song that she had learned in school. I started singing with her. As we approached the woman, Emerson kept singing and I silently prayed for this woman. She was talking to herself, swearing and looking so very agitated. And my heart broke for her. Experiencing PTSD symptoms and the spiritual attack pieces, I could understand maybe a little of what was going through her head. It is a dark and scary place to be.  

We kept walking and praying for her, and then I thought about the line. The very fine line between this woman and me. Without people who are willing to fight for me. Without the countless people that have prayed for me over the years. Without the power of the God that I have faith in. That woman could have been me. There were times that I just wanted to stay in bed all day and hide from the world. There are times that it took every inch of my being to not put my girls in the truck and run away from everything. There were times in the middle of the night that my anxiety and flashbacks were so strong that I would have given anything to make it stop. There's a fine line between this woman and me. 

But I walk this line, and I fight everyday to stay on the OK side of that line. With the help of my Father, and with the help of Jesus, and with the filling of the Holy Spirit, I walk the line. And they walk with me. As I think about my experiences, and as I remember how it feels to be in those moments where I slipped below that line, my heart aches. My heart aches for the many that deal with PTSD alone. My heart aches for those that walk the streets and look "crazy" but just need a boost, a support system, and a knowledge of a loving God that can carry them through. I know that I need to do something. I need to help! I need to pay forward the love and kindness and faith that was instilled in me, carrying me from dark moment to dark moment, and helping me walk the line. It is my calling to spread the word about PTSD perhaps, and help people understand the horror of that, and then the awfulness of being under spiritual attack. For honestly, I believe we all walk the line. And I hope and pray that I can help people walk theirs. It can be a lonely, terrifying walk. And not all people are as blessed as I am with love and support and faith. 

I say this often, but BE KIND! For we are all fighting battles. And we are all walking our own lines. Be kind, and have compassion, and pray for those of us who are struggling with the line. And reach out for help if you are the one struggling. It's hard to admit to others that you think you're crazy. It's hard to face the fact that you are maybe not mentally at your best. It's hard to admit or even know that you are under attack from the enemy. Don't be afraid to ask for help, or reach out to a friend or a pastor or anyone! Don't feel crazy! We are all fighting battles that no one knows anything about. Why do we do this? We should be here on this earth to love and support each other. We should be ok reaching out for help before it gets to the point where we are below the line. Where we are drowning and can't get out. And we should also be ok reaching out and helping the ones that are struggling. 

Be kind. And if you are struggling, continue to walk the line, and try to stay on the OK side of that line. And if you're close, give me a call. I've been on the not OK side. And I don't want anyone to get on that side and silently suffer. God will rescue you! God loves you! And I do too!

Ready or Not

On my quest to be happier and healthier, I have taken to not eating during my lunch break at work, but walking. I shove my earbuds into my ears, play some relaxing music with a good message, and walk a quick loop through housing to clear my head and get me prepared to face the afternoon. My heart rate gets up a bit, I get some time away from my job that can be oh so stressful, I get to have my soul uplifted with the songs I listen to, sometimes the sun is shining on my face, and I have time alone. But I also have time with God. 

I don't think it's a secret that I am a Christian. I believe in God. I have since I was a little girl. I was baptized as a baby. I went to a parochial school from Kindergarten through Eighth Grade. I have attended the church I am currently a member at since I was little. I have been religious for a long time. Over the last few years, my faith has ebbed and flowed between strongly convicted to barely hanging on by a thread. I will admit that I have struggled on my journey with my faith and with God through all of this. This has been especially true since September 30th, 2010. Five years ago this very night...

There are many details of that night that are forever burned into my heart and my soul. And going back to the PTSD that I mentioned yesterday, the memories of that night flood into my mind like it was yesterday. Several times tonight I have stopped myself from flowing into a panic attack. I have dropped to my knees and asked God for strength to push past a certain time on the clock. I have journaled and breathed and sang praises and talked to my Heavenly Father and asked Him for strength. I am strong in the Lord!

I mentioned yesterday that I don't do emotion well. So, my daily walk today was flooded with emotion sitting just on the surface. I finally slowed my walking, closed my eyes and asked "Father, how am I going to get through the coming month?" You see, I dread flipping the calendar. As soon as school starts, I begin to panic about October. I have never dealt with October well since 2010. One year I had a giant seizure. One year I ran away. One year I was drunk in a church.  By the way, I want to right now apologize to anyone who was impacted by any of those events. I just don't know how to do emotion well. And this is all BIG emotion. 

This year? I walk. And I talk to my God. And I asked Him "how am I ever going to survive this month?" Because seizures and running and drunkeness are not the answers. They didn't fix anything. They maybe helped in the moment. Were a protective mechanism for getting past the day. But I still am here today wondering how to deal with October. Feeling the panic. Feeling my chest get tight and my breathing speed up. Feeling my cheeks get flushed and the tears welling in my eyes. Remembering the words that were spoken and the pain in my heart as Brian admitted to me the awful things he had done. I'm not going into details here. Many of you know. Many of you maybe don't. But I feel my focus isn't supposed to be on the tragic story. It isn't about sharing gory details of what happened. It isn't dwelling on the past and the horrific things that transpired in my living room on September 30th, 2010. 

When I was walking and asked God how I was going to survive October? He had my answer...blog! Tell your story. Share with your audience your thoughts and feelings. Your trials and tribulations. Be a beacon of hope for those that are struggling. Be a hand that reaches out and saves someone from drowning. Take your experiences and lend your story to others so that they will not suffer. 

My journey the past five years has been wild. The girls and I have been on a roller coaster of emotion. We have gone from the lowest of the lows to the highest of the highs and back and forth again and again. And in the last week, I have hit the highest point ever of those highs! I have reached a new level of faith and freedom and it feels so good! It is so good, that I believe that it is my mission from God to share what the last five years have been. So that others may know that they are not alone. And that their story isn't done!

I thought many times that my story was done. That this was going to be how my story would end. When you're a little girl planning out your future, none of the stuff from the last five years was in that story. There just aren't stories with room for chapters filled with deceit and lies, assault and broken-ness, suicide and struggle. My story shouldn't have included torment and anguish and demons. But it did! My life certainly wasn't the romantic comedy I had always envisioned. It was never supposed to be the horror story that has been laid out over the last five years. There was no place in my story for being a widowed mom. No chapters filled with attacks from Satan and my own personal hell on earth. But it happened. 

So, I'm here in my living room, five years to the day from that night, running through scenes that continue to bounce around in my head. If I look across my living room I can see Brian standing there as if it was yesterday. And before, had I been presented with this opportunity to have him stand before me, I would have been furious. I would have wanted to give him a piece of my mind and say all of the things I never got to say. To ask the whys and what happeneds. To curse him for ruining so many lives in a series of events. 

But tonight, God has a different plan for me. Peace!  Forgiveness!  Joy! He heals my wounds and dries my tears. He casts out the demons and cradles me and the girls in His loving arms. And you know what else? He gives me the grace and love that I need to continue to write my story. God and I work together, not to rewrite the past. Before I looked at my healing process as rewriting the past. But that cannot happen. Those chapters, filled with the horror and sorrow and anguish and fight? I can now see that those are my blessings. The last five years was desperately needed to determine my place in this world and the path that I am supposed to be on. I needed to go through everything that I went through to get me to this moment right here, right now. The romantic comedy that I had in mind? The horror story that I thought I got stuck with? Neither of those is what God had or has in mind for me. He has walked me through the fires, and has brought me out the other side so that I can write my story. So I can share my story and help others to learn to write their stories. I know that God has a purpose in all of this mess. He sees me in the bottom of my mess, not knowing what to do with emotion and trapped and tarnished and panicky. And He pulls me out of all that, washes me clean, and gives me the tools to write my story. He gives me the tools to share with others so they don't have to go for five years of suffering before they are released and are free. With the help of God, I am writing my story! And how exciting it is to know that the best chapters haven't even been written yet!

So I will be blogging more often, or trying to, and telling my story a piece at a time. Maybe there will be a piece that you recognize. Maybe there will be a chapter you have read before in your own life. Maybe you will see a similar genre unfolding in your own story. My hope? My prayer? That something you read will help you out from under your own oppression. That a piece of what I write will save you from the depths of whatever it is you're going through. That maybe, you also will realize that you have a purpose and that your path is leading you right where you need to be!

Ready or not! Life comes at you with a myriad of challenges and blessings. Use them! The challenges AND the blessings, for you are writing the greatest story ever told! YOUR story! I don't mean to spoil the ending, but I know that my story will end in victory and I hope yours will also!

Let's Get Together

Last Saturday I had the opportunity to take part in the celebration of the life of Tom Deem. If you have read my blog before, I wrote a post about him in July as I was honored to write a tribute for his funeral service. He passed away in July after a brief battle with mesothelioma, but continues to live on in our hearts. As I mentioned before, Tom's passion was motorcycles. He was the president of the local Antique Motorcycle Club and they pulled together a memorial ride in honor of Tom last weekend. It was the coolest thing ever! Watching tough guys in leather getting teary and honoring one of their fallen comrades. Coming together to support Sherri and the girls. Taking a moment out of their lives to ride and love and come together as a community for Tom. I didn't expect to be so emotional, but I was! Watching the tears, being part of the pre-ride prayer and the blessing of the bikes, listening to the rumble of the bikes as they started off on their ride, listening to the stories of Tom while we stood around the campfire at the BBQ after the run, hearing my own girls tell me again how much they miss him, but can still hear his laugh and see his smile. The biker community loved and respected Tom. And from what I can tell they are careful to watch over and take care of Sherri and the girls also. This community of people, coming together, to celebrate a wonderful man and to share love. What a blessing!

I have thought a lot about community lately. It maybe started with Tom's ride. Thinking about the people that were a part of that group. Thinking about the bonds that were formed

 within that group. How they help and rely on each other. How they take time for each other. How they love and support and care for each other. 

I have struggled a bit over the past few months. My first instinct when I am struggling? It isn't to reach out for help. It's to pull away. To push everyone away and isolate myself. I just don't know how to do emotion very well so to save face in front of people I push away the very people that I so desperately need. In the midst of one of these moments, one friend told me that God intended for us to be in community. To not be alone and suffer without assistance. That word: community again. 

I had a teacher friend in my office today. We talked about her kids and the struggles that she is having with behaviors in her class. We brainstormed and talked and tried to come up with a solution. And as I walked away from that conversation I thought of the whole "it takes a villiage" idea. The fact that there is a community needed to raise and teach these kiddos and if even one link is missing from that community, we end up with kids who are lost and confused and naughty and not ready to learn. They act up and act out and we are left with frustrated kids and frustrated parents and frustrated teachers. They need all of the adults in their lives to come together to help guide them through, or push and pull them through if they are not a willing participant in the process. Community. 

Tonight, I went to my first weigh in after re-joining WeightWatchers meetings. I have been frustrated with how things are going with my weight loss (or lack of weight loss is more like it) so I joined meetings. And it was magical! I lost 10.6 pounds in my first week back! So proud of myself! When they asked what the secret to my successful week was? My answer was community! I needed the love and support of people in a meeting who knew my struggle and were willing to guide me through this process (or more likely push and pull me through as a sometimes unwilling participant.) Community!

So I stand on the verge of October. My heart races with fear and anxiety. My soul wounds surrounding this month run deep. I love the fall and all it has to offer, but I despise October, for that was the month when our lives came to a screeching halt. I am diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and October is a trigger for all of the awfulness that that disorder entails. Just thinking about turning the calendar makes my stomach upset and my heart race. How am I ever going to survive? How am I ever going to get through? Community. I belong to a wonderful community. Several actually. My community at work. My family and friends community. My community within my church.  My WeightWatchers community.  My community that I am a part of on Facebook and through people that read my blogs.  And even that rough and tough biker community. I know there are lots of people that love and care for me and the girls. That will give us the space we need when we need it, but will be right there to catch us when we fall, hold our hand when we are scared, hold us when we cry, love us when the day is rough, and just be there, silently supporting us and holding us up in loving prayer to our Heavenly Father. 

God truly intended for us to be in community with others. And I rejoice and thank Him dearly for all of the wonderful people He has placed in mine!

Be thankful for your communities...and be active in them also! You never know who you might need to bolster up. And you never know who you might need as a part of your community. It could even be a rough and tough biker. 

I love you, Tom!  I'm so honored to be in his family's community! And it's so good to have a guardian angel in mine!

You Didn't Love Her

Grey's Anatomy is one of my favorite shows. It is the one show that I have watched from the beginning and I rarely miss an episode. I love the love stories, the drama, the medical aspect, the characters. I laugh when they laugh and cry when they cry. And often, there are some very profound, and very poignant moments on the show. Oftentimes, there are quotes that I search for after the show is over, hoping to ponder their meanings. I write them out and think of how I can apply the quote to something in my own life, and oftentimes I am successful. 

One episode in 2007 caught my attention. I remember it vividly. It was October 2007. It was stormy that night and Brian was volunteering at the fire station for the night. I tucked my five-month-old Amelia into bed and turned on Grey's. One of the cases in this episode was the storyline of a woman who was a runner and losing weight to please her boyfriend. (Weight is a touchy subject for me so this could be another reason this episode stuck with me.) She was very sick and needed surgery but she didn't survive the surgery because her body was too weak from her extreme weight loss. Callie, one of the doctors, yelled at the woman's boyfriend, basically blaming him for her death and his push for her to be perfect for him. I remember listening to Callie's words and thinking, "Wow! That is so harsh! I'm lucky to have someone like Brian who loves me for me." I watched the rest of the episode and tucked myself into bed after it was over. 

Fast forward exactly three years to the day, to when our lives began to unravel. Brian died and things came up and I remember sitting on the couch sobbing through the night. In the back of my head, I kept flashing through several things. Panic at what I was going to do. Sadness thinking about Brian being gone and the loss of life as I knew it. And then, this quote from Callie. At the time, I thought her quote was appalling. How could she? How could she use those words against anyone? But they started to ring true for me.

Throughout my journey that has brought me to where I stand in this moment, this quote has come around more than once as I work through the grief process. Sometimes, I read it and immediately dismiss it as not true. Other times, I feel like someone could have spoken these words to Brian on my behalf. What are these words?

My process has brought me to a place where my life is amazing. I love where I am at in my journey and most days find myself grateful to be where I'm at. Today, for example, was great! Seahawks Training camp with my bestie and my girlies. Got to chat, if even for a brief moment, and get hugs from my other bestie. Texted with my sissy who should be home again soon. Had an end-of-day chat with my mama. Played with our chickens with the girls. Life today was good. But, even today, throughout the goodness of today, there was the constant undercurrent of what today was. August 5th. Today would have been our 9th anniversary. He's now been gone more years than we were married. And the Callie quote from Grey's came around one more time. 

Do I believe that he didn't love me? Do I believe that he simply married me so he wouldn't be alone? I don't know. Honestly, I don't know if I really, truly think that, or if that's what I have told myself to help myself survive the pain of him opting out of our marriage and out of our lives. But that last sentence. The last part of that quote is the most important to me: "...you don't destroy people you love." That right there is the part that I struggle with in terms of that quote. You don't destroy people you love. 

The good news in all of this? He didn't destroy me! He knocked me down for a while. And thinking of him, especially on days like August 5th, might take my breath away for a second, but he did not destroy me. I am stronger than ever. My girls are stronger than ever. We are a happy family of three. We have amazing family, the best of friends, a wonderful support system...he may or may not have loved me. I honestly don't care one way or the other. I love my girls. I love our life. And although I will always have the undercurrent of soul memories like August 5th, he did not destroy me. We are survivors, and we will continue to carry on, for our love for our friends and family is strong. And we work hard every day to build up those that we love. 

So, reflect on your relationships for a minute. Think about anniversaries and your partners, family and friends. Even think about strangers on the street. God's greatest command is to love one another. Think about your words and actions. Think about how you treat others in your life. And always remember...you don't destroy people that you love.  

Thank You for Sharing Him...

Dear Sherri, Miranda, and Rachel,

I am so honored that you asked me to write a remembrance for Tom. He meant the world to me, was like my other dad, another grandpa to my girls. My heart is broken thinking about what life is going to be like without him. When I started thinking about what I was going to write, I thought about all the avenues I could take. A poem? Nope. Tom was not really the poetry type. An essay? Nope. There is no way an essay would be able to capture the essence of what Tom meant to the people sitting in these pews today. How in the world could I ever get through this task? How could I capture Tom and what he meant to everyone here? How would I ever find words that would honor the man that so many loved and adored? Anything I could ever write would not be good enough. I worried. I stressed. I cried. I panicked. And then right when I was thinking about giving up, calling you and saying that this task was far too difficult and I just couldn't follow through, a Harley passed through the intersection at Fairgrounds and Central Valley Road, revved its engine, and flew down the road past our house. I smiled, with tears streaming down my face, closed my eyes, and pictured Tom, on his Harley, maybe flipping off the driver that had just cut him off, and zooming off into the sunset. And just like that, all the words I needed were right there in my mind. 

Hebrews 13:16 says, "And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased." As we were leaving the hospice house after saying goodbyes to a man that I loved so, and I was hugging Sherri, the words that I wanted to say to her were lost. I wanted so badly to console her. To share some great healing words, but I couldn't think of anything. I prayed for God to give me the words to help her at that very second. I squeezed her tight, held her close and whispered, "Thank you so much for sharing him with us." Because that is truly what happened. Her family shared Tom with so many people and I know I speak for everyone when we all thank the Deem girls collectively for giving us the opportunity to know and love Tom Deem. He was a loving husband, a doting father, and the best grandpa to little Edie. He was a true family man, loving and celebrating the successes of his family with each tender moment. 

After being a family man, he was a biker. Many of us will remember him, on a motorcycle of some sort, leather jacket with patches, and the biggest grin on his face. He loved riding Harleys. He loved working on and riding antique motorcycles. He loved taking rides on his motorcycles and would often call buddies, friends, and family to join him and Sherri on impromptu rides. He knew more backroads than anyone and just when you would think he had gotten you lost for good, you would come out and end up right where you needed to be.  He loved to tell of the time he went to Sturgis and there were so many bikes he needed to wait until they all cleared out so he could find his bike. Sometimes, Sherri would lose her spot on the bike to Rachel or Miranda as we rode to Pateros or Mossyrock or any of the other many adventures together. So, from all of Tom's biker friends and family, thank you for sharing him!

Tom also loved to travel, on a motorcycle or in a motorhome, in a hotel or in a tent. He loved camping and being with friends and family. Many memories of making beer at Dosewallips (and maybe drinking too much), the tents blowing away at Pateros, teasing us about rattlesnakes in the trees at Alta Lake, and tricking him by making hobo pies with a combination of everything from dinner that night. So, from all of Tom's camping friends and family, thank you for sharing him. 

Tom was a man with a gruff exterior. He burped. He farted. And he didn't care who was around to hear it. When anyone would introduce someone new to Tom, it usually came with a warning: "So, Tom likes to burp. And fart. And he might eat off your plate at dinner, but he's a really nice guy!"  Tom always carried a fork in his pocket so he could be ready to eat at a moment's notice. He would always ask "Ya got your fightin' gear?" and grin his mustached grin when we was teasing you. And he always shared that no matter how full you were, there was always room for dessert because that went to another place in your stomach. When dinner was over, he'd always encourage everyone to keep eating because whatever we didn't eat "would be in your omelet at breakfast the next morning." So, from all of the people who knew and loved the little things about Tom, thank you for sharing him. 

There are a thousand more things I could share and remember about Tom Deem. How he was such a gentleman (except for the whole burping and farting thing). How he was so kind (except for when he might have to flip someone off for being a butthead, as he might call them). How he would do anything for anyone at anytime. For all the little memories that everyone has of Tom, thank you for sharing him!

Losing Tom so quickly from our lives ripped a hole in many of our hearts. We all have the special memories and stories of Tom locked away in our hearts and in our souls. Stories and memories that will get us all through the days, weeks, and months ahead. Memories of his voice, his laugh, his basketball belly, the way he would suck on his teeth, the sparkle in his eye when he was talking about motorcycles, or Sherri, or Miranda and Rachel, or Edie. Treasure him in your hearts! Tell your stories of him to each other! Remind the Deem girls often what an amazing, wonderful man their father was. Continue to share him with each other! One day, we will be reunited! One day we will see him again! And I'm sure that he will greet us all, a smile wide across his mustached face, a leather jacket in hand, a fork in his pocket, and a hug for those he has left behind. God blessed us all when he shared Tom with us. So, to our Heavenly Father, we all say thank you for sharing him!

The Greatest of These is Love...

I am a sinner. A terrible person. I steal. I cheat. I lie. I don't always treat people the way I should treat them. I gossip. I say things I wish I could take back. I kill spiders when I find them in my house. I don't tithe the way I'm supposed to. I don't read my Bible regularly. Sometimes I forget to pray. I complain. I worry. I'm really an anxious mess sometimes. I'm not the greatest mom at times. I don't always keep promises. I am a terrible person!

I am also a Christian. So, I know that I am a horrible person and I know that I'm a sinner. And the beautiful thing? I also know that I am forgiven! I am the daughter of a King that loves me very much. God knew that I was a sinner a long time ago. Before I was even born. And He sent His one and only son Jesus to die on the cross and take away my sins. By grace I have been saved, not by my own works. This is so comforting to know. Out of all of the awful things that I have done in my life, I am still saved. I believe in my Lord Jesus Christ as my Savior. I believe that He paid the ultimate price for me on that cross. And that it is my job as a Christian to accept the glorious love of Christ, and to share the message and the promise of hope with my fellow human beings. 

It is not my job to point out other peoples' sins. It is not my job to condemn others for their choices. It is not my business to know what my friends and family do in terms of sinning. It is not my job to worry about the sins of others. All I can do is share with them the good news that they are forgiven! They are loved! And, if they choose to accept it, there is a place for them in heaven. 

We, as Christians, do a terrible job of this, in my opinion. And never has this truth been more prevalent to me than in the last couple days when the Supreme Court of the United States of America repealed the laws banning same-sex marriages. My Facebook page has been blown up with two very different camps. There are those that are celebrating with the LBGT community in their victory. And there are those that are condemning the decision and calling this as a sign that Jesus is coming back again soon. I have read comment after comment, post after post from a whole lot of people. And I am saddened by what I see. People are so mean to each other. People are saying horrible, terrible things about fellow human beings. This isn't what Jesus asked us, as Christians, to do. This isn't how I picture Jesus wanting us to behave towards each other. 

What do I believe? People want to know which side of the fence you sit in. People want to know. Are you a supporter of the decision? Do you think it's right? Do you paste your Facebook page with rainbows and celebrate equality? Or do you believe in the preservation of marriage as one man and one woman? Do you quote Bible passages and point out their sinful ways and demand them to repent!

Why do I have to be on either side of the fence? Why can't I just sit on the fence and show both sides love? Offer them my hope and prayers for the future. 

Where do I stand? I believe in marriage as the union of one man and one woman. That many times in the Bible God spoke of a woman leaving her parents and joining her husband. So what does this mean for me when I hear the Supreme Court has allowed homosexual couples to marry? Do I grab my pitchfork and torch and go after them? So I eye "them" evilly just knowing they're going to turn my friends and family gay? No. It means that I love them. And pray for them. I don't judge, as it is not my place.  I don't hate. They are not impacting me and my life. I just love them and pray for them. Why on earth would I do that? Do I have any idea how God feels about them? Yes! God loves them! God loves them so much that He already sent His son to die on the cross for their sins. All of them. And all of mine too. For we all sin and fall short of the glory of God. Thank goodness for such a loving and forgiving God! I only hope that we can be good models of Him as we Christians walk through this life, and especially this time in our society. 

Sadly, I have seen many that are not choosing this opportunity to love and witness to the masses. I happened to be around some people when they found out the ruling. The words I heard from them broke my heart. Derrogatory names. Hate and unkind words. It was so disturbing to me that I excused myself to another room and I cried. My heart broke as the scene echoed in my head. People that are strong Christians, people that worship God and are devout in their faith, were saying horrible, appalling things. And all I could think about was what if you were talking to or about Jesus?

Who did Jesus hang out with? Prostitutes. Tax collectors. Liars. Cheats. He knew that these were the people that needed Him the most! Sinners! Like all of us. Sinners! And I realize that there is a fine line I am dancing around here as I try not to judge the Christians that were judging others. The bottom line? As a Christian...as a sinner...I believe it is my calling to witness to others. Am I to walk up to a gay couple and point out their wrong doings? Proclaim to them that gay marriage is a sin and that they are signing themselves up for eternal damnation for their actions? I will not do this!  For I too am a sinner. And I believe that I serve a kind, loving Father who loves me dearly. My God forgives my lying. He forgives my cheating. He forgives me when I squash spiders. And He forgives others who sin. He forgives the homosexual who enters into marriage with another of the same sex. And He loves all of the sinners listed above. He loves them more than anything. 

Is it my job to judge? No. It is not, for I am just as guilty of atrocities as the next person. It is my job to love. And it is my job to pray. Matthew 22:36-40 states the greatest commandment of all: Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Love! It is our job to love. So I will love them. And I will pray for them. And I will know that it is not my job to judge anyone. 

Why did I have such a strong emotional reaction? One person said, "If you have that strong of a reaction to this topic, then you should probably keep quiet about it." So that was what I did. I went to another room and wept. I didn't say anything to the people that were using horrible words. But I cried because I have students I have worked with that I worry about meeting this sort of attitude. I have little boys that don't feel like little boys. And I have little girls that don't feel like little girls. They come to me sad and confused and not sure what to do. And my hearts breaks for them because I know that they will meet people like the ones that I encountered. They will struggle their whole lives with their questioning. They will walk through life feeling alone and unsupported, only to have someone, a Christian perhaps, call them a "fairy" or point out that they are sinning and are an abomination to God. And I weep for them. I weep for my children, both at work and in my home. Life is hard enough without being ripped apart and torn down by others. This issue goes so much deeper than this topic. People are just mean and rude and so intolerant. You don't have to agree with gay marriage! I don't! But I'm still going to love and respect those that do. Love one another! The greatest commandment of all! Hate the sin, but love the sinner! All sinners...liars. Cheaters. Murderers. And yes, even homosexuals. For we are all fighting battles. We are all trying desperately to navigate this world and to deal with everything that life throws at us. Atrocities and heartbreak, cancer and suicide, awful terrible things all around us. We are all fighting battles. Let's let the battles person to person be one less battle to worry about. Hate the sin, but love the sinner. I hope that someone uses this phrase when they are publicly shaming me for my sins. Because I am a sinner! I do horrible, terrible things. Everyday, I do something that goes against God's word. Every. Single. Day. And yet, I am saved! I think that my friends and family still think I'm an ok person. And I don't ask that you hear my lying and think it's ok. I wouldn't want you to condone me stealing if you knew that I was stealing. But you know what I would hope for? Rather than publicly shaming me and calling me a horrible name, I would hope that you would love me. Hold me close in your heart, love me, and pray for me. 

What an opportunity we have to witness to others, every day! We can choose to be a shining example of Christ's love and simply love others! Be kind. For we are all fighting battles...

The End of An Era

I love to watch reruns of the TV show Friends. I don't like to watch much TV so after I tuck my girls in at night, I put my DVDs in and spend my night laughing and watching these six friends and their journey through life as a close-knit group. Last night I put the disk in and pushed play. It was the one where Chandler and Monica decide to move in together and Rachel thinks they're all going to be roommates. Monica had to explain to her that she is indeed asking her to move out. Rachel and Monica both cried and shared a moment and both declared that this was the end of an era. And I cried...for Monica. For Rachel. For myself. 

You see, my school right now is experiencing the end of an era. One of our teachers, who has been with our school for 38 years, is retiring. This afternoon, we gathered together to celebrate her career, her accomplishments, her greatness. And it was glorious! Perfect! Everything that the party planners envisioned happened. The food was perfect, the fellowship was wonderful, the surprises were kept surprises until the end. It was a beautiful, wonderful tribute to a great teacher, a great person, a great friend. 

My friend. I have gone through retirements before. Several teachers, great amazing teachers, have walked through the doors of our school and into their retirement years, leaving behind a full staff of people that love and care for them. And I have shed tears at many of those retirement parties. This one was different. I didn't cry at the party. Inside my heart was beaming for my friend. Looking around the room and seeing all of the people that love her and care for her. That was the best moment ever. And I couldn't be sad! I couldn't be sad knowing that this remarkable woman had impacted so many people! Students. Parents. Staff. Family. Friends. She has altered the lives of so many! She has bettered so many people! She has had her hand in changing hearts and minds and molding people into being amazing individuals. Whether that is encouraging students to work harder to succeed or walking teachers through tough situations that make them better professionals.

I have been honored to grow ever so close with this person. I have worked with her for the past thirteen years. My whole career thus far. I was a new SLP that was introduced to this school. And I was intimidated by her. I had heard she was amazing. That she was a champion for her students. And I quickly found out how true that was. She was amazing.  She is amazing.  And I admired her from afar for a few years. And then I started talking to her. And pretty soon we were eating lunch together every day. And then I was telling her everything. Sharing with her about my life and getting to know her. I adored her! She was incredible! I quickly knew that I was going to have to pay attention to this one, for she was very wise, not only about school topics, but about life in general. She and I began to be bonded in several ways and I was so thankful. When I think about stories to share about our time together, there are many that flood into my heart and head. Our first IEP meeting together. How she saved me from a difficult student in her calm, firm miracle ways. How she tried so hard to have her daughter and I be friends and we didn't listen, but now we also share an amazingly close friendship. How she announced to the staff at a meeting after open house that I was pregnant with Amelia. And how I decided it was also appropriate for her to announce my pregnancy with Emerson. How when Amelia was born she held her and gazed into her eyes and loved her and was the best other grandma in the world. How both of my girls adore her and how she adores them right back. How I know I can go to her classroom with protocols and brainstorm testing with kids. How in meetings together she and I can lock eyes and have an entire conversation with each other without saying a word. How she rushed to my side the night that Brian died and sat up with me all night long, holding me on the couch and letting me sob, and often crying right along with me. How she walked and guided and learned and helped me over the course of our years after Brian died. How she introduced me again to her daughter and son and husband and they took my girls and me into their hearts as a part of their family. And there are a thousand more memories that I cherish in my heart forever. 

But another memory was etched into my heart tonight. One of her old students came to the party tonight. When the floor was opened up for stories and memories and words of praise for her, this student jumped right in. He praised her for making him the man he is today. He reflected on their time together in class. He hugged her and cried with her and thanked her for all she had done for him. And he turned and he thanked us, a room full of teachers he didn't know, for our service to kids. And a new memory was made. I will forever remember that moment because I want that! I want to be the kind of teacher that she is! And I already credit my friend for making me a better SLP over my 13 years. She has molded me and shaped me into being a better teacher for my students. But, I still want to be just like her when I grow up. That's the kind of teacher she is! I want to impact my students and parents and colleagues the way she has over her 38 years in this profession. I want to change kids' lives. I want parents to remember me as an advocate for my students. I want to impact colleagues in a positive way. I want to be someone who has students come back in 25 years and tell me that they are who they are today because of me!

Our jobs are so hard! And they get harder all of the time. But all that melted away today as I watched this teacher and this student interact and embrace. Our basic job, when we take away the testing and curriculum and paperwork and the things that make our jobs virtually impossible, is to raise these kids, raise these families, and raise each other. To be the best we can be and help our students be the best they can be. So one more lesson from my dear sweet friend: be there, listen, help make these kids into the adults that will come back and thank me for making them who they are.

An end of an era. At the close of the party, I got into my truck to drive home,

and made it about 100 yards down the road and sobbed. My heart is so happy tonight! Being able to give my friend the send off that she deserves makes me completely happy. But my heart is also breaking knowing that I will begin to navigate school life without my friend, without my person. That I will be on my own, much like the students that we raise and send on to better things. So, perhaps it's time for me to grow up. Step up into her shoes (as tiny as my feet are in her BIG shoes) and be the start of the next era. Because that student's speech changed my thinking and changed my heart. This is the end of an era for my friend and for our school. But what a God-given opportunity for me to change my perspective, love on my school babies, and know that maybe, just maybe, I can be the beginning of the next era. 

I love you, my friend, with all my heart. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me! I am eternally grateful that our paths have crossed. I'm grateful that you adopted me and molded me and worked with me, perhaps to prepare me for just this occasion. God blessed me with you, so that I may bless others the way you have blessed so many! I am a better person for knowing you! I am so happy for you that you will get to rest and relax! Job well done, good and faithful servant! May God bless you always and forever!

The end of an era...so a new era can begin!