It's just killing me not to have any pictures of Christmas. My camera broke earlier this month, and we are broke, too, coincidentally. So no camera for me. Thankfully, I was able to take lots of photos with Nelda's camera (my mom-in-law), but I didn't bring any CDs to burn them on. So I will have to wait til next time we visit to get the pictures. I do have video though. I'll have to clip together a little video when I get a chance (still crashing from the usual "after Christmas" let-down).
I made do during Bailey's birthday party by taking video with our little flip camera (you can snap photos from the video), and I broke out my good 'ol 35 mm from way back in the day which coincidentally is also a Canon Powershot like my poor broken camera. My dead camera was 3.1 mega pixels and was our major purchase that year, about 3 or 4 years ago, I think, and that was pretty darn good at the time. It cost us almost $300.
I was just at Wal-mart pricing cameras to see how much I will have to save up to get one, and you can get a 6 mega pixel camera for $85. Wow. They sure have gone down in price. But just like last time, I will get on the net and spend a good while researching to see how I can get the best bang for my buck: the features that are important to me for the least moo-lah. This time around, one of the most important features for me is the shutter lag time. I loved my Powershot; it took some really great, clear pictures, but the shutter lag time and time between shots was a little annoying. When you are trying to get a good shot of all the kids in front of the Christmas tree and you miss that split second money shot when they were all smiling at once - you just want to curse because it ain't gonna happen again. That was it. I keep trying for several minutes more; I always do, but it just ends in someone crying, someone screaming and the rest sighing in agony wondering when it will end!
Image stabilization also would be nice, but I'm not sure if I can get it in my price range. Gotta research! I will have to save up for a few months or more (taxes are due at the end of January, this time of year is always hard for us, especially if I have not done a great job at the budget, as is the case for this year - still not used to having 4 kids), but I would like to spend under $200, might have to settle for less than $150, depends on how I can control the budget. Pictures are precious to me, so maybe I will be motivated to do better this year.
I've already started planning my budget. I have a simple Excel spreadsheet Dan made for me to keep track of expenses and so I am not late on any bills. Email me if you want a copy: carriemays@gmail.com. Although I am sure Quicken or something like that is probably much better because it does the math and all, but this works really well for me. I got a calculator right here. I ain't afraida no math. It is like my Precious Moments bill organizer that I got from the kids' school fundraiser that ran out after December. I made it last for 2 years. In my own makeshift organizer, I print the table for inputting data on one side of card stock paper, then cut another piece of card stock into 2 pieces. I take one of those pieces and hot glue it to the back of the paper on the bottom, so it is a pocket for keeping your receipts and bill statements. I make 12 of them, one for each month, hole punch it and put it in a pocket brad folder, so you have more folder space for other things like stamps for mailing bills, special statements like taxes, etc. It's really nice to have all that stuff handy in a folder like that in case a bill doesn't come in the mail, or if you are like me mail just gets scattered around the house by little gremlins, so you can see the date it is usually due and look at the previous month to get the amount you paid. With 4 kids, right now all that I can seem to do right is make sure the kids are fed like they should be, and I only get that right because I have 4 kids saying "I'm hungry," every few hours. They might not always tell you they've pooped their pants, but they will surely tell you when they're even slightly hungry! Anything else is easily and most surely forgotten unless I have some sort of reminder set up, like my bill book, my Google calendar, the alarm on my watch. My life: crazy and unpredictable. And right now, not being documented with pictures...
I hope to rectify this soon. I'll check back later with my camera research!
Happy Holidays!
and my favorite holiday saying...
Jesus is the Reason for the Season!
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Bailey Turns 2 Today!
We just had a small family party - well, not that small since there are six of us! Bailey is still getting over a cold, but he had some good fun tonight at his birthday bash.
If you have time (about 11 min), here's a video mix (on Google video) of Bailey's 2nd birthday party: Party Video.
I love the look on his face as he watched his lit up cake when we sang happy birthday to him.
He seemed to enjoy himself, and we had fun watching him enjoy himself. We recycled some of Savanna, Dallas, & Noah's old toys, but he didn't care. He's my clean little man; he was sure to pass along his pieces of trash before continuing to unwrap his gifts so as not to make a mess with the wrapping paper. It's really funny if you listen to what Savanna is saying in the background as Bailey opens the gifts. She was there when we wrapped a couple of them. Of course, she was a little jealous, so we gave her a recycled gift as well. You can hear some of Bailey's words - trash, ball, car (go-go), Chelsea (for "dog," our dog's name), and also his screaming to get attention amidst all the chaos. Plus, he ate chocolate cake without making a mess on his clothes or eating area, a HUGE improvement over last year. I'm sorry you couldn't be there, but it was short and sweet, just like Bailey likes (he's little on patience), so enjoy the video!
Happy Birthday, Bailey!
Here's some more photos from the birthday bash:
Peek-a-Boo!
Mmmm, chocolate cake:
A "ba-ba"
A "go-go"
Hello?
Right here, Savanna said, "It's a box of shoes!" We all got a kick out of that comment!
Savanna's gift:
Checkin' out the go-go:
Daddy's girl:
Bye-Bye!
If you have time (about 11 min), here's a video mix (on Google video) of Bailey's 2nd birthday party: Party Video.
I love the look on his face as he watched his lit up cake when we sang happy birthday to him.
He seemed to enjoy himself, and we had fun watching him enjoy himself. We recycled some of Savanna, Dallas, & Noah's old toys, but he didn't care. He's my clean little man; he was sure to pass along his pieces of trash before continuing to unwrap his gifts so as not to make a mess with the wrapping paper. It's really funny if you listen to what Savanna is saying in the background as Bailey opens the gifts. She was there when we wrapped a couple of them. Of course, she was a little jealous, so we gave her a recycled gift as well. You can hear some of Bailey's words - trash, ball, car (go-go), Chelsea (for "dog," our dog's name), and also his screaming to get attention amidst all the chaos. Plus, he ate chocolate cake without making a mess on his clothes or eating area, a HUGE improvement over last year. I'm sorry you couldn't be there, but it was short and sweet, just like Bailey likes (he's little on patience), so enjoy the video!
Happy Birthday, Bailey!
Here's some more photos from the birthday bash:
Peek-a-Boo!
Mmmm, chocolate cake:
A "ba-ba"
A "go-go"
Hello?
Right here, Savanna said, "It's a box of shoes!" We all got a kick out of that comment!
Savanna's gift:
Checkin' out the go-go:
Daddy's girl:
Bye-Bye!
Friday, November 16, 2007
Savanna & Bailey Get Their 1st Haircuts Tonight
Bailey, almost age 2: I cut his hair first because he was sleepy (bedtime was the best time for this because he is a wiggly little critter!), so he could go to bed. Little kids have commented that Bailey looks like a girl. Adults probably think it, too, but kids are very frank with you. Adding that he carries around a pink "buddy" as his comfort item doesn't help, so I figured it was about time to give him his first haircut. His hair does not grow very fast like Savanna's whose hair was already halfway down her back by age 2.
Check out Bailey's Buddha belly. Rub it for good luck! He eats all day long; he eats more than I do!
Before:
His eyes are still hazel for now, for those of you who voted. They could still turn brown!
Bailey getting his hair cut:
After:
Such long lashes. Why do the boys get them?
Savanna, age 3.5: This is Savanna's first haircut, well, second really, if you want to get technical. I took her to a really inexpensive salon on April 14th (Dan's birthday) to get rid of her split ends since she just turned 3 and had never had a haircut before at all. She loved that and was very good for the hairdresser. I wanted to get it shorter then, but Dan wouldn't let me. Here's some shots from that day:
Savanna has been asking me for a haircut ever since Dan and the boys came home after their haircuts a couple of months ago. Dan wouldn't let me cut her hair before now because he really liked her long hair. He also likes my hair long while I myself would prefer shorter hair. Savanna's hair is so fine that it tangles easily, especially since she is always touching it while she eats and getting food all up in it. She scratches her head and tosses and turns a lot in her sleep, so her hair gets all ratted up. It's so fine that when we try to brush out the massive tangles, her hair breaks off. I have wanted to give her a bob for a long time now, and using the argument about the tangles, I was able to convince Dan to let me cut her hair. I love braiding Savanna's hair. I won't be able to do this anymore, but I have pictures! (from May 11th):
Don't you like that you can see Dallas's beautiful eyes in this picture?
I'm sure I'll get more chances to braid her hair when she gets older. She looks very pretty with her long honey blonde hair, but I can speak from experience - it is soooo high maintenance! And Savanna is not your girly girl. She has 3 brothers!
Before:
Here we go!
Savanna checking out her hair:
It doesn't look like a lot, does it? There was so much breakage from tangles.
After:
The back, after it's been blown dry:
What do you think?
Here's Noah. His haircut is still working for him.
I'm still trying hard to convince Dallas to let me cut his hair! I think he would look a lot more handsome if you could see his big brown eyes.
Maybe if I could get some comments saying whether you like it now or would like to see him in shorter hair. Maybe you can convince him to get it cut or convince me to let him keep it long! (Click on "comments" link below.)
Check out Bailey's Buddha belly. Rub it for good luck! He eats all day long; he eats more than I do!
Before:
His eyes are still hazel for now, for those of you who voted. They could still turn brown!
Bailey getting his hair cut:
After:
Such long lashes. Why do the boys get them?
Savanna, age 3.5: This is Savanna's first haircut, well, second really, if you want to get technical. I took her to a really inexpensive salon on April 14th (Dan's birthday) to get rid of her split ends since she just turned 3 and had never had a haircut before at all. She loved that and was very good for the hairdresser. I wanted to get it shorter then, but Dan wouldn't let me. Here's some shots from that day:
Savanna has been asking me for a haircut ever since Dan and the boys came home after their haircuts a couple of months ago. Dan wouldn't let me cut her hair before now because he really liked her long hair. He also likes my hair long while I myself would prefer shorter hair. Savanna's hair is so fine that it tangles easily, especially since she is always touching it while she eats and getting food all up in it. She scratches her head and tosses and turns a lot in her sleep, so her hair gets all ratted up. It's so fine that when we try to brush out the massive tangles, her hair breaks off. I have wanted to give her a bob for a long time now, and using the argument about the tangles, I was able to convince Dan to let me cut her hair. I love braiding Savanna's hair. I won't be able to do this anymore, but I have pictures! (from May 11th):
Don't you like that you can see Dallas's beautiful eyes in this picture?
I'm sure I'll get more chances to braid her hair when she gets older. She looks very pretty with her long honey blonde hair, but I can speak from experience - it is soooo high maintenance! And Savanna is not your girly girl. She has 3 brothers!
Before:
Here we go!
Savanna checking out her hair:
It doesn't look like a lot, does it? There was so much breakage from tangles.
After:
The back, after it's been blown dry:
What do you think?
Here's Noah. His haircut is still working for him.
I'm still trying hard to convince Dallas to let me cut his hair! I think he would look a lot more handsome if you could see his big brown eyes.
Maybe if I could get some comments saying whether you like it now or would like to see him in shorter hair. Maybe you can convince him to get it cut or convince me to let him keep it long! (Click on "comments" link below.)
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Pics of Cailey Rae
My neice, Cailey, Candace's daughter.
Here she is smiling at J.C.
Snoozing with daddy, Jody.
Taking a nap. Candace is a frog freak, can you tell?
Here she is smiling at J.C.
Snoozing with daddy, Jody.
Taking a nap. Candace is a frog freak, can you tell?
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
John's Marching Band Performance and a Labyrinth of Digressions
Check it out, not the performance from yesterday, but one of their performances of the same routine: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-ncc4kZ55g - 8 minutes. Dan's little brother John is in there somewhere. He plays trumpet.
We spent the day yesterday in San Antonio at the Alamodome. Why, you ask? To watch John's band perform at the UIL State Championship. It was cool. I wish we could have gotten there earlier to see more, but it would not have been wise. We have four kids, two of them toddlers. Need I say more? Well, if you want or need audio substantiation behind this and many other choices we make in similar situations, I've loaded up the only "picture" I got from the trip. And, yep, that's me laughing myself into tears, literally. It really is true, not a stereotype at all, that insane people laugh a lot, You know, they're coming to take ma away, ha ha, ho ho, hee hee, to the funny farm where life is beautiful, et cetera, et cetera - What is that from, by the way? As usual, I digress. But, seriously, try listening to that full blast for 3 hours and see if you don't go just a tiny bit insane. You can't tune it out. Dan wants to get me an iPod, says it would be worth the investment, but I am skeptical. I can hear it from every room in the house. They can probably hear it next door! Dallas and Noah did none of this when they were small. They were such fine little gentlemen (at least that's how I remember it, but my memory can be a little fuzzy because I also said I would never get pregnant again after Noah because pregnancy was so uncomfortable! Never say never - I really stop myself now before I say never and end up having to change the phrase to hardly ever). This "fuzzy memory" is why I thought it would a good idea to have another, and then Savanna waited until right after Bailey was born to start the screaming. Hmmm. Is there a correlation there? Well, she taught Bailey very well, so now they double team me. She gets that from me. The teaching part. Not the screaming! The first time you hear it, you jump, because the frequency reaches a tiny little section in your brain that is reserved for those special irritants that get your attention immediately, like fingernails on a chalkboard, that "this is a test of the emergency broadcast system...", Dan's favorite: teeth scraping against your fork, bloodcurdling screams - wait - that's what they do! And it really feels like they are poking my brain! God was so wise to give them to us when they are so small and helpless so we can fall in love with them with that forever kind of love or else, well... or else! I can't say why else because I just can't imagine why anyone would hurt children, no matter what they do. That's what the laughter is for! I am possibly one of the most tightly wound people I know. I am almost always like a stack of books that is really high, and it can only hold maybe one or two books. You're not sure though if it's one or two, heck, maybe you've got comic books and can fit ten or so. I should be so lucky. With me, they usually pile on a dictionary! So if I can endure this on an almost daily basis, then anyone can. I can teach you: laugh! It really does help. It drives them crazy though. They don't understand what is so funny. Oh, right, I continue to digress. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. John's band was awesome, man! The kids liked it, too, which was a plus. Hey, you notice the good times and enjoy them so much more when you suffer sometimes (or lots of times!). Which reminds me, I got a CD from http://www.saintjoe.com/ called "15 Things to Do in the Midst of Suffering" by Jeff Cavins. I haven't listened to it yet, but I wonder if it mentions that. Jeff Cavins' "Great Adventure" DVDs are great also, that's what I went there to get. I saw it in RCIA, but it is so much information so fast, I want to listen to it a few more times, and have Dan listen with me, too. It's a Bible timeline history power packed on 4 DVDs. Great if you appreciate seeing "the big picture."
I have suffered from depression for most of my life, but when I have thoughts of suicide, I pray, actually I have conversations with God and Jesus and it always starts like this: (PAUSE - I don't get to this til the end of the post, I digress many more times, so you might want to just stop here and come back later when we post some family stuff! The following is just some personal journaling I did for me, really, and for others who suffer from depression or know someone who does). Of course, first I am crying. Not just crying. Bad crying. A good cry - yes, crying can be good. In a good cry, your lips tremble first because you are trying not to cry, and then the tears start welling up until finally one falls. You can't count it as a good cry unless you let the tears fall. Otherwise, you are stifling your emotions, which is not good. Stifling too many good cries can turn into a bad cry, the kind of cry you have and think "where did this come from?" In a good cry, sometimes you sob a little, sometimes you don't. A good cry isn't necessarily about anything at all but a compilation of things that you just need to let go. Like when you cry because you dropped the flour all over the floor. It's not about the flour or your clumsiness. And a good cry alleviates pain, never causes pain. You feel better afterwards, not like you are just stopping crying because you don't have any more energy left or because you have to go fix dinner, thus the stifling. When you are this deep into depression you don't just cry. Your body heaves. You have trouble breathing because the sobs are so heavy. You hurt in a place that is not anatomical or else people would be getting that body part removed all over the place, and it is the worst pain you have ever felt. I have had a kidney stone, countless migraines, broken feet, been in many car accidents, and gone through four natural childbirths, yep that's right, no painkillers or anesthetics, just an Enya tape, Dan's hand, and lots of breathing. I'm one of those people more afraid of the big needle in my spine than of a little pain, and if there is a drug-free way to cure something, that's my first choice. Just say No! So of all those painful things I've experienced, depression is the most painful. It hurts your heart. The first time I heard that phrase was from the mouth of a babe. From Dan's brother, John, the same John in the video above, when he was three. Someone did something that hurt his feelings and he said "You hurt my heart." His phrase. Children are the most clever of humans. A child of three knows where his feelings come from without ever going to medical school! When you are depressed, you hurt in your heart. The dictionary says "pain and ache usually refer to physical sensations (except heartache); agony and anguish may be physical or mental," but that is not true. Whoever wrote that has never suffered from depression. It does hurt, very badly. And just like when people who are in great pain wish for death, so do the depressed. The pain fuzzes your brain so much that either you can't remember when you last felt good or you view those memories through skewed lenses, the opposite of rose-colored glasses. Sometimes you dismiss the thoughts of suicide because you realize how much you would be hurting the people that love you. Or if you are feeling like no one loves you, you do not want to make a mess on their floor or worse not die but leave them a vegetable they have to take care of and hate you even more. So I couldn't have met Jesus at a better time in my life because I certainly would not be alive right now and neither would Dallas & Noah & Savanna & Bailey. From one soul to four. I was just reading about rats because we watched the Ratatouille DVD last night, great movie, and one article was about breeding rats. The person writing it said that you should only breed rats to to help better the species, so you don't want to breed rats with defects. Huh? If that's the case, then I shouldn't have had children at all. All the way to age 18 (when I fell in love for the first time), that was my choice. I hardly dated at all, didn't even kiss a boy until I was 17, and the only reason that happened was because this boy was seriously flirting with me. Unbeknownst to me, he flirted with everyone! I mentioned in passing I had never been kissed (ah, the allure of a conquest), and then he became quiet suave and said all the right things, particularly, he greeted me always with, "Hey, gorgeous" with a devilish grin that sold it, even to me who hardly ever ever believed compliments, rare as they were, but always believed disparagement. A boy I had a huge crush on in junior high used to call me flat chested. He also commented frequently about my huge honker. It was torture. Even though I was almost always first chair, which is supposed to be represented by the seating arrangements in an orchestra, I was forced to sit in between him and another kid who was not mean. The object of my affection was usually second and Mark was third. Mark and the meanie (as he will thus forth be known as to protect his identity; he eventually quit orchestra, ending my crush - out of sight, out of mind, out of heart - so not many people will be able to figure out who he is. Like most childhood meanies do, he grew out of it and stopped doing it after junior high.), they were buddies, and geniuses at cutting up. So how does she fix this? By punishing me, making me sit second chair between them. This did not stop them from cutting up. Like I said, they were geniuses, I always fell for the smart ones. Not the lookers that everybody loved. That's too easy. I like challenges. I liked him before he was mean to me, but I didn't stop liking him when started calling me names. For the most part, they stopped cutting up when she was conducting or lecturing but as is the nature of first year orchestra, she was often going over to the violins to give some one on one instruction. They needed it most - oy!. Add to the head splitting noises list: novice violin playing. I originally chose violin but scratched that the first time I played it. It hurt my brain! So it was between cello and viola all the way up to the night we bought my instrument. I would have chosen viola because it was cheaper; I was afraid we couldn't afford the cello. So I told my parents I could not decide, and my dad said he liked the cello which was cool because so did I. Anyway, when she was helping them, the meanie would say things like my nose was in the way, I was as flat as Kansas, etc. ha ha. He thought he was soooo funny. So I would move my fat nose so he could chat with his buddy. It was torture. Pure torture and so unfair. I mean what was the point in even trying out for 1st chair when the only time I got to sit there was at concerts - he got to sit there, the meanie. The injustice. I mean, really, I'd rather have my nose than his, but I never made fun of him. Love is blind.
Now, these things never came up when I was listing all the horrible things about myself when I was depressed. Lucky for me, I don't care what I look like, although I do prefer to be well kempt. I never cared about looks, or else I never would have kissed that boy. He was very skinny, sort of dopey looking actually. He was a kikker which I was not into at the time (this is what you called them fellas that wore cowboy boots and tight jeans and listened to country music, from KIKK, which I believe is no longer a country radio station), and he smoked. So my first kiss was against a pool table in his garage, country music in the background and tasted of carrots and smoke. It was nasty and delicious at the same time, a lovely paradox. Why carrots? He ate carrots because he thought this would get rid of the smoky taste. That doesn't work by the way, in case you are looking for tips on hiding smoke smell. Nothing works, not even brushing your teeth and eating breath mints or chewing gum. It's on your breath and your hair, and especially your fingertips. (Believe me, I know. I might write about it some other time as to why, but I smoked for a couple of years after my dad died). My parents smoked, and I hated it. Every time I opened my backpack, I was greeted by smoke wafting from my satchel. I tried for so long to get them to quit because I loved them and did not want them to die. I even wrote a research paper on the effects of smoking chock full of resources and even photos of blackened lungs; I worked very hard to be sure I would get an A on it, so I would have a reason to make them read it, because I love them. They got mad at me though. Who would have thunk it? That didn't stop me from trying. I didn't think it was a hopeless cause because after I became Christian, it irritated me immensely, like fingernails on a chalkboard, when they said "GD." To me, it was literally like someone was cursing my Father. You mess with my family, you mess with me. Every time they said it, I would simply say "Gosh Darn it!" I was offering them an alternative. This is exactly how I discipline my children, go figure. You do what works without hurting someone, even if they are hurting you. It took a few years, but they eventually stopped doing it. They just said dammit. Still cursing, but a compromise. I'm quite persistent when I want something. It's ironic what they listed as Dad's cause of death: nicotine addiction. It's like I knew. I think God was telling me because He knew how much I loved him, preparing me for what was to happen. My life is such a complex maze filled with twists and turns, and I sometimes keep ending up going down the same path over and over which is okay because I am smarter each time I go that way again and I see something new that I didn't notice before. It's like in RCIA when I was learning about the structure of the mass and the Bible. When you see the "big picture" you have one of those "aha" moments and the thing that was an enigma to you before is now this beautiful thing that you want to keep looking at because you just cannot believe how beautiful it is. Life is beautiful. It's a gift that you are not supposed to return, or you will hurt your giver's heart. Ultimately, this is what saves me from myself when I am suicidal. When my soul is aching, I think of Jesus on the cross (I had to stop just now to cry a little bit, a good cry).
When my soul is aching, I think of Jesus on the cross and of his suffering. He was human, like me. He suffered, like me. But it wasn't his bodily wounds that hurt him. It was his heart that ached. The Sacred Heart of Jesus. He loves all God's children with that forever kind of love, because you loved them from the beginning. The kind you can't get rid of even when your children are hurting you or screaming at the top of their lungs, pushing your "crazy" button. You forgive all those things because your Father forgives you. Study the Theology of the Body some time. http://www.theologyofthebody.net/ Even if you are not Catholic or Christian, it is fascinating. I missed most of the class on that because we had to go to the church to practice something for baptism. My curiosity was piqued, however. It's works like this that explain why Pope John Paul II was pope. I used to think it was sort of awful for the Catholic Church to be so ornate and that the money could be better spent on the poor and needy. But I think differently now. I believe the churches are so beautiful because they are a reflection of the beauty of love. The love God has for us, and the love that we give back to Him, as is spoken about in the Theology of the Body and is represented in the mass and the Trinity, the love that goes back and forth between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. (Although even the poorest of churches are also beautiful. My favorite church is still the one I went to in Reynosa with my friedn Anna on a missions trip with our church. It was beautiful because you could see God's love reflected in the people, all of them, and when you can see that in the midst of such poverty, it is one of the most beautiful things you will ever see). Oh, boy, I am digressing again. It's one digression after another. But digressions can be a beautiful thing, especially when you are reflecting.
Back to the no dating (I went the wrong way with that, again with the maze metaphor), part of that was because the boys weren't asking but mostly it was because what's the point? I was thinking scientifically, like the rat lady. The point of dating is to find a mate and propagate the species, and I was not planning on propagating. Logically, with my genes, it would not be wise. My favorite class in high school was anatomy. Partly because Mr. Dennison was super cool and mostly because I was amazed by the human body and wanted to figure out what makes it work. My favorite class in college was microbiology (when I was a nursing major, my second favorite was Library Science, ha ha, also science but it was a Children's Literature course). Most people feared microbiology class, it was legend at TWU because it was hard to pass, but for me, it was a breeze because I was so fascinated. I wanted to know all these little bugs that I couldn't see but knew were there. Knowledge really is power and getting to know about something you are afraid of helps you fear it less. I was a self-proclaimed germophobe, I cringed at the sight of door knobs. This first began when we studied pond water in 6th grade life science, or was it 7th grade? Anyhow, before this I was completely unaware of an entire race of beings that were everywhere but we couldn't see. I once revelled swimming in Lake Livingston, but after this, I never did it again. Once I touched a door knob, I could feel the bugs crawling on my hands until I washed them off. Hand sanitizer was invented for freaks like me! I settled down quite a bit after microbiology, but what really cured me was having a baby. You'd think the opposite and that I would get more narcotic - ha ha. Freudian slip? nah! - I meant neurotic! It took me a few seconds to find the word but I kept saying narcotic - it was making me neurotic!!! Babies are so dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty. But they are also so cute. Cute, cute, cute. And how can I look at something so cute and imagine him covered in all those nasty little bugs? I would go insane, well, more insane. So I gave up. I still wash my hands after every diaper change (Hand sanitizer does not cut it. I can still feel the bugs, they just smell better!), but that's not crazy, that's good sense! But spit up's okay. Not vomit, but spit up is different than vomit, similar to the 3 second rule. The more time it's in there, the more yuck factor.
Well if you've made it this far into this post, then you must really care about knowing me, and I will share with you one of my most private moments that I don't normally share. I am not looking for sympathy, but empathy rather, and to help others who are sad. Misery does not love company, but it helps. I have realized that the more people I tell about depression, the less power it has over me. Plus, it helps to have people who can notice you are getting sad; they often do before I do. Sometimes the downward spiral is gradual, like when I was pregnant with Bailey. Sometimes it is sudden, like after my dad died. There was a time not too long ago when I could not speak 3 words on the subject of my sadness without bursting into tears. It was taboo. People ask, "how are you?" all the time, but we are all trained to say "fine." I usually ponder the question for a bit before I answer while I carefully decide if this is a person I tell the truth or just say"fine" to save them the agony of having to listen to my answer to a question they really didn't want to know the answer to. I am even more careful now that a loaded question like that got me into a lot of trouble and turned my world upside down, twice in fact. Both times, however, the consequences ended up being worth the trouble. Something very bad happened, but then something very wonderful followed, both because of the incidents. I can't wish it didn't happen. So you may want to stop playing with me because I am broken, but I hope that you won't. I suffered alone for so many years, hiding my feelings from most everyone. You do it because you are afraid no one will love you or those that do love you will stop because you are broken, like the toy a kid loves and plays with until it breaks and gets thrown in the trash. I, however, was devastated when my mom threw away my cookie monster because she kept having to sew him back together. Could be why I have clutter issues; I have trouble throwing things away. Could also be why I always root for the underdog, even when they are not so nice, like Tom, Wile E. Coyote (I didn't want them to actually eat Jerry or the Roadrunner; I just wanted them to get to taste victory), or when they are persecuted like Jesus and like the American Indians and the Jews when I would read history stories. Empathizing would leave me in tears. When you suffer alone, you suffer twofold because you do not allow anyone to help you. No one can help you if they do not know. But you will always fear that telling people will make them go away because they do not understand. Some people, as in the case of my first real boyfriend, freak out because you are crying because they just don't know how to deal with you when you are that way. He thought I was crying because of something he did because it was just too odd a concept for him that I did not know why I was crying. His way to get me to stop crying was to cover my face so I couldn't breathe or eventually to hit me (just once). Well, yeah, that works (I never cried in front of him again after he hit me), but it's not the best way to help someone who's depressed. If someone you know is crying a lot for no reason or even for good reasons but a lot, then they might be depressed. What would be better is to find someone who is experienced with depression and ask for help dealing with this person. Then, if you care about this person and want to keep them in your life, read a little bit about depression. It's not that complicated really. Just imagine a time when you felt really sad about something, like maybe when you found out someone you really loved died. Imagine feeling like that all the time with varying levels of sadness, but it just won't go away, no matter what you or anyone else does. I have even been told I like to be sad. What? Who likes to be sad? Yes, sometimes I feel more comfortable being sad, and it is a little tricky coming out of a depression because you feel comfortable with the sadness. Not feeling sad is new, and you have to start learning to act and react differently to things. If you can relate to what I am saying here or know someone who has depression, then you are not alone. You are never alone. Even when you are in the deepest darkest hole, so deep that you cannot see the light anymore, you are not alone. Jesus is right there in your heart, even if you don't know Him or believe in Him. He is the lamp unto your feet, the Light of the World. Go to church, any church that you feel comfortable with, and ask for help. Even if you are not Christian and have no plans on becoming so, you will find help. I used to think that the mass was boring, that people were just chanting those prayers from memory and not really feeling and that if we all pray the same, we must be boring God to tears. It may be that way for some, but it's good to memorize prayers and pray them together. God loves it, He loves the other way, too, and I believe it is part of his plan for us. When you are most desperate and delirious with sadness, it's hard to make words, complete thoughts and sentences. But prayers, just like the ABC song, can become glued to your brain and not escape your mind when most other words do. When you have prayers that you learned when you were young deep down in your heart and mind that you learned when you were most impressionable, these prayers are part of who you are. This is what I hope for my children. Even if they end up in a different religion or no religion, which is highly unlikely but their choice to make, they will have the strongest foundation that I helped lay for them. And who doesn't enjoy or feel a sense of pride when they look at something they helped build, no matter how tiny your part was in the process; even better when others are in awe of your creation. Mom, Dad, look what I did! These prayers are weapons and shields against the demons in your life, whatever they might be. Pray the rosary daily, and it will heal your heart. The sorrowful mysteries are the salve for the depressed. I did not know about the rosary when I had these conversations with God, but I was meditating on the sorrowful mysteries. If Jesus could suffer such grief for His children, so can I. EWTN shows The Holy Land Rosary every day. I have a little booklet called "The Seven Day Bible Rosary" that I got from http://www.presentationministries.com/ (they have lots of little publications you can get for free, well nothing is really free, it is run on donations.) It has all the prayers and a good explaination of how to pray the rosary. So depression makes you want to die, but you really don't want to die. The sickness makes you think you want to die. And you know yourself better than anyone, so you can be pretty good at convincing yourself. When I have a migraine, I beg Dan, seriously, to chop my head off. He never does, though. Immense pain makes you want to die. My first suicide attempt was when I was 12. I became Christian when I was 13, just in time. Here is what God and I talked about, between the gut wrenching sobs. It's amazing my parents never heard me:
Why?
Why can't I die?
It's not fair when there are so many people who want to live.
Why can't you take me and let them live?
It's so unfair.
Please, please, please take me.
I want to be with you so badly.
I love you so much.
If you loved me, you'd take me.
Please, please kill me.
They would all be so much better off without me.
Nobody loves me, I'm a waste of space.
Please take me.
I want to be with Jesus and You.
Please help me.
Make it stop.
Please, make it stop, make it stop.
It hurts so bad, I can't do it anymore.
I'm stupid, and will never be good at anything.
I'm not worth it.
Why?
Why do You love me?
I'm so mad at You for loving me.
I could be free if it wasn't for You.
Why, God, why?
Please, please, please take me.
There is no such thing as an unanswered prayer. God answers all prayers if you listen to him.
We spent the day yesterday in San Antonio at the Alamodome. Why, you ask? To watch John's band perform at the UIL State Championship. It was cool. I wish we could have gotten there earlier to see more, but it would not have been wise. We have four kids, two of them toddlers. Need I say more? Well, if you want or need audio substantiation behind this and many other choices we make in similar situations, I've loaded up the only "picture" I got from the trip. And, yep, that's me laughing myself into tears, literally. It really is true, not a stereotype at all, that insane people laugh a lot, You know, they're coming to take ma away, ha ha, ho ho, hee hee, to the funny farm where life is beautiful, et cetera, et cetera - What is that from, by the way? As usual, I digress. But, seriously, try listening to that full blast for 3 hours and see if you don't go just a tiny bit insane. You can't tune it out. Dan wants to get me an iPod, says it would be worth the investment, but I am skeptical. I can hear it from every room in the house. They can probably hear it next door! Dallas and Noah did none of this when they were small. They were such fine little gentlemen (at least that's how I remember it, but my memory can be a little fuzzy because I also said I would never get pregnant again after Noah because pregnancy was so uncomfortable! Never say never - I really stop myself now before I say never and end up having to change the phrase to hardly ever). This "fuzzy memory" is why I thought it would a good idea to have another, and then Savanna waited until right after Bailey was born to start the screaming. Hmmm. Is there a correlation there? Well, she taught Bailey very well, so now they double team me. She gets that from me. The teaching part. Not the screaming! The first time you hear it, you jump, because the frequency reaches a tiny little section in your brain that is reserved for those special irritants that get your attention immediately, like fingernails on a chalkboard, that "this is a test of the emergency broadcast system...", Dan's favorite: teeth scraping against your fork, bloodcurdling screams - wait - that's what they do! And it really feels like they are poking my brain! God was so wise to give them to us when they are so small and helpless so we can fall in love with them with that forever kind of love or else, well... or else! I can't say why else because I just can't imagine why anyone would hurt children, no matter what they do. That's what the laughter is for! I am possibly one of the most tightly wound people I know. I am almost always like a stack of books that is really high, and it can only hold maybe one or two books. You're not sure though if it's one or two, heck, maybe you've got comic books and can fit ten or so. I should be so lucky. With me, they usually pile on a dictionary! So if I can endure this on an almost daily basis, then anyone can. I can teach you: laugh! It really does help. It drives them crazy though. They don't understand what is so funny. Oh, right, I continue to digress. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. John's band was awesome, man! The kids liked it, too, which was a plus. Hey, you notice the good times and enjoy them so much more when you suffer sometimes (or lots of times!). Which reminds me, I got a CD from http://www.saintjoe.com/ called "15 Things to Do in the Midst of Suffering" by Jeff Cavins. I haven't listened to it yet, but I wonder if it mentions that. Jeff Cavins' "Great Adventure" DVDs are great also, that's what I went there to get. I saw it in RCIA, but it is so much information so fast, I want to listen to it a few more times, and have Dan listen with me, too. It's a Bible timeline history power packed on 4 DVDs. Great if you appreciate seeing "the big picture."
I have suffered from depression for most of my life, but when I have thoughts of suicide, I pray, actually I have conversations with God and Jesus and it always starts like this: (PAUSE - I don't get to this til the end of the post, I digress many more times, so you might want to just stop here and come back later when we post some family stuff! The following is just some personal journaling I did for me, really, and for others who suffer from depression or know someone who does). Of course, first I am crying. Not just crying. Bad crying. A good cry - yes, crying can be good. In a good cry, your lips tremble first because you are trying not to cry, and then the tears start welling up until finally one falls. You can't count it as a good cry unless you let the tears fall. Otherwise, you are stifling your emotions, which is not good. Stifling too many good cries can turn into a bad cry, the kind of cry you have and think "where did this come from?" In a good cry, sometimes you sob a little, sometimes you don't. A good cry isn't necessarily about anything at all but a compilation of things that you just need to let go. Like when you cry because you dropped the flour all over the floor. It's not about the flour or your clumsiness. And a good cry alleviates pain, never causes pain. You feel better afterwards, not like you are just stopping crying because you don't have any more energy left or because you have to go fix dinner, thus the stifling. When you are this deep into depression you don't just cry. Your body heaves. You have trouble breathing because the sobs are so heavy. You hurt in a place that is not anatomical or else people would be getting that body part removed all over the place, and it is the worst pain you have ever felt. I have had a kidney stone, countless migraines, broken feet, been in many car accidents, and gone through four natural childbirths, yep that's right, no painkillers or anesthetics, just an Enya tape, Dan's hand, and lots of breathing. I'm one of those people more afraid of the big needle in my spine than of a little pain, and if there is a drug-free way to cure something, that's my first choice. Just say No! So of all those painful things I've experienced, depression is the most painful. It hurts your heart. The first time I heard that phrase was from the mouth of a babe. From Dan's brother, John, the same John in the video above, when he was three. Someone did something that hurt his feelings and he said "You hurt my heart." His phrase. Children are the most clever of humans. A child of three knows where his feelings come from without ever going to medical school! When you are depressed, you hurt in your heart. The dictionary says "pain and ache usually refer to physical sensations (except heartache); agony and anguish may be physical or mental," but that is not true. Whoever wrote that has never suffered from depression. It does hurt, very badly. And just like when people who are in great pain wish for death, so do the depressed. The pain fuzzes your brain so much that either you can't remember when you last felt good or you view those memories through skewed lenses, the opposite of rose-colored glasses. Sometimes you dismiss the thoughts of suicide because you realize how much you would be hurting the people that love you. Or if you are feeling like no one loves you, you do not want to make a mess on their floor or worse not die but leave them a vegetable they have to take care of and hate you even more. So I couldn't have met Jesus at a better time in my life because I certainly would not be alive right now and neither would Dallas & Noah & Savanna & Bailey. From one soul to four. I was just reading about rats because we watched the Ratatouille DVD last night, great movie, and one article was about breeding rats. The person writing it said that you should only breed rats to to help better the species, so you don't want to breed rats with defects. Huh? If that's the case, then I shouldn't have had children at all. All the way to age 18 (when I fell in love for the first time), that was my choice. I hardly dated at all, didn't even kiss a boy until I was 17, and the only reason that happened was because this boy was seriously flirting with me. Unbeknownst to me, he flirted with everyone! I mentioned in passing I had never been kissed (ah, the allure of a conquest), and then he became quiet suave and said all the right things, particularly, he greeted me always with, "Hey, gorgeous" with a devilish grin that sold it, even to me who hardly ever ever believed compliments, rare as they were, but always believed disparagement. A boy I had a huge crush on in junior high used to call me flat chested. He also commented frequently about my huge honker. It was torture. Even though I was almost always first chair, which is supposed to be represented by the seating arrangements in an orchestra, I was forced to sit in between him and another kid who was not mean. The object of my affection was usually second and Mark was third. Mark and the meanie (as he will thus forth be known as to protect his identity; he eventually quit orchestra, ending my crush - out of sight, out of mind, out of heart - so not many people will be able to figure out who he is. Like most childhood meanies do, he grew out of it and stopped doing it after junior high.), they were buddies, and geniuses at cutting up. So how does she fix this? By punishing me, making me sit second chair between them. This did not stop them from cutting up. Like I said, they were geniuses, I always fell for the smart ones. Not the lookers that everybody loved. That's too easy. I like challenges. I liked him before he was mean to me, but I didn't stop liking him when started calling me names. For the most part, they stopped cutting up when she was conducting or lecturing but as is the nature of first year orchestra, she was often going over to the violins to give some one on one instruction. They needed it most - oy!. Add to the head splitting noises list: novice violin playing. I originally chose violin but scratched that the first time I played it. It hurt my brain! So it was between cello and viola all the way up to the night we bought my instrument. I would have chosen viola because it was cheaper; I was afraid we couldn't afford the cello. So I told my parents I could not decide, and my dad said he liked the cello which was cool because so did I. Anyway, when she was helping them, the meanie would say things like my nose was in the way, I was as flat as Kansas, etc. ha ha. He thought he was soooo funny. So I would move my fat nose so he could chat with his buddy. It was torture. Pure torture and so unfair. I mean what was the point in even trying out for 1st chair when the only time I got to sit there was at concerts - he got to sit there, the meanie. The injustice. I mean, really, I'd rather have my nose than his, but I never made fun of him. Love is blind.
Now, these things never came up when I was listing all the horrible things about myself when I was depressed. Lucky for me, I don't care what I look like, although I do prefer to be well kempt. I never cared about looks, or else I never would have kissed that boy. He was very skinny, sort of dopey looking actually. He was a kikker which I was not into at the time (this is what you called them fellas that wore cowboy boots and tight jeans and listened to country music, from KIKK, which I believe is no longer a country radio station), and he smoked. So my first kiss was against a pool table in his garage, country music in the background and tasted of carrots and smoke. It was nasty and delicious at the same time, a lovely paradox. Why carrots? He ate carrots because he thought this would get rid of the smoky taste. That doesn't work by the way, in case you are looking for tips on hiding smoke smell. Nothing works, not even brushing your teeth and eating breath mints or chewing gum. It's on your breath and your hair, and especially your fingertips. (Believe me, I know. I might write about it some other time as to why, but I smoked for a couple of years after my dad died). My parents smoked, and I hated it. Every time I opened my backpack, I was greeted by smoke wafting from my satchel. I tried for so long to get them to quit because I loved them and did not want them to die. I even wrote a research paper on the effects of smoking chock full of resources and even photos of blackened lungs; I worked very hard to be sure I would get an A on it, so I would have a reason to make them read it, because I love them. They got mad at me though. Who would have thunk it? That didn't stop me from trying. I didn't think it was a hopeless cause because after I became Christian, it irritated me immensely, like fingernails on a chalkboard, when they said "GD." To me, it was literally like someone was cursing my Father. You mess with my family, you mess with me. Every time they said it, I would simply say "Gosh Darn it!" I was offering them an alternative. This is exactly how I discipline my children, go figure. You do what works without hurting someone, even if they are hurting you. It took a few years, but they eventually stopped doing it. They just said dammit. Still cursing, but a compromise. I'm quite persistent when I want something. It's ironic what they listed as Dad's cause of death: nicotine addiction. It's like I knew. I think God was telling me because He knew how much I loved him, preparing me for what was to happen. My life is such a complex maze filled with twists and turns, and I sometimes keep ending up going down the same path over and over which is okay because I am smarter each time I go that way again and I see something new that I didn't notice before. It's like in RCIA when I was learning about the structure of the mass and the Bible. When you see the "big picture" you have one of those "aha" moments and the thing that was an enigma to you before is now this beautiful thing that you want to keep looking at because you just cannot believe how beautiful it is. Life is beautiful. It's a gift that you are not supposed to return, or you will hurt your giver's heart. Ultimately, this is what saves me from myself when I am suicidal. When my soul is aching, I think of Jesus on the cross (I had to stop just now to cry a little bit, a good cry).
When my soul is aching, I think of Jesus on the cross and of his suffering. He was human, like me. He suffered, like me. But it wasn't his bodily wounds that hurt him. It was his heart that ached. The Sacred Heart of Jesus. He loves all God's children with that forever kind of love, because you loved them from the beginning. The kind you can't get rid of even when your children are hurting you or screaming at the top of their lungs, pushing your "crazy" button. You forgive all those things because your Father forgives you. Study the Theology of the Body some time. http://www.theologyofthebody.net/ Even if you are not Catholic or Christian, it is fascinating. I missed most of the class on that because we had to go to the church to practice something for baptism. My curiosity was piqued, however. It's works like this that explain why Pope John Paul II was pope. I used to think it was sort of awful for the Catholic Church to be so ornate and that the money could be better spent on the poor and needy. But I think differently now. I believe the churches are so beautiful because they are a reflection of the beauty of love. The love God has for us, and the love that we give back to Him, as is spoken about in the Theology of the Body and is represented in the mass and the Trinity, the love that goes back and forth between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. (Although even the poorest of churches are also beautiful. My favorite church is still the one I went to in Reynosa with my friedn Anna on a missions trip with our church. It was beautiful because you could see God's love reflected in the people, all of them, and when you can see that in the midst of such poverty, it is one of the most beautiful things you will ever see). Oh, boy, I am digressing again. It's one digression after another. But digressions can be a beautiful thing, especially when you are reflecting.
Back to the no dating (I went the wrong way with that, again with the maze metaphor), part of that was because the boys weren't asking but mostly it was because what's the point? I was thinking scientifically, like the rat lady. The point of dating is to find a mate and propagate the species, and I was not planning on propagating. Logically, with my genes, it would not be wise. My favorite class in high school was anatomy. Partly because Mr. Dennison was super cool and mostly because I was amazed by the human body and wanted to figure out what makes it work. My favorite class in college was microbiology (when I was a nursing major, my second favorite was Library Science, ha ha, also science but it was a Children's Literature course). Most people feared microbiology class, it was legend at TWU because it was hard to pass, but for me, it was a breeze because I was so fascinated. I wanted to know all these little bugs that I couldn't see but knew were there. Knowledge really is power and getting to know about something you are afraid of helps you fear it less. I was a self-proclaimed germophobe, I cringed at the sight of door knobs. This first began when we studied pond water in 6th grade life science, or was it 7th grade? Anyhow, before this I was completely unaware of an entire race of beings that were everywhere but we couldn't see. I once revelled swimming in Lake Livingston, but after this, I never did it again. Once I touched a door knob, I could feel the bugs crawling on my hands until I washed them off. Hand sanitizer was invented for freaks like me! I settled down quite a bit after microbiology, but what really cured me was having a baby. You'd think the opposite and that I would get more narcotic - ha ha. Freudian slip? nah! - I meant neurotic! It took me a few seconds to find the word but I kept saying narcotic - it was making me neurotic!!! Babies are so dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty. But they are also so cute. Cute, cute, cute. And how can I look at something so cute and imagine him covered in all those nasty little bugs? I would go insane, well, more insane. So I gave up. I still wash my hands after every diaper change (Hand sanitizer does not cut it. I can still feel the bugs, they just smell better!), but that's not crazy, that's good sense! But spit up's okay. Not vomit, but spit up is different than vomit, similar to the 3 second rule. The more time it's in there, the more yuck factor.
Well if you've made it this far into this post, then you must really care about knowing me, and I will share with you one of my most private moments that I don't normally share. I am not looking for sympathy, but empathy rather, and to help others who are sad. Misery does not love company, but it helps. I have realized that the more people I tell about depression, the less power it has over me. Plus, it helps to have people who can notice you are getting sad; they often do before I do. Sometimes the downward spiral is gradual, like when I was pregnant with Bailey. Sometimes it is sudden, like after my dad died. There was a time not too long ago when I could not speak 3 words on the subject of my sadness without bursting into tears. It was taboo. People ask, "how are you?" all the time, but we are all trained to say "fine." I usually ponder the question for a bit before I answer while I carefully decide if this is a person I tell the truth or just say"fine" to save them the agony of having to listen to my answer to a question they really didn't want to know the answer to. I am even more careful now that a loaded question like that got me into a lot of trouble and turned my world upside down, twice in fact. Both times, however, the consequences ended up being worth the trouble. Something very bad happened, but then something very wonderful followed, both because of the incidents. I can't wish it didn't happen. So you may want to stop playing with me because I am broken, but I hope that you won't. I suffered alone for so many years, hiding my feelings from most everyone. You do it because you are afraid no one will love you or those that do love you will stop because you are broken, like the toy a kid loves and plays with until it breaks and gets thrown in the trash. I, however, was devastated when my mom threw away my cookie monster because she kept having to sew him back together. Could be why I have clutter issues; I have trouble throwing things away. Could also be why I always root for the underdog, even when they are not so nice, like Tom, Wile E. Coyote (I didn't want them to actually eat Jerry or the Roadrunner; I just wanted them to get to taste victory), or when they are persecuted like Jesus and like the American Indians and the Jews when I would read history stories. Empathizing would leave me in tears. When you suffer alone, you suffer twofold because you do not allow anyone to help you. No one can help you if they do not know. But you will always fear that telling people will make them go away because they do not understand. Some people, as in the case of my first real boyfriend, freak out because you are crying because they just don't know how to deal with you when you are that way. He thought I was crying because of something he did because it was just too odd a concept for him that I did not know why I was crying. His way to get me to stop crying was to cover my face so I couldn't breathe or eventually to hit me (just once). Well, yeah, that works (I never cried in front of him again after he hit me), but it's not the best way to help someone who's depressed. If someone you know is crying a lot for no reason or even for good reasons but a lot, then they might be depressed. What would be better is to find someone who is experienced with depression and ask for help dealing with this person. Then, if you care about this person and want to keep them in your life, read a little bit about depression. It's not that complicated really. Just imagine a time when you felt really sad about something, like maybe when you found out someone you really loved died. Imagine feeling like that all the time with varying levels of sadness, but it just won't go away, no matter what you or anyone else does. I have even been told I like to be sad. What? Who likes to be sad? Yes, sometimes I feel more comfortable being sad, and it is a little tricky coming out of a depression because you feel comfortable with the sadness. Not feeling sad is new, and you have to start learning to act and react differently to things. If you can relate to what I am saying here or know someone who has depression, then you are not alone. You are never alone. Even when you are in the deepest darkest hole, so deep that you cannot see the light anymore, you are not alone. Jesus is right there in your heart, even if you don't know Him or believe in Him. He is the lamp unto your feet, the Light of the World. Go to church, any church that you feel comfortable with, and ask for help. Even if you are not Christian and have no plans on becoming so, you will find help. I used to think that the mass was boring, that people were just chanting those prayers from memory and not really feeling and that if we all pray the same, we must be boring God to tears. It may be that way for some, but it's good to memorize prayers and pray them together. God loves it, He loves the other way, too, and I believe it is part of his plan for us. When you are most desperate and delirious with sadness, it's hard to make words, complete thoughts and sentences. But prayers, just like the ABC song, can become glued to your brain and not escape your mind when most other words do. When you have prayers that you learned when you were young deep down in your heart and mind that you learned when you were most impressionable, these prayers are part of who you are. This is what I hope for my children. Even if they end up in a different religion or no religion, which is highly unlikely but their choice to make, they will have the strongest foundation that I helped lay for them. And who doesn't enjoy or feel a sense of pride when they look at something they helped build, no matter how tiny your part was in the process; even better when others are in awe of your creation. Mom, Dad, look what I did! These prayers are weapons and shields against the demons in your life, whatever they might be. Pray the rosary daily, and it will heal your heart. The sorrowful mysteries are the salve for the depressed. I did not know about the rosary when I had these conversations with God, but I was meditating on the sorrowful mysteries. If Jesus could suffer such grief for His children, so can I. EWTN shows The Holy Land Rosary every day. I have a little booklet called "The Seven Day Bible Rosary" that I got from http://www.presentationministries.com/ (they have lots of little publications you can get for free, well nothing is really free, it is run on donations.) It has all the prayers and a good explaination of how to pray the rosary. So depression makes you want to die, but you really don't want to die. The sickness makes you think you want to die. And you know yourself better than anyone, so you can be pretty good at convincing yourself. When I have a migraine, I beg Dan, seriously, to chop my head off. He never does, though. Immense pain makes you want to die. My first suicide attempt was when I was 12. I became Christian when I was 13, just in time. Here is what God and I talked about, between the gut wrenching sobs. It's amazing my parents never heard me:
Why?
Why can't I die?
It's not fair when there are so many people who want to live.
Why can't you take me and let them live?
It's so unfair.
Please, please, please take me.
I want to be with you so badly.
I love you so much.
If you loved me, you'd take me.
Please, please kill me.
They would all be so much better off without me.
Nobody loves me, I'm a waste of space.
Please take me.
I want to be with Jesus and You.
Please help me.
Make it stop.
Please, make it stop, make it stop.
It hurts so bad, I can't do it anymore.
I'm stupid, and will never be good at anything.
I'm not worth it.
Why?
Why do You love me?
I'm so mad at You for loving me.
I could be free if it wasn't for You.
Why, God, why?
Please, please, please take me.
There is no such thing as an unanswered prayer. God answers all prayers if you listen to him.
And the answer to the questions, why? I didn't know then, but He helped me through it. Sometimes you just need someone to talk to. Talk to God. He is a very good listener. Why does He love me? Just because I'm me. Why do you love your children? Same thing. You will love them whether they are flipping burgers at McDonald's or if they are the one that cures cancer. You will even love them if they are murderers or criminals, because you will never stop hoping they will change. Even the darkest heart can change. And every soul, no matter how flawed the vessel may be, is given the gift of life and deserves a chance to experience life and love.
These conversations would go on for hours, at night, alone in my room except when we had Twinkie. When she diappeared, I was devastated; my depression worsened because she made me feel better. She was a fickle cat, most are. Like Candace and my children, I loved her with that forever kind of love because I also held her when she was a baby. She sat at the foot of my bed, but when I cried, she gently stepped up to my face, licked my tears and then sat there until I finished, periodically rubbing my face with hers. She would let me hold her, pet her, she purred her shaky little purr. Many times it kept me from having a bad cry. Some might say that she just wanted to lick the salt off my face, but I know she was giving me kisses and hugs. She knew I was hurting and wanted to help me. I believe God gave her to me. I picked her because she was the runt; she had a crooked tail. She was the undercat!
I faught so hard with God because I believed that people who commit suicide go to Hell. I no longer believe this. I believe God saves children who are not able to choose Him and the mentally infirm because they also are not able to make healthy choices. God is a loving God and would not punish you for suffering from an illness. I did not fear Hell because I felt like I was already there. My fear was that I would not get to see Jesus. Jesus saves, He really does. Like the song that speaks my heart, "I'm waiting for a another time and another place", but not before it's my time. It's a beautiful song these words are from. It was on a tape an amazing woman made for me of inspirational songs; her name is Julie Hrachovy. Another in the line of souls God placed along my path to help guide my way through this complex maze of life. They have a 30 second clip of the song on Amazon.com, but you should really find a way to hear the whole thing.
These conversations would go on for hours, at night, alone in my room except when we had Twinkie. When she diappeared, I was devastated; my depression worsened because she made me feel better. She was a fickle cat, most are. Like Candace and my children, I loved her with that forever kind of love because I also held her when she was a baby. She sat at the foot of my bed, but when I cried, she gently stepped up to my face, licked my tears and then sat there until I finished, periodically rubbing my face with hers. She would let me hold her, pet her, she purred her shaky little purr. Many times it kept me from having a bad cry. Some might say that she just wanted to lick the salt off my face, but I know she was giving me kisses and hugs. She knew I was hurting and wanted to help me. I believe God gave her to me. I picked her because she was the runt; she had a crooked tail. She was the undercat!
I faught so hard with God because I believed that people who commit suicide go to Hell. I no longer believe this. I believe God saves children who are not able to choose Him and the mentally infirm because they also are not able to make healthy choices. God is a loving God and would not punish you for suffering from an illness. I did not fear Hell because I felt like I was already there. My fear was that I would not get to see Jesus. Jesus saves, He really does. Like the song that speaks my heart, "I'm waiting for a another time and another place", but not before it's my time. It's a beautiful song these words are from. It was on a tape an amazing woman made for me of inspirational songs; her name is Julie Hrachovy. Another in the line of souls God placed along my path to help guide my way through this complex maze of life. They have a 30 second clip of the song on Amazon.com, but you should really find a way to hear the whole thing.
I almost forgot the little clip of the kids in the car! Remember, there is no video, just audio. I couldn't see them either, but trust me, they were there! Here you go: clip 1 and clip 2, only 3 minutes each (ha ha: only), for you anyway, this went on the whole way home, for three hours. You may feel the urge to turn it off after the first few seconds, but come on, don't - you can do it! Clip 2 is not as daunting, but it is also not as good, in my opinion. But what do I know? I believe this was taken about halfway back home. This seems like a messy hodge podge when in fact, it was a carefully orchestrated literary masterpiece. HaHa, I'm kidding. I had no clue where I was going with this, but your mind is just like a filing cabinet and when you open a folder, there are index tabs and sticky notes all over the place, so while your studying one thing, you come across something else that demands your attention and then while you're doing that you notice the "also see ___" byline, so you put that folder down and go looking for the other one. But the first folder you see when you open that cabinet, which has nothing to do with your orininal query, grabs your attention, so you start reading that one. You're totally gripped by this subject until you remember that's not what you were there for, so you go back to the one on the floor but leave that one out, so you can finish it later. This is my writing process, but somehow, I manage to tie everything together most of the time. I love that. To come full circle, back to where this labyrinth began, John was the wise little 3 year old sage who put into the best words possible what it feels like to be sad. It "hurts your heart." He's seventeen now and at the same age I was when I suffered one of the deepest, darkest, depressions of my life. I literally faught for my life (with God) almost every night. I cannot imagine John being depressed. It would hurt my heart, and I would want to fix it. I just realized today is the anniversary of my daddy's death. I guess that's where all this is coming from. You can read these lyrics now to change your mood. It's a powerful song. It might make you cry. A good cry.
~~~~~
Another Time, Another Place
by Sandi Patti, duet with Wayne Watson
Album: Another Time, Another Place
~
I've always heard there is a land
Beyond the mortal dreams of man
Where every tear will be left behind
But it must be in another time
There'll be an everlasting light
Shining a purest holy white
And every fear will be erased
But it must be in another place
~
So, I'm waiting for another time and another place
Where all my hopes and dreams will be captured
With one look at Jesus' face
Oh, my heart's been burnin'
My soul keeps yearnin'
Sometimes I can't hardly wait
For that sweet, sweet someday
When I'll be swept away
To another time and another place
~
I've grown so tired of earthly things
They promise peace but furnish pain
All of life's sweetest joys combined
Could never match those in another time
And though I've put my trust in Christ
And felt His Spirit move in my life
I know it's truly just a taste
Of His glory in another place
~
So, I'm waiting for another time and another place
Where all my hopes and dreams will be captured
With one look at Jesus' face
Oh, my heart's been burnin'
My soul keeps yearnin'
Sometimes I can't hardly wait
For that sweet, sweet someday
When I'll be swept away
To another time and another place
~~~~~
... where there is no sadness...
Monday, October 22, 2007
Cub Scout Pack 345 Fall Family Campout 10/20/07
We had a blast at our new pack's Fall Family Campout this last weekend. It was at Potter's Creek Park on Canyon Lake which is sort of off a bit between San Marcus and New Braunfels. It was a beautiful weekend for camping. Spending time outdoors with nature was really good for the soul. I saw a shooting star! Well, actually a meteor, but I still like to think of them as shooting stars (more romantic that way). It was the first time I have ever seen one. Apparently, there was a meteor shower I didn't know about early Saturday morning. I saw it on my way back from a restroom break at 5:45am. If I'd known I would have gone out for a look-see - I had trouble sleeping anyway and woke up several times during the night when Savanna would wake up whining a little because she was unsure of where she was. In spite of the little sleep, we had a lot of fun Saturday. The boys went hiking, some went fishing, they earned the Texas badge, the Map & Compass belt loop, the Astronomy belt loop and some of the different dens worked on other things as well. The best part was the treasure hunt (to be explained better later in pictures).
But mainly it was just a nice relaxing campout. I even enjoyed cooking! We got a Coleman propane cooker which was a lot easier than trying to deal with making a fire. It was especially windy Saturday evening, so it came in really handy! We did have a couple of fires made which were great for roasting marshmallows and dutch oven cobblers! I ended up leaving late Saturday evening with the toddlers. I didn't think they (or I) could handle another night trying to sleep outdoors. That turned out to be a wise choice as it was so windy that evening, Dan had a hard time sleeping with all the flapping noises (we forgot the fly to our tent and had to rig a tarp with rope to cover the tent). Plus, since the ground was mostly rock, we couldn't tie the tent down very well; the wind was so hard, the side of the tent just pushed in and kept hitting Dan (he was sleeping on the side where the wind was blowing). He had to take a nap when he got home to refresh before he could watch the Cowboys game at 3. Savanna and Bailey fell asleep within minutes of my starting the trip back home! Toddlers can only take so much camping. Savanna did amazingly well, but Bailey will probably take another good year before he is up for roughing it more than one night. Enough talk - time for pictures!
Here's all our tents. We looked out onto the water that's pictured in the first photo up top. Our family tent is the one a little to the left of center with the blue tarp on top (our rigged fly), and Dallas & Noah's tent is the grey one to the right of center that is about to fall over! The path on the right there leads to...
the pavilion where we cooked and ate meals and gathered together as a pack.
Here's Bailey, Savanna, Dan & Dallas "copping a squat" after breakfast Saturday morning (me too, but I'm taking the pictures). Noah is off on an adventure somewhere with members of his den. There was only one other Webelos there, probably because they went to the Webelos Woods campout the weekend before. So this is Dallas & Dan's second week in a row of camping! Unfortunately, I forgot to send the camera with Dan, so I don't have any pictures from that weekend. I should get Dallas to post a blog about his adventures; Webelos and Boy Scout camping is more "high adventure" than cub scout camping.
Bailey and me
Savanna and me - these are the only photos of me. I handed Dan the camera for a sec. I'm always the picture taker!
Here's the toddlers running back with Dan after I took their picture in front of Canyon Lake. Bailey's running up to get me...
Bailey made it to Mama and grabbed hold! When I was showing him the pictures after I downloaded them, I asked him who was in this picture, and he said, "Mama!" because my hand was in the picture! Notice his scratched up face (he also got a scratched knee). Poor Bailey took a few tumbles. But he took 'em like a man! He has a prominent instep which unfortunately causes him to trip over his feet a lot. Dan says to fix it, he would have to have his feet broken (Noah has one, also - they get it from Dan who has one, too). One of the moms at the campout was telling me about a baby she saw at their daycare that had casts on his legs because he had the surgery to correct the insteps. She said it was so sad watching him try to get around, he was so upset. I don't know if I can do that to Noah or Bailey, but it is hard on them when they try to run. I will have to think long and hard about it...
Savanna and her friend, Desiree, just chillin'...
This is Noah's den leader and treasure hunt mastermind, Homer (in the camo' hat). He's just called all the boys over for the treasure hunt.
Here he is telling the group how to proceed.
Listening closely is Noah's den, Bear den 7, and Bear den 4 also:
The wolves:
The tigers:
Bear den 7 (Noah and Anthony were the only ones there) and Webelos Dallas & (sorry, I do not know the other kid's name, but I will insert it here when I find out!). They are learning how to read a compass and figure out compass headings for the Map & Compass belt loop.
Tiger den figuring out one of the clues that forms their "triangle."
And here they are running up to the next point of the triangle.
The wolves are on the left figuring out their "code." There's Dan on the right with the little ones while I'm running around catching the action.
Here's Bear den 7 off to another compass heading...
Here goes the Tigers - they figured out what the "tube of enlightenment" was - the final point on their triangle. They are off to find the "red tape" to confirm it and get their final clue.
Yeah, Tigers! The first to finish...
Here's the wolves, still deciphering their "secret code"
And here's Bear den 4 off to confirm they are headed to right compass heading...
Here's the Tigers working on their Texas Badge while waiting for the Wolves and Bears to finish finding their clues.
Eureka! Bear den 4 is running back after finding their final clue.
Bear den 7 is back to the start...
trying to figure out their final clue while everyone is waiting patiently =-)
Eureka! They are off to meet with the other dens to put together their clues and figure out the "key" that will unlock the treasure chest.
Putting together the clues...
Working together...
Aha! - the parents have figured it out and are having a blast watching the kids figure it out! Desiree and Gabriel are back there sitting on, um, guarding, the treasure chest!
Eureka! The "key" was P345 - which stands for Pack 345, and led them to the sign hanging at the Pavilion.
There, they find a master lock with a combination of one letter and 3 numbers - P345!
Unlocking the lock...
which opens the treasure chest (there's Savanna in the back running with all the kids - she senses the excitement and wants in on the action!)
What's the treasure???
Ice Cream!!!
Spreading the wealth:
Noah posing with his share of the loot:
Savanna offering Mama a bite:
Bailey offering Mama a bite (I got quite a few bites!) After all that excitement, it was surprisingly quiet as everyone partook in their bounty. A perfect finish!
Here's Greg, the Tiger leader, leading the Astronomy belt loop.
He's asking the boys questions about stars.
And here he is about to have the pavilion lights turned out along with all flashlights and take the boys out to look at the stars. He showed them the halo of light that was San Marcus to the right, new Braunfels to the left, and then behind us, Austin. The moon was really bright, so it wasn't the best time of night for stargazing, but they all got a chance to look at the moon through binoculars to see the craters on the moon.
Here's Noah with his fellow den member and partner in crime for the weekend, Anthony and his brother Gabriel, a tiger. Bad Mama, I forgot to bring the boys' uniforms; they were just about the only ones who did not wear their uniform!
After the stargazing, they all got together around the campfire for skits. I gathered the babies and headed back to Round Rock, and the pack ended the evening with cobbler! What a weekend! Good times. Great memories...
Can't wait for the Spring Campout!!! This weekend the plan is to go visit Dan's family in Katy. His brother John's birthday was the 19th (we missed it for the campout); he turned 17! We'll be taking Monica's car back down there because Dan's mom is buying it for John. We'll once again be a one vehicle family. Back to creative time management! John wants us to go watch him play in the UIL marching band competition. If they place there, they will get to go to the state competition in San Antonio. That should bring back memories; I loved marching band - I was in the color guard in high school my junior and senior year (I played cello in the orchestra but wanted to be part of the marching band also - the best of both worlds!) Then, weekend after that, Nov 2-4, Dallas and Dan will go camping again with Boy Scout troop 345. As Webelos, they get invited to join the boy scouts camping trips so they can start to learn the boy scout way and also to test out the different troops and find the one they fit in with the best. My birthday is the next Friday, and we hope to be able to make it down for Sierra's birthday party that Saturday (she's having a girl/boy party!) She's turning 12, I think. If we can work out the babysitting details, Dan and I hope to have a weekend away the next weekend or possibly some weekend soon after. But the weekend after that is Thanksgiving. We plan on going to Lake Livingston to celebrate with PePa and the rest of the Tipton clan. Seeing everyone again at Nanny's funeral made me realize how much I missed getting together with them. Even though it is a grueling 5 hour drive up there (with 4 kids cramped together in our van), I think it will be worth it, and I am looking forward to seeing everyone again. It will be hard to be there without Nanny, but I know she would love for us all to be getting together again. What a busy month we have ahead of us! And then advent begins, Dan's and my favorite time of year. It's quite possible I will not post again until after the new year!
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