... desperate no more.

... desperate no more

It has been a bit since I've sat at my laptop to scribble down my thoughts. My oh my, there has been so much rattling around in my head, but I had lost my moxie friends.  I didn't have the courage to write.  You see, for several years I have been going through a "rough patch."  I became the opposite of my tag line, I became quite desperate.

Anxiety and depression are evil. They invade your heart, mind and soul.  They make everything seem gray; riddle your bones with fatigue; and for me, they paralyzed my creativity.

I once drafted a blog about why I was the not-so-desperate-housewife.  It told a tale of a woman who loved the Lord with all her heart, who sought to serve others, who's greatest desire was to bring abounding joy where ever she went.  I never published that draft, and about 4 years ago the ugly effects of anxiety and depression took hold of me.

There was a series of events which led to the unraveling of this housewife. I can be a long winded gal, ask anyone who has chatted me up and gotten cornered.  I won't bore you with the day-by-day details, rather I'll give a brief sequence of events since the spring of 2012.

-Our family experienced a great big hurt, in regards to our youngest son, whom is eccentrically, beautifully, and wonderfully made by the father of the heavenly lights. (James 1:17)

-Our oldest son, a big heart'd caring sweet boy, had to change his place of employment(school) too.

-Our hearts were ripped to ribbons as we lost our friends, our social network, and what we had believed to be our tribe of Christ-like witnesses.

-I first reacted rather loudly, being out spoken, wearing my feelings on my

sleeve, and not backing down.  Offending many in a community where you should be seen, not heard. It was believed things should be swept under the rug.

-I began to feel the effects of it all in an extremely emotional way, and I began to isolate.

-I stopped advocating for my sons in their education, not wanting to be the squeaky wheel any longer.

-I allowed the hurt of our families' abandonment to trigger my hang-up of anxiety and depression.

-I stopped writing, not wanting to share the thoughts of my soul with others.

-We traveled to amazing places around America and Canada, that I didn't digitally journal about (blog) for my sons to read when they are grown.

-We updated our "family goals" (refer to past blog .... dream), http://tales-of-a-not-so-desperate-housewife.blogspot.com/2011/04/dreams.html

-We bought a boat, taught the boys to wake surf, snow ski; enjoying the great outdoors in a new way.  We bought a FedEx type delivery van. The hubs gutted and fabricated it to be our mobile command center, as we took sojourns camping, rock climbing, glacier hiking, exploring God's green earth ... but these were all external things, fun joy inducing activities. They were not they things that cultivate the soul.

But friends, here is how I became desperate.  I was mad at God.  I yelled and screamed at him at times when I was driving in my car alone.  We drifted away from an amazing church home, that is actively reaching the disconnected to show them the love of Jesus.  http://www.faithchurchonline.org/
I stopped reading the word.  We, both the hubs & I, stopped taking care of our health and our bodies showed the evidence. I let my heart become sardonic, bitter, and resentful.

What have I done to have a change of heart?  Well, it was really all about the people God placed on my path.  The faithful who showed up, who drug

me along kicking and screaming, who were obedient to God and followed His command... "Just be

her friend."

A small tribe of women, wouldn't stop showing up.  Even as I tried to be ugly, to get them to ditch me, they persevered.  They showed up at my house unannounced.
(gasp, was the house clean? Probably not.)
They made pots of coffee, brought baked goods, folded baskets of unattended laundry.  They drug me out to lunch, took me on joint grocery fetching field-trips (I would rarely leave the house alone, agoraphobic?... very close).  They were Jesus wrapped in skin.  They loved me when I was unlovable.  They were true and constant friends for my husband and children in our direst of times.  Gradually, God used them to mend our broken hearts.

There are many tales to tell about healthy life changes I had to make along this path of healing, but those may be told on a different day.  Today, I need to tell you I am back in the word; I am fellowship-ing with a tribe of believers; I am worshiping the one true God in a place  I feel loved, a place I feel safe being my broken self, a place where the Holy Spirit breaths into me, and I am learning from a pastor who obediently allows the Holy Spirit to speak through him.
http://www.demottefirstnaz.com/sermon-podcasts/

Is life perfect?  Am I miraculously healed from my emotional aliments? The answer is, nope.  I am a work in progress, finding contentment in being perfectly imperfect.  I have days when anxiety creeps in, but I notice it now.  My tribe of accountability people notice it too.  I spend time identifying my anxieties trigger.  I use healthy tools to restore my soul to peace.

My cloud of witnesses, my tribe.

"A tale of lifelong learning with the hubster..."

I've been doing some "research" & drafting for a new blog for my Agape2Learn website.
We should all continue to learn: even in the summer; even after high school; even after college. Here is my first attempt of penning a learning adventure the hubs and I had a while back.
Stay tuned for further adventures with the fellers (child centered learning), and the whole clan (family focused learning).
So get off the couch, turn off the laptop, and get out there an live life loving learning.

Click on link below to read about our tour of the Kentucky bourbon trail.
http://agape2learn.blogspot.com/?m=1

"Birds of a Feather"...

They exited the school; two adolescent 7 year-olds, armed with a sheet of Big Chief notepaper.

I was picking my youngest up from elementary school on an autumn Friday afters.  Fridays are a favorite at our house; an ice cream treat from DQ, viewing borrowed movies from the library, a later bedtime as we are rebels against our weekly routine.

The 2nd grade offspring was chatting up a fellow classmate.  The beginnings of a friendship.
I recognized the boy from a field trip I chaperoned a few weeks prior.  He had sat in the bus seat in front of us.  I asked my son how his day was and what was in his hand.

The youngest replied, "This is Mason, and I asked him to swap phone numbers so we can call his mom for a play date."

Scrawled on the Big Chief were this boys seven digit number, and he clutched the same with ours.  The

classmate was being picked up by his grandma; a weekend sleepover.  The grandma leaned into me and whispered, "He's a little different." I smiled; my son had found a friend.  I inquired what had prompted the number swap?

"He just looked like he could us a friend Mom," was his reply.

Again the grandma whispered, "I guess he could use a friend."  I secured the mothers cell phone number and we headed out to enjoy our separate weekends.  I later texted the classmates mother, explaining the Big Chief pages and asking if they would like to come
for a play date, and the friendship was born.

My youngest is a little awkward, like a 30-something man in an adolescent body; possessing a high IQ. In the past fifteen months, he has been diagnosed with ADHD and SPD, Sensory Processing Disorder.  He has had to begin the process of gaining the coping skills he wasn't wired with in order to fit in to our societies definition of "normal."

What makes me a proud mama, is that my son independently befriended a boy in need.  Just like he has been in need so many times.  He was compassionate and Christ-like and saw a boy (now his best buddy) through the eyes of Jesus.

...she's back, & still not-so-desperate...

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with two dear friends; spiritual mentors really. We have been reading the book A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans, & have a sudo Bible Study/Book Club discussion.  As mothers, we are always multi-tasking.  Out of our 3 book discussions, 2 have been in the minivan intransit to a Cost Co run.

Discussing our spiritual journeys, & who the Lord is shaping us to be has made me realize how much I miss writing to you all.  I miss talking about what the Lord's been up to & how He is weaving His word into the path I'm pitter-patter-ing on.

My fellers and I have been on an interesting journey the past 10+ months.  It has been a journey of heart break and healing... of seeking strength and shoulders to cry on... of persevering and being in tune with what the Lord is up to... through the "good, bad & ugly."  I experienced a sort of writer's block as the Lord bandaged us up; and that is why you have not been privy to any 'tales.'

So dear readers, f you are interested in what's rambling around in my head.... and wish for me to plunk it out on the keyboard... leave a comment including your email address.

I have been invited to blog on Story Lane & may take a gander at it... I'm still praying and waiting for the Lord's nudging or reining in...

..."2nd Annual Peterson Prairie Camp-out..."

The fellers and I have been on a prairie sojourn. We drove the 16+ hours to Grandma's little house on the prairie; pit stopping in Kansas City for the fellowship of a couple 'dear young' friends & mentors.

Spring has sprung on the prairie.  Last spring break, the fellers packed their pup-tent & sleep cells. They wanted to camp out in Grandma & Grandpa's wind break... they felt deprived from their lack of camping in Indiana.  Last years camp-out brought a morning waking up to a frosty tent... 23 degrees, and a second night in nature we endured 50 mile-an-hour winds, blowing the canopy off.


This spring has been unseasonably warm in the Midwest, when packing we had to trade shorts & tank tops for the usual jeans & sweatshirts. The night before our departure, the fellers loaded their camping gear into the land yacht.


The morning after our arrival at the grands, the fellers got everything set up.  They rested in their sacks (that's comparative to a snake in a pillowcase), set up and swung in Grandpa's portable hammock.  They were ready for their evening in the great outdoors.


That afternoon my mother, sister and I hosted a baby shower for my brother's wife, anticipating the arrival of our little McBaby this summer.  The fellers got hauled to the cattle pasture to work on putting up fence.  They returned in the late afternoon, sun & wind burnt.... tuckered out. After feasting on Grandpa's BBQ and left over baby shower cake, they were rejuvenated & wanted to camp.

The camp ground they had so carefully made had been blown over by the high Kansas winds.  We un-steaked the tent, drug it to the north end of the house hoping it would act as a wind break and prepared to camp.  The shortest feller was so pooped out he drifted off to dreams as soon as his head hit the sod.  The tall one is the worrier.  He worried about the wind.... hearing a coyote (which was actually a squeaky nearby oil well), thought he heard footsteps ( the farm guard dog just keeping tabs on us).


To calm him and slow the gears of his brain I engaged him in chatter.  We talked about life and dreams... until finally he said, "Ok mom, I've had enough talking." And he drifted off to dreamland as well.


I took a Lunesta to try to catch some shut eye.  The Western Kansas wind picked up.... it flapped the tent all night.  It is no wonder all of my bedtime dreams & childhood memories are extremely windy!


The fellers slept through sunrise, the morning greetings of the meadowlarks... not arousing until 7:30 a.m.


The tent looked like a refugee camp.  Everybody was cockeyed in their sacks, caddy-corner on the airmatress' we shared.


The next afternoon I asked the taller feller if they were going to campout that evening.  "Na, I think I need a good nights rest tonight,"he retorted.


The last few weeks have been some of the toughest for our family... on the fellers, the hubs & me.  I am on the road to recovery, seeking the Lords healing for the wounds.  Our prairie campout reminds me that if we rest fully in the Lord, we will see the joy in the morning.

Psalm 30:5

New International Version (NIV)

⁵ For his anger lasts only a moment,
   but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may stay for the night,
   but rejoicing comes in the morning.

Life is about enjoying the small stuff.... about finding the joy in the journey & appreciating the little things, because one day when I look back they will be the BIG things.

..."spring has sprung..."

To rouse the fellers I sing... "Good morning, good morning, good morning today." As I open their room-darkening-blinds.

Some mornings are ugly at our house, so I try my hardest to sprinkle them with kindness to boost the moral.

This morning, March 20, the short feller declared, "Today's the first day of Spring... due to it being a Leap Year & the speed at which the earth rotates on it's axis as it revolves around the sun... Spring starts one day early this year."  ... our little Einstein.

So we're going to have a Celebrate Spring Day this afternoon.  When asked what kind of after school snack they would like, the short feller replied pie... cherry & pumpkin (a boy after his father's heart). The tall feller requested, cookie dough ice cream (a boy after his Grandpa's heart).

Everyone at our casa has the glow spring brings.  The birds have returned to the woods, chirping up a storm as I let the mutts out at
5:30 a.m.  The Mutts are sunbathing on the deck as I type, tuckered out from their morning wrestling match.  The cats are lounging around, rubbing their pheromones on everything.... I even found a todd while weeding a flowerbed last evening.

How are you saying good bye to winter and celebrating Spring?  Are you cleaning out closets, donating your cast offs to the needy?  ... getting outdoors to walk or exercise? ... washing the windows inside and out?  ... pulling the "weeds" out of the garden of your life?


Spring is a time of renewal.  A time of birth... rebirth.

After I walked the dogs and came in the house to brew some coffee, I felt something crawling on my hair... a lady bug had hitched a ride.

Take some time to listen to how the Lord wants you to celebrate spring .... He has invited you to hitch a ride for eternal life...
... bloom into what He has in store for you.

..."what happens @...stays @..."

What happens at Grandma's ... stays at Grandmas. Or in the fellers case this week, what happens with grandma visiting ... stays between them.

The hubs and I are out of state on business... learning how to better feed America. Catching up with business associates who have long ago become friends.

Notice how the mutt's have trampled my lawn!

The morning after the grands arrival, (delayed flight, & we rolled in at 2:00a.m.) the fellers set the woods on fire.  An innocent mishap... the hubs lets them use his plumbers propane torch to make little camp fires at their fort.  They had started a fire in our metal fire pit, were adding large cardboard boxes for kindling (from the weeks Costco, hunting & gathering). There was a slight breeze... a chunk of ignited cardboard became airborne & landed in the dead-leaf-encrusted-woods-floor....

I thought it was comical; taking a picture for facebook.... then it started to spread.  Grandma advised I grab a bucket... the hubs came running out in shorts & knee high rubber waders.  We unrolled the winterized garden hoses and extinguished the flames.

Before our departure the short feller inquired, "Are we still grounded from fire?"

Yes .... and all testosterone related contraband.... pocket knives... BB-guns...
Honda 50 motorcycle... go-cart ... AND of course fire.

Grandma has been loving her grad-fellers through food.  Fried chicken & mashed taters the first night... monster cookies today...

When we first moved to Indiana, 14 hours & 4 states away from Grandma, my mother sent me a newspaper clipping of a Family Circus cartoon.

I've kept it on my fridge over the pat 8 years.  It's caption reads, "Grandma's coming for a sleepover!"

It stinks being so far from family.  The fellers only get to see their grands a handful of times a year, but absence DOES make the heart grow fonder.

My boys get to have their grandparents on their own turf & to visit the grandparents each summer for a week or so at their home.... with out the hubs and I around to boss everyone.

If we lived in the same state, the sleepovers would be shorter... not the treat they are to us.

We stay in touch via FaceTime chat most Sundays (a tradition my folks adopted 19 years ago when I left for college, to check in once a week to make sure I was still breathing.)

We return home tomorrow.... it'll be cute to hear the stories unfold over the days following.  The hubs hopes the house is still standing... I hope that the fellers & more importantly Grandma ... are still breathing.


Proverbs 10:1
New International Version (NIV)

Proverbs of Solomon

 ¹ The proverbs of Solomon:

   A wise son brings joy to his father,
   but a foolish son brings grief to his mother.