Day 7: What does your horoscope say about you?

Disclaimer: I do not believe in horoscopes, and believe that the Bible counsels us as Christians to avoid them, to avoid believing in them, and to avoid seeking their counsel. I haven't looked at one in years, and I had to Google this to even answer the question. I think this is crap. And there you go.

So, here's what Google says about me:
1. I'm a "Scorpio on the cusp of a Sagittarius,"
2. I don't know what that means.
3. I'm apparently "ruled by Pluto and Jupiter, and seconded by Mars." Based on my limited knowledge of Roman and Greek Gods, Mars is a god of war; Jupiter is a huge planet; and Pluto's not even a planet anymore.....therefore, I REALLY don't know what this means.
4.  This came up: The most important lesson to be learned by Scorpio/Sagittarius natives is to be aware of the fact that their passionate nature can easily lead them into self-indulgance and/or compulsion. Since I'm a compulsive eater/shopper, they may have me on this one...
5. They also have me on this one...but someone's gonna have to push me out of the plane if I actually get the chance to go skydiving..." They are apt to prefer solitary or one-on-one sports that will stretch them to the limit…skydiving or big game fishing, for example. They are also likely to be rather lucky souls and probably enjoy gambling, while the philosophical aspect of their character denotes a fondness for drama and debate." I do like to gamble...or at least, I did on the only time I was exposed to it...which is why there will not be a second time, LOL...and I do not play well with others, for the record...

If you want to read anything else about what the skies evidently say about me, you go right ahead. Here's the link: http://excitingredbonelightning.com/post/1435692643/scorpio-sagittarius-cusphttp://excitingredbonelightning.com/post/1435692643/scorpio-sagittarius-cusp
I'm not reading anymore, because I think this stuff is dangerous, especially for me.

I trust Jesus. He made the skies....and truthfully, I believe the atmospheres and heavens shifted during the Flood, so our current solar system view is a little off. See Bill Banks' book about the Judaic constellations for more information--it's WAY more accurate. :)
And there you go!  (Sorry--just not into the whole horoscope thing. Really makes me uncomfortable).

Day 6: Write 30 Interesting Facts About Yourself

30 interesting things about me?!?!?  What the heck? I'm kinda boring. Okay, but this will be SO random, and potentially self-incriminating:
1. I don't tolerate alcohol well. Seriously--I'm a cheap date. I usually save the glass of wine for home.
2. If I miss my cup of coffee in the morning, heads will roll. Usually my husbands. Me - Coffee = Trainwreck. I tried to give it up during my pregnancy, but I kinda failed. Half-caff was a good change, but I'm back, baby!
3. Although I will periodically gain and lose, I've pretty much been the same size since college. Kinda frustrating, but I guess it's kinda good...I mean, at least I'm not twice the size I was in college, right? I'd like to get back to my high school weight...but who wouldn't?
4.  I really, really like wheeling and dealing online. Resale sites on Facebook are my new thing, but at least once a year, if I have the time, I will overhaul my closet and make a killing on eBay. And no, I WILL NOT SELL THINGS FOR YOU. That's my solemn vow to myself. I've tried it before, and it just ends up in hurt feelings. I barely sell things for my husband.
5. If I could get a publishing deal, I'd love to spend my life writing books or novels...but my first love is children's books. I have some brilliant (IMHO) ideas for stories that I can't wait to tell JD.
6. I really, really miss singing. I don't ever want to headline, but I'd love doing BGVs for someone. Dream act: Jewel, hands down. Or Sarah Mac. I do not, however, want to be a BGVist who has to manage choreography. The Dap Kings can have all of that they want; it's not for me.
7. I'd someday like to try my hand at being a professional product reviewer. I actually think it'd be a perfect fit; I like stuff, and I like to write. However, I have no idea how to get into that field.
8.  I am a die-hard 7-day Creationist. It's non-negotiable, and no, it isn't because my Sunday School teacher made me that way. It's because I've done the research, attended the seminars, read the books (it's been a while, though), and formed my own opinion. I will not argue or debate this with anyone; you're all entitled to your beliefs. I will never call evolution OR Creation a "Fact;" scientifically, it's all a theory, which is why I believe BOTH should be taught in schools. I've studied 4 major theories of theistic evolution, along with evolution, and 7-day Creation. I stand with the 7-dayers--it's what I believe, and I'm entitled to it.
9. I stick my feet in my mouth a lot. Figuratively, of course--have you seen me?!? I could never be that flexible.
10. I'm much braver on paper.
11. I use coffee filters to wax my eyebrows. (Is that "interesting?" Or just plain weird? It's a tip I found in Lucky magazine. Works incredibly well.)
12.  My car will hit 200,000 miles this month. I'm thinking of throwing her a party.
13.  Speaking of my car, she is indelibly a "she." I've named every car I've ever owned; the CooleyCamry is officially known as "Grandma Obama." I call her this, because when I got my first license plate on my "grandma" car (it's an old Toyota, and there's like, a million grandmas who drive that model), the plate started with "OBM." So, it was either "Grandma Obama" or "Oh, BM!" I've also owned "The Yeti" (Ford Tempo with broken automatics seatbelt) and "The Beast" (1979 Ford Fairmont). I will never drive another Ford product. The Camry is, hands down, the greatest car I have ever known. She was given to me, and she is my Israelite sandals.
14.  My hair is naturally curly. However, it did not become so, until I was 13. Talk about an eye-opener!!!
15.  I am, at 5'7", the tallest female in my entire family (blood family, not step). And, I'm taller than most of the guys. Mom's adopted, so I'm thinking whoever her bio-dad was, must have been tall. My sister is exactly 5', and even though she beat me up all of the time (even after I outgrew her), I didn't take advantage of my height/weights supremacy until I was 18. Then, I kicked her @$$, haha! And then...Mom kicked mine. Seriously. (Funniest story of my life. Still can't tell it without practically crying).
16.   I have loved flamingos since the 4th grade, when the two cool girls (Rachael and Jenny) liked flamingos, and I wanted to fit in. However, I realized that I really, TRULY liked the fluffy pink things, and it's been a lifelong love. They're one of the only things I can actually draw well; I drew a children's book called "Frankie the Flamingo Goes to the Chiropractor" for my old boss, and I think it rocked. (Of course I do!)
17.  Leaving my son behind every day that I go to work is not getting easier. Anyone who says it does is a filthy liar.
18.  If David would let me, I'd have at least 5 other tattoos. As it is, I have one (my late daughter's footprint), and am planning one more. If I didn't get one more, JD would grow up and be jealous.
19.  There are over 17,000 songs on my iPod. Music is my biggest addiction; I can't work without it.
20.  I grow increasingly agoraphobic as I get older, much like my mother. I don’t like crowds, and I don’t like concerts. I get invited to them all of the time, but they freak me out. Don’t touch me!!
21.  It’s pretty rare for me to drink soda. I mean, yes, I have my morning coffee…but other than that, I am one of the biggest water drinkers you will ever meet. I like water. It’s good for me, and it may be my only healthy habit. J
22.  I think pop culture is very important. Raising a child in this world requires a careful balance between insulating and alienating. I want my son to see “The Wizard of Oz,” and to know who Pink Floyd is. It doesn’t mean that I make him listen to boatloads of Led Zepplin or Jay-Z; it just means that maybe I play a snippet of them, so that he knows who those people are. Maybe I play “Lose Yourself” for him, but follow it with KJ-52. I want him to appreciate the musical genius of these artists, but to also appreciate that you can be a musical genius with a heart for God, kinda like Keegan Fowler, LOL.
23.  I absolutely cannot play an instrument, and I flunked Music Theory. Twice. This is why I say I am a singer, not a musician. There’s a huge difference. I can hear what I’m supposed to sing, but don’t tell me to sing a third. Not happening—you add numbers, and I’m confused. Totally left-brained.
24.  I don’t feel 35. I’ve never felt my age. I think I still feel 27, and perhaps, I still look it. You can only see my wrinkles when I’m totally exhausted, so I’m hanging on…Thanks, Mom!
25.  My most favorite TV show of all time is “Alias.” Sydney Bristow is my homegirl. Favorite movie: “The Princess Bride,” naturally.
26. When David and I got married, we danced to “A Moment Like This,” by Kelly Clarkson. Not because we liked the song—it was unspeakably cheesy, and we knew it. We had no idea what to dance to; David doesn’t dance, and we look ridiculous when we try. But we had only danced together one other time, to that song, so it made sense. Still can’t hear it without getting a little teary-eyed.
27.  When I was in college, I would go to 18-up clubs and dance my rear off. I’d dance on the bar, on a table, you name it; I’d hear people ask my friends, “How drunk is she?!?!” Never drunk. Stone-cold sober. I just like to dance.
28. In fact, I have never been what most people would define as “drunk.” See #1—it doesn’t take much for me to feel  a little tipsy, which is usually followed by a bit of a headache. That’s my warning, and that’s when I stop. I’ve seen too many people get drunk and hurl, which is not pretty.  My bio-dad is a full-blown, hardcore alcoholic, so I respect the stuff.
29. I have never smoked anything. Nothing—never tried, which I’m really proud of. I promised God I wouldn’t…and He gave me a vocal scholarship to college, which was astounding, because I’m not that good of a singer (mediocre at best—see #23).
30.  I am actually a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do (from age 13). I can still do a mean spinning kick. And I can deliver a knockout Right. Don’t test me, fool.

So, there you go—30 different/interesting facts about boring old me. I don’t think they were that interesting, but the challenge required it. There you go—nothing spiritual, nothing emotional, and nothing all that revolutionary….Just another day in The Random of Cassidy. J

Day 5: A Time You Thought About Ending Your Own Life...

Whoa-it just got real. This blog challenge seems to run from the mundane to the very, very serious. When I read that title, it was like cold water had just been tossed on me. I could give you the answers that you want to hear--"Oh, I'd never!"--but I made a promise to be honest in what I wrote.

A lot of people don't know that suicide is very personal to me--I lost my step-grandfather and my aunt to it. There is much to both stories that is not for blogging; some things need to remain private, even for me. The bottom line is that both losses were very painful for my family to go through, and are not something we talk about very often. I loved my aunt--she was vibrant and funny, and far too young. I don't understand her reasonings, but anyone could deduce that her heart was hurting. Her loss was particularly devastating to me, especially as I was still a teenager at the time...

I've always looked at suicide as a coward's way out. You kill yourself, you don't have to face the consequences. You don't have to look at your mother's face, you don't have to clean up the mess you've made. You're scott-free, and that's not fair. You've run away from reality--the reality that you are loved, that life is hard, and that it will--it DOES--get better. It does, even when you're in the deepest valley. That sounds really, really cliche, unless it's coming from someone who's looked hell in the face. Well, I have, and if I can say it gets better, then darn it, you have to believe that it does.

I can remember wanting to run into traffic as a small child. I can remember thinking that the world would be better if I wasn't around. I felt like an outcast, even at home, because my personality is so different from most people and family that I knew. I was the result of an unplanned pregnancy, and I never fully realized that my mother DIDN'T regret having me. It took the birth and death of my first child for me to have that conversation with my mom--I spent my entire youth thinking that she'd wished she'd had that abortion. That's pretty brutal, and the enemy had a field day with me. Please don't get me wrong--my mother loves me-she always has. But the smallest things can be used as a weapon, and that wound its way into my psyche like a parasite.

I've never really been afraid to die; my heart problems were initially diagnosed when I was 18 (mild arrhythmia, attributed to stress), and I'm about as accident-prone as they come. I'm more afraid of missing out on something, though, and I think that curiosity/nosiness has kept me from taking my own life on many occasions. Looking back, I've probably struggled with depression since I was 15...the trigger was most likely the death of my grandmother, who was my mostest-favoritest person in the whole, wide world. Her death had a huge impact on my life, as she was the one person who ALWAYS made me feel loved...Grandma Myers was my refuge, and when she died, I was anchor-less, even though I was raised in the church and knew that God was supposed to be my hiding place.

The thoughts to end my own life were (obviously) the hardest to combat after my daughter died. I've never made a serious attempt, although I did have at least one occasion where I pushed the limits. Definitely not my finest point. There is no "set time" when I thought about ending my own life. Truth be told, I think that my personal tendencies in that direction are the strongest when my hormones are out of whack. So, about once a month, I have to fight thoughts of driving my car into a cliff. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. I can recognize it; I know the counter-measures, and I know the consequences. It's not a thought-trail that I allow myself to go down, by the grace of God, but it is an issue that I have to be careful with.

Life is beautiful. It took 3 years after the loss of my daughter, for me to remember how it felt to laugh...for me to come back to  reality as a mother who had lost her child. I spent two years in the deepest valley of despair that you could imagine, and suicidal thoughts were a constant battle. The Valley of the Shadow of Death is more of a battlefield...and death casts a long, long shadow. When the sun finally began to creep out again, it shone on a whole, new world that I'm still getting used to.  Hannah would be turning 7 this October, in the first grade, and probably covering the world in glitter. My son just turned 6 months old....my little guy with his giant, Charlie Brown head and his beautiful green eyes brings me more joy than I ever thought possible. Just seeing his picture on my desk can bring me to tears of happiness. I didn't think I'd ever know such joy again. If I could go back to me as a teenager...as a new mother (with Hannah)...as a devastated woman who had no child to hold, and a broken heart...If I could go back and see myself sitting in that bathtub with my bottle of wine and my bottle of meds, waiting to see which would knock me out first...
If I could go back, and show myself a picture of my beautiful boy...
Or let myself know about the lives that Hannah's story has touched...
Or let myself know that the road is long, but so totally worth taking...
Or let myself know that yes, there is a husband for you, and he is amazing...
Or let myself know that the man I married was the strongest, bravest person I would ever meet, and that he would love me through my darkness...
If I could go back to those times of utter despair, and just let myself know that yes, it's a fact: God is there. He is here. He never lets me go. He will ALWAYS be there, even when your head is bowed, and you can't raise your face to see the sun...
Life becomes beautiful again through our weakness, because it's in His strength that we keep walking. It's in His strength that we finally look up and notice that the clouds have passed, and we can go on...broken, fixed, healed but scarred...we can not only survive our darkness; we can revolutionize the world with our testimonies.
So, minus my monthly hormonal swings and occasional thoughts (and my brief-but-treated round with postpartum depression), it's been a long, long time since I toyed with "what if I did?" But I have, and I think I have to be honest about that. Being a Christian doesn't mean you don't think about it--in fact, I think you just might think about it more, because Heaven sounds so much better than earth. But you can't win people to Christ if you're dead, and that's what we're supposed to do while we're here. We stay. We live, we breathe, we share our testimonies, and we raise the next generation to honor the Lord. Suicide is selfish and cowardly. We're called to be brave and strong, and to seek Him for the resources to do so.

But when you just can't....when you really, truly feel like you can't go on, even in His strength, there is hope. There is help. Just because you're a Christian, doesn't mean that you have to fight alone. And it doesn't mean that sometimes, our chemicals/hormones/neurotransmitters don't get a little messed up! So if you need or are on medication for depression or imbalances, don't think for a second that there's anything wrong with that. If you personally are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please click here:
It's a link to a list of hotlines that are for Broken Believers, and they can help. At my darkest times, I sought counseling from Dr. Mary Jo Schneller at South County Christian Counseling; you can reach her at (314) 729-0481, or online at www.scccchome.com.  There is hope, and there is healing. And life is a wonderful, beautiful gift! :)

Day 4: Your Views on Religion

Now, this is a blog challenge question I can get behind! Any time someone asks me about "religion," a very clear picture comes into my head: There's a scene in the movie "Jesus of Nazareth" where He is teaching at the temple, when the Pharisees ask Him what to do with some chick who was caught in the act of adultery (John 8:1-11). He doesn't say a whole lot; rather, He bends down and draws something in the sand.

This is the scene from "The Passion," but you get the point. Evidently, in that film, Mel Gibson's Jesus draws a line in the sand. Not biblical, but I understand his point...Anyways, when I hear the word "religion," that's what I think of: Pharisees, AKA "Painted Sepluchres," throwing accusations and stones at people, when the One Who is right, the One Who is kind, loving, just, gracious, and merciful, simply stands there and offers forgiveness.

Religion is rigid. It's harsh and commanding, judgmental and cruel. It's regime and ceremony, it's habit and hard lines. "Religion" is why the gay community is almost unreachable by Christians--we offer NOTHING when we go to people with brutality and condemnation.

My husband once preached a sermon about the difference between condemnation and conviction. Religion preaches condemnation; love gently convicts. When you go to people with your list of "should nots," you beat them down. Love meets people where they are, and gently builds them up into lifestyle changes. The Holy Spirit works on them from the inside, out--not beating them down from the outside, in. That's love. Religion is NOT love.  Religion is a well-used tool from the enemy that Christians have used in horribly misguided attempts to cause people to "come to the Lord" under a mantle of feeling like crap about themselves. 

When Jesus knelt down and doodled in the sand, He spoke volumes. He didn't jump up and yell at this woman (which, BTW, we have no idea why she was caught in the act of adultery, or where in the world was the guy!?!?!?!?). He didn't grab a stone to throw at her. He kind of physically turned His back on the Pharisees and on the situation, as if to say, "You are so petty." I mean, HE DREW IN THE DIRT. That was His reaction--to doodle! I can't get that image out of my head. Religion grabs rocks. Love acknowledges the situation, but puts it into perspective. Love awakens us to the reality that we are all equal--equally messed up, but equally redeemable.

“Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.
At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
“No one, sir,” she said.
“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” [John 8:1-11].

He had so many things that He could have said, and the Pharisees would have jumped on it. They were looking for a way to trap Him. He could have responded in judgement; He could have responded by grabbing a brick. Instead, He responded with simple, uncomplicated love.

The woman--she is me. She is all of us. She was confronted with death, but given grace, and she has no idea what to do with herself. Rather than run off as soon as the Pharisees began to go away, she's shell-shocked. Jesus stands up, looks her in the eye, and gives her that beautiful reality of freedom and forgiveness...That's what Love does.

So, that's my view of "religion." I don't like it. I'm guilty of playing that role, of living that lifestyle...but I don't want to be. Religion leaves no room for Love, and since God is Love, well, looks like those two are diametrically opposed.

"It's not a religion, it's a relationship." Yeah, that quotes' been overplayed. It's Christianese 101...but my relationship with God brings me closer to Him, and the closer I get to Him, the more I learn to love, which is right about where I think I'm supposed to be. Love all. Be Jesus. Judge none.

Day 3...Your views on alcohol and drugs

Who thinks of this stuff? This may be my shortest blog EVER.
I can happily live in a world without alcohol. That being said, I'm not opposed to the occasional glass of wine.
However, having been on the "receiving" end of someone else's drunkenness, I can honestly say that I'm 100% opposed to getting throw-your-guts-up trashed. I've never done it, and I've seen it far too many times. If you're using alcohol as a coping mechanism, that's not a good way to live. I think drunk drivers that kill people ought to be tried as murderers. I don't believe that writing off alcoholism as an addiction is right. As a fat person who has a problem with food, I choose what I eat. Could I argue that I have a "Fat" gene? Heck, yeah. Do I still pick up a Whopper? Yep. I am responsible for my behavior, regardless of genes, addictions, whatever. I choose. I've lost far too many people I love from alcoholism, and I genuinely feel sorry for them...but they made their choices. Choosing not to drink, for the most part, is how I handle having the genetic propensity toward alcoholism. Too bad I couldn't exercise that same restraint with food! :)
I'm pretty certain I'm cool with the legalization of marijuana for medicinal purposes. I don't have much of a problem with it, as long as it's controlled; I really don't think we need to fill our prisons with potheads. I've never tried it...in fact, I've never smoked anything.
So there you have it. Alcohol is fine in moderation; I think marijuana has its place. Drunkenness and states of permanent stoner-hood are not a Godly way of life.
The end! :) (That's such a silly blog topic!)

Day 2: Where I'd like to be in 10 years...

Funny you should ask.
6 months ago, I would have said that I hoped I still worked for the same company, or that I hoped I had my graduate degree...that I hoped I was teaching at a good school, and that I hoped I was out of debt.
Things have changed.
My goals have changed.
In 10 years, I would like to be alive. Healthier. Skinnier. More disciplined.
In 10 years, I would like to be debt-free.
In 10 years, I would like to say that the two things I struggle with the most (money and food) are hard-won battles that I am finished with...
In 10 years, I would like to know Jesus closer, better, more intimately, and more decisively.
I would like to say, in 10 years, that I have learned from my mistakes,
That I have learned to be a better parent,
And that my son never felt like I passed him by for my own devices.

I would like for my son to understand at least a small percentage of how much he is loved...

I would like for my husband to still want to hold my hand when we cross the street...to still be by my side...but not to snore any louder. :)

I would like to have a bigger garden, and to have continued my streak of avoiding speeding tickets.

I don't know if I'll make it back to school; I'm torn on the subject right now, even as I'm looking at a calender that has an academic adviser's meeting scheduled for next month. I don't know if I can physically handle the demands of the job, the home, the parenthood, the...etc.... I'm afraid. I'm walking on ice, and I feel like I could break through any second now....or fall under.

10 years from now, I hope I look back on this little blog, and I say, "Look at that--I did it. And it was just fine."

I don't know what my future holds, and I can't sit here and worry about it. My 6 month-old is teething, and we are at our wits' end as to how to bring him peace. All I know about my next 10 years is this:

No matter what happens...no matter what I do or do not do...no matter if I get that graduate degree, find a better-paying job, or stop working altogether...no matter if I ever get to sing background vocals for Jewel (!) or write my Great American Novel...No matter what happens,

Jesus loves me.

And that's really all I care about.

Day 1: Accepting the Challenge

The 30 Day Challenge…

Nah, it’s not a diet (like I’d go public about if it was! Sure, let me just post that, and then you can all watch me FAIL MISERABLY!!).   It’s a kinda-cheesy little blog challenge that a friend of mine posted. I’ve discovered that I have all of these ideas in my head, and I keep forgetting to just sit down and write it out. My hope is that a little challenge like this will help me get my head back in the game. After all—isn’t writing what I REALLY want to do? (Yeah…it is….along with speaking/singing/teaching/painting…and I wanna be an astronaut and a farmer and a President and a…….Oh, wait, you mean I AM a grown-up?!?!? Bummer).

So, this little challenge will hopefully get me in the right mindset of the bigger blog challenges that come with promoting increased readership. That’s what I’d love to see happen—more readers, and maybe a mini-career out of this writing stuff that I’ve loved for so long. It’s a small start, but here we go….here’s to sticking to it!

Day 1:  Your current relationship; if single, discuss how single life is

Seriously? That’s the first question?!? Sigh. Not very original…but I did say it was cheesy!

I’m married. I’m married to a man whose name means “Beloved,” and it’s engraved on his wedding band. He is my beloved, and I am his, and we are a combination of happy circumstances that were ordained by God. I’m married to a man who chases God, who constantly reads, researches, studies, and seeks to understand the very heart of the Lord. I’m married to a man who has pushed me to my ultimate limits, who has broken my heart into a thousand pieces, who has held me together and kept me off of ledges, and who has the strongest shoulders I have ever seen…I am married to a man who likes me a little bit crazy, but who can handle me when I’m off of the deep end. I am married to a man who has an insane love of furniture and home décor…who has a palette that rivals Gordon Ramsay, and who missed his calling to be an Executive Chef of Southern Home Cooking.

I am married to a man who has shown me what I already knew: He is an incredible father. There’s nothing more attractive than a man who a.) loves God and b.) loves his child. David and his mini-me are my favorite guys on this planet . The Journey to JD (our son) was a long, arduous, insane path, and David stayed on it with me. I don’t understand his thought processes any more than he understands mine, but I do know this: He has stayed.  He has stayed, and he will stay (God-willing), and he will raise our son to be a faithful, kind, loving man, just like he is.

I am married to a man who is far from perfect. I find socks in the recliner, T-shirts on the floor, and toothpaste in the sink; he is known for volcano-like eruptions at stoplights.  He forgets to tell me I’m pretty, he expects praise for the mundane (yes, honey, you’re great—you did the dishes. Which I have done, in anonymity, for days. Would you like a parade? You would? Okay..but you’re cleaning up the confetti.), and he drinks the last of the coffee creamer without telling me. He also steals Nutella, which is a cardinal sin.

I am a wife who flies off of the handle. I am emotional, possibly slightly bipolar, and I have struggled with depression for years. I can be a complete know-it-all; I am messy, boorish, obstinate, and disobedient. I fight with what it truly means to be submissive. I am high-maintenance, and my health issues have caused us no end of financial and marital stress. I can be very unstable, predictable in my unpredictability, and I constantly struggle with filtering what comes out of my mouth. I struggle with my faith, with reading the Bible over reading a good book, and I do not use my talents for the things that I’m sure God would like for me to use them on. 

I am a mother, and I’ve been one for 7 years. I am a mother, and I’ve been one for 6 months. I am confused as to various parts of my identity as a woman, as a Christian, as a church member. I feel useless but overused; ignored, but too loud. I am fiercely protective, and if you harm my child or flirt with my husband, I will end you. That’s a promise.

I can be a cutthroat B if you cross me, and I find myself constantly fighting against that tendency. I lose more than I’d like, at least, mentally. I’m incredibly thankful for grace. I am faithful…I am expressive…I am an individual who is not often understood, but David gets me (most of the time). If he were writing this blog, I’m not sure how he’d describe me (Spender? Undisciplined? Spoiled? Drama Queen? Micromanaging psycho?), but I hope he’d remember that I’m still that blonde in high heels that agreed to go on that second date…

Without my husband, I am still me…but I am not a happy me. I am not a fulfilled me. I miss my other half, when he’s not around; I feel exposed and vulnerable. As time goes on, I feel more and more naked when he’s not around, and I don’t like it. He’s become my covering, which is as it should be. We may forget to say certain niceties to each other, but at the end of the day, I think we both find the bed feels warmer with both of us in it. Our little family felt complete before, during, after, before, and during children, and dog, and everything else…but as time goes by, it feels more complete than ever.

When we got married, we looked at the broken homes that we came from, and we made a promise to each other: We would not go down that path. The “D” word is not spoken in our house. We recently had a major disagreement that was loaded with hurt and pain—we’ve been through a lot lately. The question of single parenthood came up, and was immediately shot down—the thought is worse than a horror film. We do not stop. We do not back down. We stay together, through hell, high water, hurt, and happiness. We are welded together in steel, and we ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya’ here? We made a vow before God, and we meant it.

I mean it, every single day.

I love that man. I’d lay down my life for that man. He makes me crazy (and that's MUTUAL!), but he makes me happy. Where he goes, I go; where he stays, I stay. His God is my God, and his people are my people, and that’s all there is to it.

We are a combination of our best and of our worst, and of our everything in-between. I can’t say enough about how much I love being married, or about how many times I’ve wondered if we both have lost our minds. I can’t describe to you, the peace I feel when he takes my hand (even if it’s just to keep me from wandering into traffic). I’ve blogged about marriage before, and maybe in my head, I have a crazy, romantic notion of it that might be different from how it is when I walk in the door after a long day…But if that’s true, then it’s a delusion I’ve held for almost 9 years, and I’ll keep it.

I married a lover of God.

I married a lover of me.

Through fire and fury, we’re bonded together in grace, laughter, pain, and hope…

And we belong to Jesus first,

Each other second,

To our children, third….

And to the dog, of course….