Carl, Ellie and Naise Life

I am so thankful that he warned me so I was prepared with Kleenex when he started talking. Brandon proceeded to share our infertility with our church family during the praise and thanksgiving service. Some already knew our story, but not everyone. The drive behind him finally sharing - not just our story, but his anger and frustrations with God - came from our Revival a week ago.  As the final service of Revival came to a close, we approached Rob, the speaker of the Revival, and asked that he pray with us. Now, I have only seen Brandon cry once prior to that prayer time - when I had to tell him that Cado died at the vet's office. That night, I saw my husband be truly unguarded on the subject. Rob encouraged us to share our story...not just because there are other families who have also experienced infertility or maybe some that will someday, but because the frustration, the anger, the hurt are very real to many people for many reasons. Brandon had already talked to Scott about s...

PATTY: So, the 30th is the dark day LORELAI: [dropping her bag again] What dark day? PATTY: Luke's dark day. The day that he disappears. ..... Today is that day for me. My dark day. I wish I could just take off work and disappear for the day. Heck, even starting the night before.  My dark day began on November 15, 1990. I was sitting in Mrs. Litzenberger's second grade classroom that Thursday morning. As I was at the language arts station, the intercom sounded. The secretary announced that my Mom was on her way and some code phrase (that had been chosen at the beginning of the school year unbeknownst to me). Mrs. Litzenberger told me to go get my backpack and coat off the hook and get ready to get some homework gathered up. Oblivious to what was going on at that moment, I remember walking over to my cubby, grabbing my backpack and my coat and putting them on my desk. Not too long after the announcement was made, my Mom walked into the room with my little sister. M...

I have often been heard saying that I feel "deaf" when it comes to hearing God speak to me or seeing Him do work in my life. I have, many times over, admitted to yelling at God in the midst of crying. I have also admitted to feeling overlooked...especially in regard to our infertility. Sunday School brought something to the forefront that our group, among countless other discussions previously, the different ways God communicates directly with us. Ultimately, I know people (well, one for sure) who hear God audibly speak to them. As I stated in a previous post, I have heard Him audibly once in my life. So that route isn't the way He communicates with me. My husband is one who experiences God's direct communications in the form of dreams. Some hear Him through scripture. Some hear Him in countless other ways. Me, nothing. I'm "deaf". Our pastor was gone yesterday, so we had a member of the church give the message. Amy's message was about trust...

I haven't had a problem talking about my eating disorder in the past. I will openly discuss it with students who are even thinking about going down the dangerous path. However, I have been dealing with, what I refer to as, the "voices". They come in at every meal some days. It sounds crazy, but they really infiltrate your thoughts. So, today, I share my story of anorexia.  The teasing had been going on since the start of school. Then, two months in, I heard one of my cousins make fun of my weight to his friends. That moment was the first conscious decision I had made about my weight. I was a tennis player, basketball manager, in marching band...it wasn't like I wasn't active. During the summers, I participated in three different tennis camps throughout the day and played softball. Seriously, some of my weight was still just baby weight that stubbornly refused to go away and began settling in the designated locations that the Sears genetics preferred. Some of it ...

15? Wait a minute. There aren't 15 of us, are there? *counting on my fingers hidden under the table*  Ryan, Charidy, Kristi, John, Adam, Kendra, me, Brandon, Darren, Allison, Becky, Jeremy, Melinda, and Joseph. Nope, that is only 14. Maybe it's a typo, but that's Aunt Janet's handwriting so it can't be. Text...Mom...now. "Why is there a 15 for number of grandchildren?" "I'll tell you later." Oh, phew, error... *read text again*  Wait, what? As I sat and pondered what my Mom could possibly mean by the "I'll tell you later" text, my curiosity grew. Is there another grandchild I don't know about? Seriously, though, I'm 31...how could I not have known an 8th original existed? Gotta know... hurry up in here. I have questions! My Mom, Aunt Gayla, Aunt Janet, Aunt Lu, cousin Ryan, the minister, and I were all gathered around the table at the funeral home reviewing the information that was to be put in my Granddad...

I have often contemplated why I have had some of the experiences I have had. I grew up in a privileged house with a working Dad and stay-at-home Mom. I wasn't required to get and maintain a job throughout high school. I didn't have to pay for my car, my insurance, or my gas. I got an allowance every month until I graduated high school without being expected to do chores, though they were encouraged. I pushed myself in school to be in tougher classes and pass with As. I participated in Student Council, National Honor Society, band, choir, French Club, etc. I went to my local community college, where I stayed just as busy as I had in high school and took tough courses. Things were great...on the outside. Inside...well...that was a whole different story. Goliath existed while I was growing up - familial expectations. Darren was the  prized grandson to my Mom's parents. They loved us all, but he was the at the top peak looking down at the rest of us (in their eyes, n...

Here I stand, once again, and I have to admit that staring into her eyes is the most difficult thing I have to do.   You're not pretty enough.   Your eyes are too close together.   You have your grandmother's double chin.   Your rosacea is annoying.   Your hair is a disaster.   You are fat.   You'll never be good enough.    The constant conversations that take place when staring into her eyes is tiring and emotional.   The eyes I have to stare into are my own.  And that conversation takes place on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day. Today is no different. Infertility.   You're a failure.  Your anorexic days could be biting you in the butt right now.  Your weight now is hurting you in this.  Why won't you get off your fat butt and do something to fix it more than what you are doing?  Who are you kidding you'll be a terrible mother... Depending o...

I have been struggling the past few days. It's as simple as that...I've been struggling. From seeing pregnant people who definitely take for granted being blessed...to holding a little baby...to things just pointing that direction...I am a mess. Sunday afternoon, as we were saying bye to our besties, Heather told me she wanted to pray over me. None of us four left that living room without tears in our eyes. I spent Sunday night bawling in the shower...Frustration and sadness were consuming me in that moment. Last night, I was taking a bath...which is rare for me because I'm not much of a bath person...and as I tried relaxing, I was perusing Facebook. A good friend, who has been struggling as well, made a very vague comment about God being so good and there were questions and such about her being pregnant. Now, don't get me wrong, I am more than happy for them if that is the case. I know that they have been struggling as well, but it doesn't make it any easie...