Childhood memories are sometimes so happy. Do you remember your favorite memory? Are there family vacations, loving moms and dads, and homes full of intertwined comfort and peace? If so, please feel loved, feel blessed, feel the gift you were given.

My earliest childhood memory is sleeping in the back driver side floorboard of my mom’s old beat up red car. Why do I even remember, at three years of age, which spot was assigned to me? I’m not sure. We parked each night in the driveway of a “friend”. Really it was the house where my mother would go to feel connected and to feel like she was part of something. She needed to chase away all the pain and fear of what might be ahead for her and her three young daughters.

My second most stunning childhood memory is the abusive man that became mom’s boyfriend. I vividly remember the beatings in the middle of the road, the anger, the hospitalizations, the blood. He never hit us girls, it was always mom. There is something that happens when you watch your mother being abused. Something I can’t yet put into words.

Rounding out my top three earliest memories is the death of my grandmother. My eldest sister and I were spending the night when she passed away. I was three years old. I remember this event with such clarity that I can hear the EMT’s words, I can see my mother’s reaction to just losing her mother, I can feel the pain, the sorrow, the agony of losing the only person who was capable of caring for us.

I tell you this: Sometimes circumstances seem absolutely unconquerable. My childhood pain seemed like it would last forever. But God had a plan, He is Gracious, He is Love. One day my mom decided to move to Roanoke and there a wonderful stepfather walked into our story. Little did we know our lives would be changed forever! No more cold nights, government cheese and powered milk. No more homelessness and beatings. Because of this gift, God has grown me, my mother and my sisters into amazing women with lives so beautiful we cannot imagine! We have all found not only an earthly Father, but all are children and believers in a Heavenly Father who is irreplaceable.

Childhood memories are sometimes so sad. But God knows the plans he has for our future! My Heavenly Father has built a mansion in glory for me and He reminds me daily that this life is temporary; this life is meant to glorify Him, not to worry about what I have or where I live. Sometimes a humble beginning in the back driver side floorboard will bloom into a beautiful, fulfilled life God had just around the corner.

What situation might you be in that you think will never end? I encourage you, with this scripture:

Isaiah 43:1-3 Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

I am a planner.  Every day, I have a plan and several contingency plans for what will happen.  And when something throws a wrench in said plans, and things don’t happen the way that I want them to, I go into a complete and total tailspin.  It doesn’t matter if the change that happened alleviated pressure on me, or freed up time for me.  Nope.  I don’t know how to handle it and I have to rope myself back in.

Ten months ago, I had a plan for how the next 10 months of my life would be.  I can assure you that the plan did not include the boy, his children, a new dog, a legal battle, etc.  I can promise you.  It included me and my kids and the life that we were living was continuing.  The plans never included weekends at the lake, or dates, or anything like that.  They just didn’t.  And I can also assure you that when the boy and his clan walked into my life, I went into a tail spin.

Fortunately, I got control and learned to deal with it and as a result, I made new plans.  Plans that included all of the aformentioned and more… including a vacation to the beach.  My children and I were excited.  This was new for us.  The last time the kids and I went on a vacation was 5 years ago when we went to Florida with my parents.

Two weeks before we were supposed to leave for the beach we had to face reality; we couldn’t go to the beach.  We didn’t have the money.  With my new job outside of the home, the cost of daycare was out of control.  Matthew got hit in the face with a baseball and his dental bills were something that I didn’t have budgeted.  (Yes, Dave Ramsey, I understand the importance of Baby Step 1… and I reached that step.  And then I had to get a new job and pay day care, thus depleting all of my hard work obtaining Baby Step 1.  But please know.  It was there for a good two weeks.) Our tax returns were less than we expected.  I had $500 of car repairs that I found out about when I went for a simple oil change.

We were devastated.  I take that back.  The boy was devastated.  And at that point in time, we hadn’t yet told the children.  We didn’t tell the kids until the night before.  I put a spin on it and not one of them complained.  The boy complained more than they did, but not in front of them and I finally looked at him and said, “this week will be what you make of it.”

You see, we didn’t cancel the vacation, we simply changed locations.  Instead of the eight hour drive to Nags Head we drove an hour to the lake.  The boy’s parents have graciously allowed us to use the place whenever we want in exchange for keeping up with it.  I had the distinct pleasure of sleeping in the house, however, due to the custody papers, he is not to have overnight guests (which, I totally don’t have a problem with and it’s how I prefer it.. we do strive to postive role models for our children and the teens in the church afterall).  To abide by the rules, the boy camped nearby.  I felt horrible but he said he really liked it and the kids were excited to camp out as well.

To add insult to injury, as if determining that you are poor, can’t go to the beach and now have to go to the lake isn’t enough, when I checked the weather the night before we left, it was to be sunny Saturday, Sunday and then rain the rest of the week.

Let me paint a clearer picture for you.  The house?  A two-bedroom trailer (a nice one, but a trailer, never the less) with no internet, no television, no cell signal.  A tent that may or may not leak.  Four children.  Two adults.  One dog.

That spells one thing and one thing only.

Disaster.

But guess what?  It rained one day.  ONE.  I would check the weather at three in the morning (heh… yes, I really am up at 3am) and it would say rain in the morning and when I would wake up the sun was shining.  I stopped depending on the weather forecasts.  I stopped trying to plan.  Ok, so I can’t do that, but I had a sunny day plan and a rainy day plan and never had to use the rainy day one.  Praise God!

The boy and I had talked about possibly getting married while we were at the beach.  I’m still not married to the boy, but that’s okay.  It was there that I determined it wasn’t time; we weren’t ready.  We will do it when God pulls the trigger and only then.

We made it to the beach when we spent two days at the State Park.  Short of the lack of the salt water, it was the beach.  We did everything that we would’ve done at the beach.

And, I involved the kids.  On the way to the lake, I handed them an envelope of cash and said, “Here’s your vacation money, your fun money.  When it’s gone, it’s gone.”

Do you know that collectively, they budgeted their money?  They talked about how they wanted to spend it… together.  They bought us ice cream from the ice cream boat without us asking; they encouraged us and demanded that we participate in activities.  It was almost as if they were new kids and when we came home?  Their envelope had $80 left inside it.  Dave Ramsey would be beaming over this!

No, I didn’t get what I wanted that week.  I wanted to be at the beach, eating seafood at some over priced and not very good restaurant, just for the experience.  I wanted to splash in the ocean, play in the sand, and watch the boy and the older kids hang glide.  I wanted to get married on that island at sunset with just the preacher and our children in attendance.

But I got so much more.  We made memories.  We learned things.  We bonded even more.  Not to mention, we stayed and played until the very last second that we possibly could whereas if we were at the beach, we would’ve packed up and had an 8 hour drive ahead of us.  Nope.  Just an hour.  That’s all.  And the clean up?  The kids didn’t have to whine through it all.  They played until we had to go, we took them to their other parents and then the boy and I went back to pack up the house and spend some time reflecting on the week.

No, I didn’t get what I wanted.  I can’t always get what I want.

But I got exactly what God wanted and it was more than I ever expected.

Project 3am is here for encouragement.  It’s here so that others can see that there are others out there, no matter where they are in their walk, that are struggling.  When I’m in need of encouragement, whether it’s because everything is coming at me at once, I’ve fallen spiritually, or just feel low, I enjoy reading stories of others who have made it through hard times.  It’s not that I take pleasure in the fact that they struggled or are hurting, it’s simply a way for me to see that they made it through and if they can, why can’t I?

Project 3am was designed to bring authenticity back to true Christianity.  So many times I will go to someone in my church and I will sob and cry and tell them how I am struggling and I get the same “pat on the back” answer.  “Don’t worry.  God is there.  Just trust in Him.”  This of course, comes right before they flash their new piece of jewelry to another parishoner or get into their new car that they just bought after receiving a promotion at work.  I, of course, want to scream.

I’m not stupid.  I know that God is here.  I know that He is, but there are times when we’re eating a poop sandwhich, a big one at that, and we’re full.  We just don’t want anymore and it’s natural to wonder where He is.  It’s normal to have a knee jerk reaction of “Geez, God.  What did I do to you?”  It’s HUMAN and guess what?  We’re HUMANS.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate those people at my church who will give me the “pat on the back” pep talks but do you know what I really want to hear?  Do you know what I crave?  I crave stories about a struggle that they once had and how God was right there all along… and how they just didn’t realize it until later.

Take Miss Doris at my church.  As her 50th wedding anniversary approached, she sat down and penned their story.  Pastor Ray passed over three years ago, but it was a way for her to not only remember it, put it down for her children and grandchildren, but also to share encouragement with the rest of the congregation.  Miss Doris and Pastor Ray were missionaries, traveling the country with a trailer and children living on love offerings alone.  As I read her story, I just kept thinking that there was no way that I could do that.  How can you plan your life not knowing what the congregation of the latest church is going to share with you?

But throughout her story, you saw God moving.  I asked her if God was obvious when she was going through this and she said there were times that she stayed on her knees in prayer.  Oh how I love Miss Doris.  Her faith is rock solid.  I’m convinced she has a direct connection with the Big Guy but in reality, she’s no different than me.  Her connections with Him are no different than mine, short of, Miss Doris is faithful when it comes to spending time with Him.  (Here is where I could insert an excuse as to why she spends more time with Him…because she’s retired, no kids at home, and a little free time on her hands, but I’ll refrain.  I know that it’s just an excuse.  I’m good at those.)

Miss Doris is authentic.

I pride myself on being authentic.

I want others to be authentic with me.  I want someone to come striding up to me and say, “You know what, Heather?  Sometimes life sucks.  Sometimes you just have to eat that poop sandwich with a smile and know that it’s going to be okay.  I can remember when…” and they go into a story that is always funny to them now, but not so much then.

TD Jakes once said, “I don’t care if you fast until you look like Twiggy or if you speak in more tongues than the United Nations, life is still going to happen.”  Heh.  Probably one of my most favorite quotes, ever.

Which brings me back to Project 3am and how this is supposed to be authentic.  But I’m in a little bit of a pickle.  You see, I have someone who entered my world some 10 months ago and started taking my words and using them against me… or for leverage.  I allowed this person to take my passion, my love, and my gift away from me.  I allowed this person to steal something from me and instead of fighting back, I’ve crawled in a hole and remained mostly silent.

I’ve not shared much of my life with the World Wide Web and some of my biggest triumphs and defeats have been during this time.  I’ve got God stories that you blow you away; ones that would make you stand there with your mouth hanging open going, “No way.”

Yes way.  I have them.  But they remain tucked away in my brain, or in note form in my phone so that I won’t forget.

I expressed my concern to Josh.  I explained the situation to him and his answer was to post under a different name.  He told me to change the names of the people in my family.

My retort back to him was, “how is that authentic?”

I’ve noodled on this for awhile.  I’ve thought about it and thought about it and thought about it some more.

Here’s the bottom line.  I’ve been commanded to “Go and make disciples of all nations,” right?  I’m not doing anything wrong.  I’m not ashamed of what I do.  I strive to live a life that is holy and pleasing to God.  So why can’t I talk about it?  Why can’t I share with you that the boy is going through a huge legal battle and what should’ve been pretty cut and dry has been drug out causing pain to every one involved, the biggest his children?

Why can’t I tell you that God has blessed me with a family that I never thought I would have?  Why can’t I tell you that I am in love with a man that I didn’t think existed?

And why can’t I tell you that the boy’s name is Bill?

I have come to the conclusion that if I am not doing anything wrong then I can write what ever I darn well please.  I know that God wants me to write.  He made that obvious a long time ago and I also know that it is a sin not to use your gifts, of which I have one with writing (or so I’ve been told.)

Thinking about all of these things have made me realize that I’m going to write.  I’m going to tell you about the struggles that I face every day.  The thought of my words, feelings, and thoughts being misconstrued scares the crap out of me.

However, knowing that I could’ve had a contributing role in the salvation of another person but missed the opportunity because I remained silent?

That scares me even more.

So here I am.  Here’s what I’m dealing with.  Here’s how the Lord is working in me and through me and through those around me.

But just so people don’t get confused?  Bill will always be “the boy.”  He says he doesn’t like it but secretly? I think he does and I don’t want to dissappoint him.

1 Listen, my sons, to a father’s instruction;
pay attention and gain understanding.

2 I give you sound learning,
so do not forsake my teaching.

~Proverbs 4:1-2

Friday night, after agreeing to a trial run with a rescue dog, Bo graced his home. The boy was wonderful in asking if “we” could get a new dog. While I joked about his question in a recent post on my blog, it was the right and respectful thing to do. A dog is more of a permanent fixture and as we are planning on combining households in the foreseeable future, it was right to ask my permission.

I stood on neutral ground on the issue. You see, when my children and I are visiting his home, it’s slightly chaotic. No, I take that back. It’s really chaotic. There are four children running around ages 12 to 4, two adults, and my dog, Rhoda. I wasn’t sure that adding a new dog, a puppy at that, would be such a good idea. But the boy was set on getting a dog and I told him that if he wanted another dog, he could get another dog.

Bo arrived and immediately showed us that he was able to climb the fence. Upon climbing the fence he, being a red bone hound and fast, darted across a very busy street and into the adjacent neighborhood. We then determined that we were not able to leave Bo outside unattended. No big, right?

Saturday morning, I arrived to find the heel of one of shoes mangled. I deducted, smartical partical that I am, that Bo had mistaken my shoe for a chew toy. I determined that I’ll just make sure that my shoes are in a place where Bo can’t get them. (Ok, so I also decided that God made Bo chew my shoe so that I could go and get a new pair. Which I did. Ok, so I bought two.) No big, right?

Bo, or Houdini as we affectionately named him, escaped a few more times over the weekend both over the fence and out the front door when we weren’t paying attention. Finally, Wednesday morning, after the latest escape, the boy came to the conclusion that Bo was not the right dog for us.

“You were right. I’ll call Katrina and see if she can come and get him tonight,” he said.

“Why are you telling me that I was right? I never told you that the dog wasn’t a good idea,” I responded. He paused. He was thinking. The boy has a certain pattern of wrinkles that appear on his forehead when he thinks.

“I guess you’re right.”

Later that morning while we were on the phone, I could tell that he was depressed. “I feel like I’ve given up on him,” he said.

“But you haven’t. You’re giving him a chance. You know that it won’t be long before he escapes and takes off across the street and gets hit by a car.”

“You’re right, but I still feel like a butt,” he replied. He continued, “and I knew that getting another dog wasn’t a great idea, but I did it anyway.”

I felt bad for the boy. I knew that he wanted this to work. Shoot, I wanted this to work. I had come, like the rest of our combined clan, to love Bo. He was such a happy dog and he grinned. He would cuddle up with you and if he wouldn’t have been an escape artist, I think he would’ve been perfect for us.

No, I was never keen on the idea of another dog. We struggle keeping everyone de-chaosed as it is and dogs come with expenses that I didn’t think we had, but I was willing to set that aside.  Bo made the boy happy and with the past few months being nothing but trials and tribulations for him, and us, I wanted him to be happy.

The boy’s face was that of someone who was letting his best friend go when I arrived at his house after work. I was heartbroken for him, but I knew that he was making the right decision. I also knew that he was sitting there, racking his brain, attempting to find some way that we could make this work with Bo. As a friend pulled in the driveway and we were distracted, Bo escaped and took off across the street. It was 5:30pm and the height of afternoon traffic.  Bo was hit by a car. Fortunately there was no damage to Bo or the car that he bounced off of, but I believe that the events needed to happen to confirm that the boy had made the right decision.

After the foster mother came to pick Bo up and I had some time to reflect, I thought about God and how He handles situations. How many times has he been up there, staring down at me going, “Heather…I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” but just let me go allowing me to learn and figure out things on my own? Let’s take all of my former relationships. How cool would’ve it have been to tell me, “Heather, I know he’s cute and has a good job, but seriously? Not the right guy for you.”

It wouldn’t matter. You and I both know that I, in my infinite wisdom would’ve retorted, “Pshaw. Don’t worry about me God, I’ve got this one under control.” Because I have said that to Him. When the Holy Spirit moved inside of me, giving me that gut feeling that this wasn’t right, I shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about me, God. I know what I’m doing. It will be okay.”

And if I would’ve said that to the boy, “Hon, I really don’t think it’s going to be a good idea,” he would’ve been hurt, upset, and possibly angry with me because I would be the bad guy. I’d be the one that said no to the new dog. So I sat back, was supportive, and when the decision was made to return Bo, I was here to be encouraging, a voice of reason, and a shoulder to lean on….

Just like God is to me when I’ve done what I thought was best and found out later that I was wrong.

I didn’t look at the boy and say, “I told you so,” and God, no matter how bad you think you’ve screwed up will never tell you that either. All He wants is for you to realize where you goofed, come to Him and ask for forgiveness, and attempt not to make the same mistake again.

Through our time with Bo, I knew that there was a lesson hidden in there somewhere, I just wasn’t sure what it was.

Isn’t it awesome that God uses everything to relay lessons to us? Even rescue dogs.

Amazing isn’t it?

Have you ever found yourself stressed?  Down, worried and fretting over money, things, or people?  Not enjoying the day, the moment that God has given you?  We all have cares and worries in life, but do you let them rob you of your joy?  Your peace?  We can find such peace when we realize that God really is in control.  There are no surprises with God.   He knew about our current situation before we were born.  He knows our future.  That should bring comfort in a world rocked with uncertainty.  God cares for you.

Sometimes in your journey of life you realize that you are not in control and God is.  This reality came to me three years ago when I came face to face with a possible terminal illness diagnosis.  At that moment, my day-to-day “stresses,” including money, faded into the background.  Everything that really was important could be taken from me – or should I say Me taken from them.  Isn’t it life – when things are going smoothly, we sometimes forget to lean on God?  But when difficulties come, we find ourselves begging and pleading with God?

It was a typical summer day, my family and I were getting ready for our annual church camp when I discovered a hard lump in my breast.  I was scared.  I immediately went to my physician, who I thought was going to assure me it was OK.  During the visit, he told me he was scheduling me to visit a specialist ASAP.  At that moment, I realized my mortality and the definite reality of eternity.  Wow, how priorities change! 

We went to church camp for the weekend, and I received the phone call Monday that I was to see the specialist the next morning.  This lump was real – my husband, my mom, my physician, my sister (a registered nurse) and myself had all felt it.  My husband, David, and two of my children went to the appointment with me.  I sat there with women of all ages, some obviously going through treatment – and I prayed.  I felt God’s presence and peace.  I had the test and the specialist, after reading the report, said, “Nothing’s there – everything is normal.”  He couldn’t explain why, but I knew.  God was in control!  My family had been so upset with the news.  The day before, I remember my Uncle Tony crying out to God on my behalf.  However, what I didn’t know was what had happened at church camp the night before.

My mom wasn’t feeling well and was not planning to go to the evening service.  My dad went on to church.  But mom said she felt very strongly that she needed to go.  She decided to get ready and slip into the back of church, although she didn’t feel like it.  At the end of the service, the evangelist beckoned those who needed prayer to come to the front.  Several people went, and then he said for anyone who wanted to come and be prayed for in someone’s place to come down.  Mom said she felt a strong urgency to go an be prayed for – for me.  The whole crowd prayed for me and believed that I would be OK.  Coincidence?  No, I know that God wanted to heal me, mom obeyed, and I praise Him for that.

When I called the church camp to share the news of my results, my dad answered the phone and – he could hardly speak.  Everyone was so excited, rejoicing, and thankful!  Why do we not trust Him?  He says in His word that as parents, we like to give good gifts to our children.  Think how much more He wants to do for us!  (Matthew 7:11)

 In these times that are laden with uncertainty, remember who is in control and who gives the gift of life and salvation everyday.  Fret not, cast your worries on Him.  GOD IS IN CONTROL!

Let me preface this post with two statements:

(1) I am NOT perfect… far from it.  So in no way is this post placing myself on a high horse in which I will break my neck when I fall…

(2) I’m not in the most chipper cheery mood these days, but I’m striving to get better…

Now, on with the post.

I love church signs.  I really do.  I think some of the most thought provoking statements can be found on the marquees, no matter how fancy they are.  The church around the corner from me makes me think daily and because the messages are there for at least a week and sometimes longer, I’m able to see them, read them, meditate on them.  This particular church has my most favorite message of all time.  Many years ago, when I didn’t even know this side of town existed, I was driving over here with my boss and we passed this church and their sign stated:

“Stop, drop and roll doesn’t work in hell.”

I don’t know why that struck me.  I wasn’t even saved at the time, but it stuck with me and I’ve repeated that same message to many throughout the years.  They’ve had other good ones, but none that stuck with me like that one until these last few days.

Coming home every day I’m faced with the sign that says, “The dictionary is the only place where success preceeds work.”

Think about that for just a moment.  It should be completely true.  It should be that rewards come at the cost of hard work; that success is measured by the effort that you put in.  But that’s not really the case with society today.  We live in a land where people think that they are owed something; where they feel that just because they show up for work, they should collect a paycheck.

But that’s just not the way that it is. As I look around me and my circumstances, I’m mad.  I mean, down right, ready to spit, mad.  Seriously.  I’m sick and tired of busting my butt and robbing Peter to pay Paul.  I don’t live in a fancy house.  I don’t drive a fancy car.  I don’t wear designer clothes nor do my children unless I’ve picked them up at a second hand shop.  We don’t eat out often.  We tithe.  We are living to the best of our ability based on my salary.

But…

I drive past the projects, the low income housing and I see the clothes that the people there are wearing.  I see the cars that are sitting outside their doors.  I see the “bling” adorning their bodies and I sit there and wonder why they have more than me.  And I get jaded.

I’m tired of working two jobs to pay the bills, to save, to do some fun things while I watch people trot their happy butts all over town doing what ever they want without a care in the world.

I’m tired of it.

Sick and tired of it.

But you know, it’s funny…

The other side of that church sign?

Wanna know what it says?

“When was the last time that you made God smile?”

Today. Because I’m doing the right things.  I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.  Every day.  And yes, I’m angered by the circumstances that I’m in and what I witness around me, but I’m not giving in.  I’m not.  I’m keeping my chin up.  I’m trying to tackle every day with a smile.  Because that, my dear readers, makes God smile.

And in the end?

That’s all that matters.  When I stand before him and I hear him say, “Well done my good and faithful servant,” it will be worth it.

So worth it.

That’s what success is and yes, that success takes work.

So very very worth it.

Originally posted at Desperately Seeking Sanity on June 23, 2009

This morning, I found myself needing to make a trip to Natural Bridge for our Leadership Conference.  Driving from the ‘Noke, I knew exactly how to get there… just hop on 81, high tail it up the road about 35 miles and I’m there.  Easy peasy.  However, I didn’t find myself in the ‘Noke this morning, rather at the lake.  Using my handy-dandy GPS on my phone (how did I, the queen of getting lost, ever survive without this feature? Well, I guess it’s obvious, I didn’t… not very well, anyway.) I loaded up the directions from the lake house to Natural Bridge and was pleased to see that time wise, it wasn’t that much further.  I left early, just to make sure that I was there in time for the start of the presentation.  (As luck would have it, they were 45 minutes late starting due to some technical issues, but I was there at 7:45am.  I was proud of myself.

But the drive?  I had no idea when looking at the directions before I set off would lead me down my own personal memory lane.  I was unaware of where I was headed, never realizing that the course I would take this morning would take me back at least 15 years.

I set off and before long, I was in Bedford.  I passed the church that I attended for a long time, the one that had the pastor that I connected with.  I thought about stopping by on my way home, but quickly remembered that I attended his retirement service a little over a year ago.  It was the service where I realized that as an Episcopalian, I thought we never talked about Salvation.  In that service, I realized that we said the word Salvation over 5 times every service.  It was also in that service where I realized that growing up Episcopalian, saying the same things every Sunday, that I just said words.  I never truly understood what I was saying.

I then passed Avenel where my parents held the renewal of their wedding vows on their 25th anniversary.  Their renewal ceremony came at the conclusion of my marriage and the memories of watching my parents, so happy after 25 years when my marriage of  just three failed, came flooding back.  It was hard for me to stand there carrying the barely a year old Samara on my hip while three year old Matthew followed my brother around like a little lost puppy and smile.  It was a cross roads in my life that, looking back was adventageous for me to go through, but a point where I never wish to return.

Going a little further down the road, the scenery started looking familiar to me and it was then that I realized that this was the route my father would take after church on beautiful days to the Peaks of Otter on the Blue Ridge Parkway.  As a child, I hated those drives.  I just wanted to be home.  I had no desire to sit in the car and look at the mountains or the leaves changing or being on a road where the speed limit was 45 mph and people actually adhered to it.  I wanted to be home.  I wanted to be out of the mandatory church clothes that I was forced to wear and enjoying the last bit of my weekend.  All these years later, I am the person that wants to take those drives.  I am fortunate in the fact that my children enjoy them as well, or at least, they pretend like they do and don’t tell me otherwise.  I was not so considerate.

When I passed the sign advertising the Peaks of Otter Winery just 4.6 miles down the road on my left, I was transported back to October when the boy and I went on our first date.  It was there that I called him out on being nervous; where I questioned if it was going to last if he was all over the place and antsy all the time.  A quick, “are you nervous?” out of my mouth followed by a curt, “insanely” out of his established that perhaps he would settle down over time.  The Winery is also where I gave him every opportunity to kiss me, but he never did.

A few miles more, I passed the sign for the Apple Festival where we also went on our first date.  When I passed the Country Store where he held my hand for the first time, I smiled.  He actually asked if it was okay.  We’ve come a long way in nine months and it was nice to be able to think back to that day, to the fun that we had, for it was that day that I started to learn how to just “be” and truth be told, it was extrememly hard for me to sit in the car for a long drive with no particular destination in mind.

I traveled down Route 43 for a little while longer and passed the bed and breakfast where my ex-husband and I spent our wedding night nearly 12 years ago.  That was the night that Princess Di passed in her horrible accident.  I remember very little about the bed and breakfast itself.  We arrived, walked around for a little but since he had fallen and twisted his ankle just a few hours before the wedding, he was in pain.  We laid down on the bed and fell asleep, fully clothed, not awaking until the morning when breakfast was served.  We were home before 11am the next morning.

I knew as I passed the Otter’s Den that I would soon hit the parkway and the Peaks.  It was there that the boy finally got over his nervousness and all it took was the first kiss.  I remember the kiss as just a little one, but it was enough to catch me off guard and lose my footing.  But from then on, he was fine; no longer nervous.  He told me later that the anticipation of that kiss was the cause for his nervousness in which I joked with him for awhile that if that’s all it was he should’ve just kissed me in my driveway that morning as I knew then that I wanted him to.

I thought, after passing the Peaks and travelling the 5 miles of the Parkway that my memories were over; that I had experienced the last for the morning.  It wasn’t until it was time to turn off of the Parkway and when I found myself on 43 in the Jefferson National Forest that I realized that I was where my father brought me to teach me to drive the pick up truck.  It was his philosophy to teach you in an area that was tough so that everywhere else was a cake walk and 43 has nothing but hairpin curves and hills and I might also mention that while it is two lanes, one going in each direction, they are very narrow.  My father had faith after traveling that today.  Even with 15 years of driving under my belt, that stretch of my journey was nerve racking to me.  I can’t imagine sitting in the passenger seat with a 17 year old who didn’t yet have her license and thought that she knew it all.

Making it through the curves, watching my GPS arrow look like it was wigging out going around all those curves, I found myself at the intersection of Parkway Drive and Main Street in Buchanan.  For those of you up north, you might be pronouncing that bUUUcanan.  But not here.  Nope.  Here, in the south, or more specifically around these parts, it’s Bahcanan.  Don’t ask me why.  We have several little townships that aren’t pronounced how I would pronounce them, but it’s the easiest way to tell if someone isn’t from around here.  On my right I saw the hybrid Buger King/Stop In station and there, we used to stop after softball games when we found ourselves traveling to that side of Botetourt (pronounced Bot-E-tot) county.  It wasn’t often, but we knew that we had a good hour’s drive home and we were hungry.  So that’s where we stopped.

It was there that my memory lane trip ended and I found myself on 81 just 7 miles from the conference center.  I called the boy to recount the memories and to share with him what I had seen.  On the way home this afternoon, I happened to be on the phone with him when I passed the little country store and said to him, “awww… there’s the country store again where you held  my hand for the first time.”  In disbelief, he asked, “you remember stuff like that?”

And I do.  I remember small things, insignificant things.  I remember things that I’ll never really need to know again.  I can tell you what I wore to New York City on my 8th grade field trip but I have trouble looking at one of the four kids and calling them by the right name.  I don’t even think I can tell you what I wore yesterday short of the to-die-for heels that kill my feet, yet I still wear them anyway.

Now, in addition to this being a trip that flooded my brain with memories of my past, I have to tell you that this was truly a trip through God’s country.  I was able to sit back and take in the wonder, not only of what He has created here, but what He’s done in my life through the years.

I have to be honest… I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow morning!

Originally posted at Desperately Seeking Sanity June 4, 2009

We all know that Heather Jacobson is not a patient person and right now, in addition to waiting on these darn flowers and plants to bloom, I find myself waiting on so many more aspects of my life.

I just wait.  I try so hard to be patient; I really do.

No, really, I do.

But I just feel like right now I’m in this holding pattern.

Which is okay, but I’m also not as strong as I have been in the past, although I’m getting back on track thanks to some amazing people at church who take the time to ask me a simple question… “how are you?”

Now that I work in the office and not at home, I have some time in the car to think and talk to God.  Most of the time, I’m talking to Him about how people just do NOT know how to drive.  I mean, seriously, does no one know how to merge?  Sometimes I wonder.

Anywho, in the car the other morning, as I was actually paying attention to God, and I was going on and on and on about how I’ve been trying so hard to do what I’m supposed to be doing and He’s making me wait.  Waah…. But in the background a song started playing on the radio.

I caught one section of the song and stopped dead in my tracks.  Well, not really dead in my tracks, but you know what I mean.

Now, I have to tell you… I’ve heard this song a million times but I’ve never *heard* it.  Ya know what I mean?

I’m waiting
I’m waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I’m waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Takeing every step in obedience
While I’m waiting
I will serve You
While I’m waiting
I will worship
While I’m waiting
I will not faint
I’ll be running the race
Even while I wait

I’m waiting
I’m waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I’m waiting on You, Lord
Though it’s not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait
I will serve You while I’m waiting
I will worship while I’m waiting
I will serve You while I’m waiting
I will worship while I’m waiting
I will serve you while I’m waiting
I will worship while I’m waiting on You, Lord

Think he was trying to tell me something?

I’m listening, God.  I’m waiting, too.  But seriously… is the wait almost over for all these things?

Originally posted at Desperately Seeking Sanity May 20, 2009

I cannot start this post stating that today was the worst day of my life, although I would really like to.  But if my mother read this, she would state, quite clearly, that it couldn’t be the worst day of my life because I already had that years ago… several times.  (That’s the great thing about my mother and something I remember fondly about her.  I would come home and say, “I had the worst day of my life!” and over time, and as the drama escalated in my life, she would just look at me and say, “It couldn’t have been the worst day of your life.  You had that last week.”  My God.  I love my mother.)

So I can’t say that it was the worst day of my life, and quite honestly?  It wasn’t.  I could peg a few days in my life that WERE in contention for the title and if what happened today is the worst thing that happens, then I’m truly blessed.  (Remember now, I’m of the fake it til ya make it mentality and 9 times out of 10, it works.  So let’s pray, for the sake of my sanity, that this is one of those 9 times, m’kay?)

Work (and yes I know that I still owe you a post about that) wasn’t bad per se, but it was a little on the hectic side.  I was late leaving the office and when calling the boy to let him know that I was swinging by Wendy’s (we have Wendy’s Wednesdays — it’s the only night that we eat out and I can feed 6 for $13.60.  I know, impressive right?)

Anywho, he’s at the ball field with all the kids and they are having a good time.  I have no problem with that, however, remember my rant yesterday?  My epiphany on why I write?  Happened again today.  The problem?

Today, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind and as a result I let it affect me.  So, in turn, I allowed myself to have a little pity party.  And of course, when I communicated this with him, he felt horrible and we started apologizing all over each other.  (Hey!  I told you we’re gross.)

I wasn’t mad at him.  It was me.  I know the truth.  I know reality.  But I allowed myself to get all bummed out.

And since we’re in between youth pastors at the moment, it’s all me at church and I’m worn out.  I knew it when I woke up this morning and while I had my lesson prepared, the boy suggested we go play kickball.  I agreed.  I figured it might help me and it was such a pretty day outside.  However, I will admit, I was still not in the normal “Heather mood”.

Due to the fact that I won’t expose members of my youth group without their permission, I won’t go into too much detail, however I can state that by the time youth was over, I had a knock out, drag down with one of my youth kids, another tiff with the boy and I walked into the Prayer Meeting as it was ending, hauled Pastor Man out and proceeded to lose it in his office.  And when I say lose it?

Oh it was bad.  I mean really bad.  Like snot flying out of my nose bad.  I had every intention of telling him that I was done.  I wanted to tell him that I would stick it out until the new youth pastor came aboard but that I was done.  I wanted to scream and say, “I’m tired of having a servant’s heart because all it’s doing is stressing me out.”

But the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.  I tried.  I tried hard.  I’ve overcome so much in the past year and I’ve kept my head held high.  He said some very nice things about me to the congregation last week.  Or so I hear.  I was in the nursery with eleven kids and why any one thought I would be able to hear the service on the little TV in there is beyond me.  But he told people about my heart and about my passion.  He shared with them that they don’t see the things that I do, rather just the side of me that’s in service on Sunday.  He mentioned that I had lunch with them and emailed them and the like and I wish I could’ve heard it.  As someone with a love language of words of affirmation, it would’ve boosted me, but, I don’t do this for recognition.  I do this because I have a calling.  I am called to capture young hearts for the kingdom and so even though I WANTED to say screw it, I couldn’t.

After we prayed and I removed all traces of snot from my face I looked at him and said, “I don’t think I’ve had a conversation in here with you since the very first time I met you. And please don’t tell anyone that I cried.”

I also go the sermonette on how I don’t have to be the tough girl all the time.  Heard it before.  I’m just not a crier.

Anywho, I talked to the parents.  I rounded up the kids and I headed back to retrieve Matthew from the boy’s house.  I was spent.  It’s how I get when I release the snot.  I didn’t want to be around anyone, not because I was in a foul mood, but because I just had no energy.  I dead headed my petunias, searched for new blooms on my daisies and realized that the plants were in need of water and I’m almost ashamed to say this…

It was therapeutic.

Please don’t tell the boy I said that.  Or my mother.  Let’s just keep that between us, k?  Thanks much.

Anywho, the boy and Matthew and Samara were throwing the ball around and all of a sudden I heard, “That was in the face,” followed closely by, “I feel blood!  I feel blood!”

I had no energy to rush to Matthew’s side.  None.  But I didn’t really need to have any as the boy quickly ushered him in the house and I followed.  He had it under control and we all know how I don’t do blood.  My contribution to the clean up and fix up was to grab a bag of frozen corn out of the freezer and offered it up as an ice pack.

I know.. mother of the year, right?

My deepest apologies, Matthew.  I just couldn’t handle it right then, and since the boy had things under control, I let him handle it.

It wasn’t until we were getting ready to leave and I asked to see his mouth that I realized we’re going to have to go to the dentist tomorrow.  The tooth is crooked and the boy says that the gum will tighten up around it but it’s going to be crooked.  Samara’s response was, “braces will fix it” and while that’s true, even though I really can’t afford to make a trip to the dentist, it’s cheaper than braces.

Hey Dave Ramsey?  Did you hear that?  I’m making wise financial choices.

I left the boy’s house feeling dejected, sorry for myself, alone.  I came home to vent, whine and complain about all the things that went wrong today.  I wanted to continue my pity party and invite all of you to join me.

However, let me tell you the good things that happened today…

I get to blog at work.  Seriously.  I was asked today to blog on the company blog.  So I’m getting paid to twitter and blog!  How freakin’ awesome is that?

What’s more?  I got the nicest compliments from two of the gentlemen that I work with.  In fact, I told the boy that when I grow up, I want to be the woman that J and S think I am.

And then?  When I got to youth, one of my girls came up to me and said, “Heather, I just wanted to let you know that I told that boy that I couldn’t talk to him anymore.  I love you and value your opinion.”

PTL!!!  Someone’s paying attention to me.  Someone listened to me!

And then?  After my public apology to the members of my youth group for the events of the evening, one of the gals said, “I still love you, Heather.”  And her dad?  Oh her dad is wonderful.  He asked if he needed to address anything at home and when I said no, I started to tear up again.  He just opened his arms and gave me the biggest teddy bear hug.

I was reflecting upon these things in the short drive home and when we pulled in the driveway, there was a box on the porch.  It was plants.  And all of a sudden my heart sank.  I didn’t want more dirt and roots.  What a bummer, right?

Guess what?

Guess what was in that box labeled “this side up”?

Live plants.  With flowers even.  Seriously!  This is what was in that box!

Ok, so that’s not what they look like now, but after I plant them, and they grow a little bit, that’s what they’ll look like… if I keep them alive long enough…

So now I have plants and color and the like.

So was today a terrible, horrible, no good day?

Could be… if I allow it to be.  Quite honestly, I know it’s an attack.  Satan can suck it for all I care.

I’m not going to let him win.  Nope, not me.

To the victor goes the spoils and as a Child of God, that means me.  (Don’t you love that?  Totally lifted it from the devotion I shared with my youth group tonight.)

But at least I got some blog fodder.

To all my twitter friends… thank you.  When I voiced my feelings on not being heard, you were there… listening.  It’s what I needed.  I am ever so grateful.