Obligatory New Year's Ramblings

2015. Two thousand fifteen. FIFTEEN. I don't know why that number seems so huge to me. The obvious mathematical truth is that it is exactly one more that FOURteen, and yet it feels like suddenly I'm living in the future. Like we've been taking baby steps away from the giant year of 2000 and we just took a huge running leap forward from 12.31.14 and 1.1.15. I think it might have something to do with 2015 being a year used as a "projection year" while I was in school. As in "By the year 2015, the population of Whoozitzstan is estimated to be 40 quadrillion" or "We think that 1 in 5 Herblitz will be schmelged in 2015." Or possibly I've been pushed to the brink with this crazy-making job and I've started losing it. Who can tell?

Anyway, I have some thoughts about what I'd like 2015 to be like. "Resolutions" is too strong a word. Even "goals" seems like I'm pushing it. Thoughts. Wishes? Ehhh, here's what I'd like from 2015:

• A new job
• Good LORD Almighty, I would love for 2015 to be the last year in a long stretch of years in which I stop wishing for a new job. I would like to get one, enjoy it, and leave the wishing for sometime around 2020. Maybe.
• Less poundage
• I'm not going to get into numbers or an actual plan, because that has not really panned out for me in the past. But I would like to weigh less (possibly significantly less) on this date in 2016.
• To stand up for myself more
• Like I put on twitter the other day, what I really wish for is that people would be kinder to me this year and I would have to do less standing up for myself. But since I can only control me, I would like to set more boundaries and stand up for myself. In the tail end of 2014, I did this a little and it felt good. There's been some fallout that has sucked, but even then I was contented in knowing that I had done all I could to take care of myself. I'd like to keep doing that.
• To read my Bible more
• This sounds like such a Christian cliche, but it's so necessary in my life. Like exercise, I always feel better after I do it and yet I find a lot of reasons not to. I'm doing this reading plan through my church called Join the Journey. I really want to read every entry, even if I don't get to them on the day they're intended. By this time next year, I will have read the whole Bible, which I somewhat shamefully admit I have never done before. I claim to believe it all, but I haven't read it all? Let's change that.
• A new place to live
• Likely as not I will be moving back in with Bean when my lease is up. My apartment has been adequate, but there are a lot of issues that management won't deal with (using heat/AC makes my entire apartment stink of cigarette smoke which makes me cough and get stuffed sinuses, but it's Texas, so I have 100 degree days and 20 degree days and kind of need to be able to regulate temperature). Plus, I just love the stuffing out of Bean & Co, so why not spend more time there if they're willing to have me? However, if I manage to find a new job that pays well enough, I'll get a new place of my own that is very near to them instead.
• A....husband?
• That's probably dreaming too big, but MAN it would be really nice to meet someone and fall in love and share my life with them.

So that's my navel gazing New Year's post and it's ONLY eight days into 2015. Not too shabby for someone who posted 7 times in 2014.

Struggle

It's been a long time since I posted much of anything here, but it's definitely been awhile since I updated anything about my life in general. Life is really hard right now. I'm learning to count my blessings and focus on the good things and to struggle well. But life is pretty tough right now.

I'm looking for a new job. Again. I don't know why I've been walking in circles since I graduated college or why I need to experience same frustrations in every job I take, but apparently there's some lesson the be learned here. I really hope I learn it soon.

This job has been difficult form the start and just keeps getting harder. I hesitate to say anything too specific here because the last time I wrote about a boss, he read it and I feel quite a bit of shame for how it must have hurt him. It was the truth, but it was also angry and bitter and unkindly put. So, if there's one lesson I've learned, it's to be kinder on this blog. And the kindest way to put this is that I am not a good fit for this ministry and this ministry is not a good fit for me. There are many things that could change and would make my life a lot easier and make this place much more pleasant, but there is little chance of that happening right now, so I'm looking for a new place to be.

Job hunting is awful. It just is. I don't know of anyone who has enjoyed this process. I have been on three in-person interviews and countless phone interviews. I have been assessed and judged and found wanting again and again. Many people never even contact me again, which is disheartening and rude. Note to Hiring Managers: if we've had a face-to-face conversation, it's not too much to ask for an email or a phone call saying "No, thank you." Also, if you elect not to hire me and say some pretty tough things in the rejection, perhaps you should not, in the same paragraph, ask me to like you on Facebook. Just a thought.

Anyway, here's a snapshot: I went on an interview this last Friday that was...a frustrating waste of time. The job was a technical editor position for a microchip manufacturing firm. Now, obviously, this is a highly specialized and technical place and describing what they do might bore certain people. But when the guy in charge of MARKETING the firm sounds bored when explaining the job to me, that's not a good sign. Also the online job description and the job described at the interview were significantly different from one another and my resume no longer fit what they were looking for. The whole time, the interviewer and the HR person acted like they had no idea why I was there. YOU called ME, people.

As I was leaving this disappointing meeting, I discovered my first grey hair. If you'd asked me before that day what I thought about grey hair, I would have shrugged and said something about natural aging is beautiful and I should own it and maybe worrying about it is a little vain (but not in a judgey way). Instead, I burst into tears. I don't actually care about my hair. I'm blond enough that it wasn't really obvious and it will be a long while before the grey outnumber the blond and becomes noticeable. It was the juxtaposition of feeling very lonely and wondering if I was ever going to meet someone one and feeling ridiculously self-conscious about the fact that I'm 27 and I've never been kissed AND grey hair that made it so difficult. So, first grey hair before first kiss. That felt good.

Anyway, I've been feeling pretty down lately. Work is hard, hour by hour. There is less and less freedom in my workplace and more and more frustration. My favorite coworker resigned last week to go have her baby, which is fraught with many layers of sadness for me. I go home to an empty one bedroom apartment I can barely afford. And no one seems to want to hire me.

I don't have an ending for this post that is hopeful. I don't have it in me today. This is where I am, learning to struggle well. I'm frequently asking myself the question "If this is all there is, is God enough?" And if I'm being really honest, right now the answer is "not really." I'm getting there. I want Him to be enough. But today, I'm feeling pretty discontented. I want to believe this will get better, but there are no guarantees in life. This life I'm living is by no means awful. It's just less than I thought I would have. Which is, admittedly, a very entitled way of looking at the world. Again, there are no guarantees in this life, so I wasn't even promised this much. On my better days, I'm grateful for even this much. I'm trying to make today one of those days.

The Greatest of These Is Love

It's way past my bedtime. I should be asleep, not stewing over these words in my head. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Work is hard. Life is hard. The news headlines are hard. There are a lot of voices out there saying a lot of unkind, hateful, or thoughtless words about complex and nuanced issues. Maybe I'm just adding my voice to cacophony. Or maybe someone will hear and something will change. Maybe I will listen and learn and change.

I believe in a loving God. A big God. A righteous, faithful, good God. Sometimes, these truths are hard to hold on to. I'm struggling to believe them right this second. My head knows it and those I trust continue to speak it into my life, but the whispers are loud in my heart saying He isn't good, He won't provide, I'm too broken for His love or anyone else's, I am alone and worthless and cannot expect anything more from life than what I have right this second. These are lies, if only I can remember that.

This is not a post about depression. This is not a post about mental illness or mental health. I do not have any authority or much experience from which to speak about those subjects. This post is about love. It's about how we speak to and about one another. It's about how we speak to and about one another in the broader context of the major issues of our times.

Once upon a time, it was my job to know, study, and have an opinion about every current event and political issue raging in our world today. I have four years and 245 credits of education that claim I know a little bit about that arena. In all honesty, I know very little. I have a combined 20 months of work experience in a very small sector of a portion of the industry known as politics. The thing that drove me away from that line of work was watching as the political and media machine tore us all limb from limb and turned us into people who looked nothing like Christ, though many of us claimed to serve Him. I watched people who deeply believed that their words didn't matter, that how and when they said them didn't matter. Or, worse, that their right to say them mattered more than the person to whom they were speaking.

Here is the one thing I know: no matter what the issue is, not matter how strongly you believe you are right, and no matter how much of the law or the Constitution or even scripture is on your side, you are WRONG when you cease to see your opponent or adversary or "enemy" as anything less than a human being created in the image of a holy and eternal God.

So God created man in his own image,

    in the image of God he created him;

    male and female he created them. - Genesis 1:27 ESV 

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. - 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 ESV

Pick an issue, any issue. That issue has AT LEAST two sides. Those sides are made up of people. People with hopes and dreams and families and hearts and who are made and loved by the Creator of the Universe. No matter the circumstances of their birth, the color of their skin, the choices they have made in life, or the things they believe, they are loved by God and are extended the same redemption through Christ that I do not merit but am so blessed to have received.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:8-10 ESV

If we just stopped for just one second and considered compassion, considered grace, considered love, how would that change the conversation? The definition of love is important here, for sure. Love is not always (and is perhaps rarely) about warm, happy feelings. Love is a choice. Love is telling the truth no matter how hard it is to hear in order to bring about healing, restoration, and growth in someone's life. Love is making the choice to come back time after time and forgive and reconcile and work things out. Love is seeing a person as they truly are and committing to walk with them on the hard journey to who you know they can become. Love is being vulnerable and open enough to allow someone else to do these things for you.

But most of all, love is about seeing a person as God sees them.

For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. - 1 Samuel 16:7b ESV

In the midst of this, I feel compelled to take a tangent just to say that you, YES YOU, were created in the image and likeness of God. You are loved by Him. It doesn't matter if you know Him or serve Him or reject Him. He created you. Specifically and uniquely created you to be unlike anyone He ever created before or ever will again. You are here for a reason. Please don't ever let the lies talk you out of that. Please.

With all of this in mind, can we, for the literal love of God, speak to one another with kindness and compassion and mercy and love? Can we take a breath before speaking and think about the impact of our words? Can we imagine our audience as a real person, whole and full of thoughts and ideas and insights and inspirations, who is more than their beliefs or ideas about the particular issue we happen to be discussing in that moment? Can we pretend we are speaking to Christ himself?

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ - Matthew 25:40 NIV

And lest you imagine me over here preaching with my finger waving interrogatively (which I sincerely hope you see is the exact opposite of my heart in this moment), please know I am mostly speaking to my own broken and rebellious heart, which sees enemies in every corner and believes my ideas are right by the simple virtue of me being the one who had them. I just keep thinking there has to be a better way. A way to live without all this bitterness and anger. So this is my prayer for me, for all of us:

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. - Colossians 3:12-14 NIV

Fragile Adulting

I wrote that post the other day about wanting to make some changes. And then I did nothing differently for about two weeks. Finally, last Monday, I told my Community Group that I really need some help getting healthy. I need the accountability that I used to get a WW meetings. And it was like a switch flipped. None of them have yet "held me accountable," since tonight is the first time I'll see them since I asked. But just knowing they can and will ask me has given me the last little nudge I needed to get moving.

I don't know why it's so hard for me to get mentally engaged with this kind of thing. I know people who set goals or make plans and then they just...do them. They...do the work. My brain doesn't work like that. I so dearly wish it did. It's funny, because I totally did that with school: "I'm going to take this class and get this grade and learn this thing to get into this class to get into a good college and yada yada yada." And I did and it was simple. Note I did not use the word "easy." But apparently, without the structure of school with measurable goals and quantifiable achievements, I just kind of flail around hopelessly.

Which is all very silly, because some of my goals are VERY quantifiable and measurable. I want to lose 100 pounds in the next 12-18 months. Quantifiable. Measurable. But not simple and definitely not easy. To do that, I have to get so many other things in place and in motion. But I've made some simple and some not-so-simple changes that I hope will help create the kind of environment where I can achieve some of my goals. It's all very new (less than one week, you'll remember) and fragile, but it's working so far and it all feels very adultish.

Elise's "Get Off Your Butt and DO Things" Lifestyle Change of Goals and Chicken (a lot of chicken)

1. Bedtime is 9:30 pm
• I've done this in the past and never stuck to it longer than a night or two, but getting up early to exercise has me tired enough to stick to it. So far, going strong.
2. Respect the alarm clock - only one snooze allowed 
• I'm a chronic snoozer. It's gotten pretty bad recently, bot the other day, I realized that I wasn't feeling any more rested with 40 or so more minutes of very interrupted sleep. So I'm only allowing myself one snooze. Then I'm up no matter what. 
3. Out of bed by 6:00 am
• I need to be to work at 8:00 am. The drive is about 10 minutes. This alarm gives me time for a 30-ish minute walk, a shower, breakfast, lunch and/or dinner prep, quiet time, and getting ready for work. When I type it all out like that, it looks exhausting and busy, but it's pretty relaxed. I've never thought of myself as a morning person (I don't hate morning, but I'm really more of a night owl), but this helps me get my mind and heart ready for what is likely to be a ridiculous/annoying/frustrating day at work.
4. Walk 1.5-2.5 miles a day
• I use an app called MapMyWalk. I've designed several routes around my neighborhood (varying-length loops). In the morning, I pick one and go. I'm challenging myself to go farther and faster every day, but I'm limited to 30-40 minutes. I start out in mostly dark, but it's almost always light by the time I get home. I had a plan for 20 miles in April, but then I sat on my butt for two weeks. I'm at 11.8, so it's unlikely. 
5. Quiet time
• My church is collectively reading through the New Testament, 12 verses at a time. There's an email with the scripture and a short devotional. I write some thoughts in a journal and pray a little. Honestly, this is something I have struggled to do my entire life. I just don't make time to read scripture like I should and I have about a MILLION journals that are blank after the first few pages. I do this first thing after my shower while eating breakfast. So far, this is working for me. I think this is making the most difference in how I deal with work shenanigans. 
6. TV is for nights and weekends only - none after 9:00 pm
• For me, this is the lynch pin. I had no idea how much time I was spending watching Internet TV. I realized it was a huge problem when I would turn on an episode of something while getting ready and would stay to finish it even if it made me a few minutes late for work. Now that I've banished TV to evenings and weekends, I have a lot more time. And I'm spending less of that time on my couch. Also, I've made sure my last episode ends before 9:00 pm. I use any time left over for reading, which was severely lacking in my life--I had no idea how much I missed.
7. Meal plan - always have a plan for lunch
• This one is two-fold: Budgetary and dietary. I eat the same breakfast every day; I have for over six months.So all of my bad food choices were coming at lunchtime. Always having a plan for lunch is the first step in making WW work for me. I've also been pretty ravenous lately (even before adding activity to my life), so I decided sandwiches and salads are not enough. Now I have a dinner plan every night that serves two--one for dinner and one for lunch the next day. I made the plan on Saturday and shopped for only what I would need for this week. My bill was much smaller than usual. Hopefully, I'll throw away a whole lot less food with this strategy. This also involves a lot of boneless, skinless chicken breast because it is cheap and low calorie. I am a not-so-inventive Disguiser of Chicken.

Honestly, so much of this looks like...responsible adulthood. Maybe these things have never been an issue for you, and it looks a little silly that I had to make these rules and list them out like this. For me, these changes are huge! Deep in my core, I am a very lazy, apathetic, gluttonous person. That sounds so ugly and down-on-myself, but hear me as I intend: without thoughtful intervention or dire, immediate consequences, I will almost always chose the thing that is worst for me, take too much of it, and let life just happen to me. That is my natural bent, but it's not who God created me to be and it is not who I want to be. So here's how I'm thoughtfully intervening. 

Character Limits Are My Kryptonite

I was trying to write a tweet today, and I couldn't fit it all into 140 characters and get my point across. I know, no one is surprised by my inability to be brief. It's nothing earth-shattering or ground-breaking, but it might come off as one of those tone-deaf "I am so profound, look at me in my leather armchair near mahogany bookshelves faux-refurbished industrial swivel chair in my chevron-bedecked living room pondering life and using my Voice to impart to you my secret wisdomous thoughts" blog posts that I kind of hate. Or something.

Growing up, my family was very free and liberal with the phrase "I love you." Not in a careless way. We truly, 100% loved each other (even when we hated each other). No matter what was going on, no matter how we behaved, no matter the occasion, we said "I love you." Sometimes, we would say it when someone LEFT THE ROOM. They were coming right back! We knew they were coming right back! And yet, we still made sure they knew it before they left our presence. It's how we say good bye on the phone: "Love you, bye!" We are a very loving family that is not afraid to show it.

This is not to say that our home was paradise or that we never fought. Sister and I shared a room until I was 12, so you can imagine the carnage. We fought like cats and dogs; we BRUISED each other frequently. There was the normal amount of raised voices and tempers and frustrations that any family has. But we never, for one second, doubted our love for one another. A lot of this comes from our faith, which is at its essence built on love. If we truly believe what we say we do, how can we act in any other manner?

Anyway, my point is not to brag about my family, although I do think they are incredible people and I'm so grateful to have been raised in a home like this. My point is, even with never going a day without hearing and saying that phrase, I was fully an adult before I became comfortable with saying it to anyone I was not related to. Maybe this is common? I'm not trying to pull the Special Snowflake card here, I swear. But I remember most of my friends saying "I love you" to boyfriends at an age younger than one would expect someone to HAVE a boyfriend, let a lone be in love (and we can argue about whether they even KNEW what love was at that age at some other time). So maybe this comes from me never having been in a romantic relationship. I've never been in love, so I've never said "I love you" in that way. I don't know.

What I do know is that, despite coming from a loving home and despite growing up in a faith defined by love, I was...embarrassed? hesitant...UNCOMFORTABLE...with telling my friends I loved them. I have no idea why. I maybe thought they would judge me? Like that word was too big and too potent to attach to a normal friendship? Maybe it was a fear that they didn't feel the same way and then we're both left in that awkward space where there's pressure to say it anyway and there's unintended rejection if it isn't said. Maybe I believed, erroneously, that that phrase is only for blood-relatives and romantic love (that would be the dumbest rule ever, if it were true).

And now, nearly 600 words later, I'll tell you that that information? Just ground work for the thought I was trying to tweet earlier. So now you can see why I couldn't fit my idea into 140 characters. THIS is that thought: One of the greatest joys, one of the best discoveries, of my adulthood so far is realizing that I CAN say "I love you" to people who are not related to me and also that I have people in my life to whom I WANT to say it and who willingly say it BACK.

Like I said, probably not earth-shattering. Probably, most of you do this without thinking. But the magic of the Internet is those "me, too!" moments, so I thought maybe I'm not the only one. I have struggled for much of my life (again, despite the loving family and my faith) with feelings of inadequacy and fear of rejection and the expectation that people do not actually want me around. Typing it out like that, it sounds so WOE IS ME, but it's not like that. It's just this stupid, insidious, ugly thought that creeps into my thoughts when I'm in a group of people or spending time in someone else's home: "They don't actually like me or want me here. They're just putting up with me. It's an obligation to them. I'd better leave before I make it awkward for them to ask me to go." Ugh. Not pretty. And not true for most situations.

So the fact that I have people in my life who are not biologically programmed to love me, people who are not only willing to spend time with me, but are willing to say out loud that they LOVE me? That's pretty much the best thing ever. I still hesitate infinitesimally before I say it sometimes. Or I allow them to say it first, just to be sure. I'm still pretty awkward with it (although I would submit that there is very little with which I am NOT awkward). But it's become so common that I almost take it for granted. That's what hit me today. How normal and average and unremarkable it seemed to me when my friend said it right before she hung up the phone yesterday. Because it actually isn't--it's really rather extraordinary. I hope you this in your life, too.

How Does One Sneeze at 25 Pounds?

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that work is a little crazy right now. More than a little crazy. Stabby, Ragey, and Resentful, to name a few of the lesser-known dwarves (spell check is telling me "dwarfs" is the correct term here and I'm just not sure I can live in a world where that's true). Hard to believe though it may be, I have once again found myself in an untenable boss/employee relationship, and at this point it's basically an Internet meme. But lamer and without cats. That's not even what this post is about.

Since 40 hours or more of my week are so frustrating and sideways, I've been allowing the rest of my life to get frustrating and sideways, too. I haven't been eating well, which means weight gain and spending too much money eating out. I haven't been resting well (intentionally taking time to do things that fill me up like reading my Bible, going for walks, or a dozen other beneficial things) and have instead been allowing myself to get mindlessly television-drunk to avoid dealing with my emotions. I've been skipping out on my Tuesday night church thing because I just don't want to do anything after another awful day at work. Recently, I've even been skipping church on Sunday, using my Christianese excuse of "sabbathing" which basically just means I wanted to sleep in, and I've experienced a noticeable decline in my attitude, perspective, and ability to deal with the misbehavior of others. Huh, stop spending time worshiping the One who gives me grace and I am suddenly unable to extend grace to others. Weird...

Anyway, I've had enough. I refuse to let this one area of my life infect the others. And I refuse to let another boss or job have this much power over me. It's going to take more energy and more deliberate planning, but I need to take control where I can find it and start living life on my own terms. Oh, good Lord, I sound like a cheesy self-help book. Next thing you know, I'm going to be talking about pampering my inner goddess and waking up to the existential power of the glowing temple of the pool of inner light within my subconscious MIND or something. Geez. Mostly, I just want to stop feeling like I hate everything.

So. I'm back at WeightWatchers. I know, same song, different verse. But so far, it's the only thing I've tried that has given me any kind of success. As you might remember, I was posting regularish updates last summer about my weight loss. Then this day happened, and I just kind of fell off the wagon. I have lots of excuses, most of which bear the names of national holidays at which we eat copious amounts of food, but it doesn't really matter. One of the major reasons I picked up and moved across the country was that I needed to change some patterns in my life (huh, another song on repeat), including my weight. Now here it is, over a year later, and I'm about 25 pounds lighter than when I got here. Twenty-five pounds is nothing to sneeze at, to be sure, but it's far from my goal. I have almost 100 pounds to lose yet, so a few weeks ago, I restarted tracking my food. I'm still not going to meetings, because that leader kind of ruined it for me for now. But if you look at the proverbial weight loss wagon, you'll see me, uh...teetering on the back edge. But I'm IN and that's what counts for now.

I don't know that I'll be posting weekly updates or not. You all saw how well I maintained that last time. Plus, who really cares? I mean, *I* do, obviously. And I'm sure that some or most of you are kind and compassionate human beings who are happy to cheer someone on as they do something good for themselves. But who really wants to read the statistics of my scale every week? Probably no one but me, and that's perfectly fine. I lost about 5 pounds in the first week (no expectations of continuing at that pace, but it was a nice surprise on Friday morning), so it's going well so far. I also have a goal to walk 20 miles in April. I'm at about 4 so far, so we'll see. But I wrote it in the bullet journal, so it's bound to happen.

Weigh In: Ten Percent and the SPIRAL OF DOOM

I went to my very last WeightWatchers meeting today. For a little while, at least. It's cheaper to do it online and I fume/cringe/gripe though my meetings (if I go at all), so it doesn't seem other the money right now. But I weighed myself on my new digital scale and it looked like I had lost enough weight to equal ten percent of my starting body weight. At WW meetings, you get a cool keychain in the shape of a 10 (that will hold other rewards, like the 25lb washer and the 16-week charm) and everyone claps for you and generally makes a big deal. So I decided I would go to ONE MORE meeting, get my keychain, and peace out. That's exactly what I did.

I wish I had never gotten out of bed this morning.

I REALLY wish I hadn't gone to that meeting.

The meeting was fine. Great, even. But this day, aside from (and directly after) the weigh in, was a complete disaster. I'm raw and teary and angry and embarrassed and eighteen other GIANT emotions. Here's a quick timeline of my day today:

7:30 am: Wake up and realize that my body will refuse to go back to sleep, despite my plans to sleep in today. Watch an episode of Flashpoint on Netflix in bed (this show is awesome and you should watch it and I love Canadians).

8:30 am: Get up, greet Bean and baby, convince myself to go to my meeting, leave for my meeting. I spend the drive working hard to stay under the speed limit, which is something I have been very good about since being pulled over on Saturday. I am reformed! REJOICE!

9:15 am: Stop at Starbucks to get a free latte courtesy of a screwed up beverage last month. Go to my meeting, weight in, get my keychain, be lauded, and smile graciously awkwardly. TODAY IS A GOOD DAY!

10:15 am: Leave my meeting, call my mom to tell her about my weigh in, giggle a lot. TODAY IS A GOOD D--wait, why are there flashing lights?

10:23 am: Get pulled over. Apparently, in my excitement about my weigh in, I lose track of my speed. I recognize this before I see the cop and am at the speed limit by the time I see his lights. This does not matter. As I pull to the curb, I catch my tire in a drainage slope and hit the curb HARD with my front passenger tire. Get ticketed for speeding and lacking proof of insurance (which is at home, on my dresser, exactly where one should keep such a document).

10:34 am: Pull away from the cop with ticket in hand. Get half a block away and realize there is something seriously wrong with the front passenger tire. Pull into parking lot. See flat tire. Call my mother and cry. Call Bean and cry some more. Bean sends her family to come rescue me.

12:15 pm: Pull out of the parking lot with a spare tire. Head to the shop where the tires are insured. Get a new tire, costing me only $23. Think maybe this won't be so bad. Realize that the ticket will likely be over $100. Cry again.

12:37 pm: Drive SO CAUTIOUSLY home, staying at the speed limit the whole time. Get passed by EVERYONE, some who do so in a disgruntled fashion. Do not see any cops. Get home and get a lovely hug from Bean. Try not to cry. Grab my proof of car insurance. Spend 20 minutes looking for my medical insurance card. Open two CDPs, because this day needs more than one (thanks, by the way, to Ginger for the make up and Miriel for the necklace! They brought joy to this awful day). Leave the house.

1:25 pm: Arrive at the courthouse to pay my fine and put this all behind me. Stand in line for 23 minutes to be told that the cop has not turned in his paperwork yet (he has 24 hours to do so), that my ticket is not in the system, and that I must return another day. Also I'm notified that the ticket will be $167 BEFORE administrative fees and credit card processing fees. Cry some more.

2:00 pm: Go to an auto shop to get my oil changed, which was on my list of errands before my day took a sharp nosedive. Present coupon for a $19.99 oil change, tire rotation (ridiculously unnecessary at this point), and break check. When my car is returned to me, I'm told about damage to the tire rod on the front passenger side that will cause major problems if not fixed in the next few weeks. But hey! It'll only cost $315. Also: I need new wipers, might need a new battery, and the oil pan is leaking. Forgo all options but the actual oil change (with other services described in the coupon), pay $25.72 for my oil change. Leave confused and weary.

3:15 pm: Return home believing that Crappy Day Presents must be mailed today (it's actually the 30th) and panic about wrapping paper and flat rate boxes. Find the actual ship date and relax. Talk to Bean, who reassures me that, although this day sucks, I do not suck as a human being.

3:37 pm: Leave for the grocery store for milk, a flu shot, and a DTaP. Sign up for shots at the pharmacy, go get milk while they're prepping. Buy the wrong milk (1% instead of skim), ice cream, and candy bars (in an effort to see how much of that 10% I can gain back in one night).

4:12 pm: Get flu shot, which my insurance covers at 100%. SCORE! Pharmacy nurse says good-bye. I ask for my DTaP (which I'd signed in for). She says it was not on her form and it will be several more minutes until she can get it ready. I stare forlornly at my ice cream. Pharmacy tech tells me my insurance will not cover DTaP and that'll be $60. I call my insurance company, whose obnoxious automated system tells me I'm covered for "Adult Immunizations: in network, out of network, in office, out of office; at 100% with no copay." Pharmacy tech shrugs and says her fax machine tells her different. Pay the $60, take another needle to the arm, go home with soggy ice cream.

The night did not get better from there. I won't go into more details, but it just sucked all around. For the only the second time since I moved to Texas, I uttered the phrase "I wanna go home." I don't really, but I DO want to run away from the mess that five minutes of excited distraction have cost me. I won't because I'm a grown-up, but it's really tempting. I decided against calling the apartment complex to check in on that mess of a situation (which I'm not sure I posted about, so you might be confused. Basically, it's a mess and I don't actually have an apartment YET, but they took some of my money and I'm not sure if they plan to make good on their promises), because I was done crying at this point and I thought I might yell really loudly if they told me what I expect they will tell me.

I ended the night in the kitchen with Bean with chocolate milk and prayer, because that's how we roll (okay, technically, I'm ending it blogging, but whatever). This is exactly what I needed at the end of this day--to remember I have a God who loves me, whether I break the law or do everything right. He will forgive and He will be with me and this day does not get to win. I'm not trying to get all philosophical--I don't have enough brain cells free at the moment to do that--I just know that this day is not some kind of cosmic mistake and it will not get in the way of the larger plan. And that it is perfectly okay to say "That day SUCKED."

It's October Again

There's this song that runs through my head around this time of year. I first heard it on One Tree Hill (shut up, it's good!) and I actually don't know who wrote it or anything. You can see it here (sorry about the extraneous episode pieces that you won't understand if you never watched the show), but it's just one stanza that runs through my head: "It's October again/the leaves are coming down/one more year's come and gone/and nothing's changed at all." 

And, geez, I feel all kinds of high-school-angsty just writing that out and linking to that show (but I love it anyway!), but that line has felt so true to me for years. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I always felt like nothing really ever changed. Sure, I left home and went to college and that was new! and fun! and exciting! and terrifying! and all the other things you feel moving away form home for the first time. But I never felt like my life really changed. And then I moved back home and got job after job, but it was all the same. I felt like I was on this path that was kind of set out for me from birth and I was just...me. The same old me with the same old hang-ups and the same old ideas and the same old life, not even heading in the direction I thought I would, but still in the same boring direction year after year.

Now, don't get me wrong, I was not unhappy with my life, per se. I was and am incredibly blessed and loved and there was nothing "wrong" with my life. I guess what I'm trying to say is that even at 25, I felt like I was still 15, waiting for my life to start. I was waiting for something extraordinary to happen, for there to be the epiphany or cataclysmic moment that I could point to when I'm old and say, "That's where everything changed. That's when my life really began. THAT'S when I became an adult." Which is, of course, ridiculous. Very few people have moments like that.

And I will admit, a lot of this feeling was wrapped up in my singleness. I felt (and still often do, despite my best efforts to trust my sovereign God) that my life wouldn't really begin until I met the person I would share my life with. I would never have said it in those terms because "I don't need a man to complete me/Jesus is all I need and the rest will come in the right time/some other odd mix of feminism and Christianity that basically says I am a whole person with a god-given purpose that does not REQUIRE and may not include a man or a family." But I still thought it (still think it) despite my best intentions.

So year after year would pass, and October would roll around again. And this song would float through my mind and I would very melodramatically, and yet completely honestly, nod my head and think, "Nothing ever changes." This was especially difficult when I left my job on October 3, 2011. I felt like I was running backwards, away from all of the things that I wanted for my life, straight toward the same-old-same that the song poked at. When October 3, 2012 rolled around and I was still unemployed, still single, still childless, still everything I did not want to be, I ran head-first into a wall. It's October again, and nothing's changed at all INDEED.

Now, before you click away or put on your pitying hats, I have a point. I think. October 2013 is almost over, but I was talking about this with Sister and it's time to share: for the first time in nearly ten years, the song doesn't apply. And it's not just that I live in Dallas now. Or that I have a job. Or that my job is in a vastly different field than I ever thought I'd pursue. Or even that I'm flinging myself into running headlong toward excited to start tentatively dipping a single toe into the process of becoming a foster parent. All those things are true and, at first, I thought they were the reason I finally feel so different. But they're not. Because in a lot of ways, nothing has changed at all. This should be no different than moving to college or moving home. Nothing's changed, except for ME.

For the first time, I am trusting God with every. single. step. I am reaching toward the unknown, not with fear of bad things or even expectation of grand things, but armed only with the knowledge that I serve a mighty, loving, incredible God and that my life is not my own. I don't mean to get preachy. I'm not saying any of this to convince you to "join God's team" or anything (although I would be lying if I did not say that I pray that for each of you--because the grace He has shown me is something I would love for you to experience, too). 

I'm saying this because this is HUGE for me. This is mind-blowing and freeing and LIFE-ALTERING. Which is the point. My life has been altered. Finally. Not by my circumstances, not by finding the love of my life (I have not), and not by my location, but by simply trusting that God is Who He says He is. And when your life is altered by something so good, you cannot help but share it with others. October is almost over. Another one is coming next year. It might not bring with it any of the things I think it will. It might. It doesn't matter, because it's not my story to write. It's just mine to live. And I can finally enjoy the sight of leaves falling down.

This Is Going to Sound Crazy...

Today, I'm going to share a secret. Well, it's not a really secrety secret, like I've spent time worrying that someone might find out. It's more like something that's been on my mind and in my heart for a long time and I haven't really known what to do about it, but now I'm ready to talk about it. So don't brace yourself for a big reveal or anything, just... Wow, I am intro-ing myself into oblivion. Let's start over, shall we?

If you've read my blog for any amount of time, you know all about my job and joblessness woes--more than you probably ever wanted to know. For the uninitiated: I left college, got a job with a crazy person, spent 6 months unemployed and zombie-like, took another job with a crazy person, spent 20 months unemployed, moved to Texas, got a job, and now here we are.

During the last few months of my last job and for the entirety of my second bout of unemployment, I prayed for a direction. Was I supposed to take another job in my industry or chart a new path? Where did God want me to work? Where would I do my best and make the world better and serve Him with my abilities? When no voice from heaven came and the doors kept closing on job opportunities, I got discouraged and cried out to God for any kind of relief. After a many months, God told me (not audibly--I'm not entirely crazy) to move here to Dallas. And many of you would see that as God answering my prayer for direction. It was an actual, geographic direction provided by God. Boom, prayer answered. And that's absolutely true.

Except. I never told you (and I only told a few people at the time) that I was getting an another answer from Him the whole time. Every time I prayed about my future, I got this simple and ridiculous answer:

"Be a foster mom."

It was whispered in my heart, it consumed my thoughts, it was in my face all the time. Every time I turned around, I was accidentally stumbling across adoption stories or foster care information or someone was telling me I needed to work with children or I was meeting people who had fostered. I had dreams of a four-year-old boy with dimples and adorably crazy hair, the same boy over and over again. It was WEIRD, is what I'm saying. I'm not one to see "signs" or patterns or put much stock in dreams, but I do believe in a God who is actively involved in our lives, with whom we can have a personal relationship. I had just never experienced it like this before--this overwhelming sensation of knowing what I should do.

And I knew it wasn't from me. I KNEW it, because every time I heard it, I would chuckle nervously and whisper, "You're kidding, right, Jesus?" It was as close as I was willing to get to consciously telling God, "No." I didn't want to be a foster mom, but I knew I NEEDED to be one. I wanted to get a job, get married, and have my own biological children and maybe someday WITH MY HUSBAND, adopt or foster. I wanted the perfect life, the American dream, the self-focused desire for my children to have my eyes and my husband's laugh. I was never opposed to adoption or fostering, it was just something I supported other people doing. I especially didn't want all of the fear of adoption--what if it doesn't go through? what if the birth mother wants them back? what if they're older and we never really bond? what if I'm not good at it because they're not "mine"?--and I didn't want all of the problems I'd heard about with fostering--what if they're troubled? what if I can't handle their issues? what do I do when I have to give them back? will I always hold a piece of my heart back because I know it's not permanent?--and yet there it remained, month after month, an ache deep in my heart for these parent-less children.

And the someone, not knowing about my internal struggle, brought up the Bible verse that says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart" and taught me what the verse really means. It does not mean that God is a genie and gives you what you desire; it means he gives you the desires themselves. This was from Him and even though it was CRAZY, I could kind of see His point: I love children; I have always felt like I was created to be a mom; Even in unemployment, I was so blessed and more than many other people. So I eventually kind of accepted the premise and said, "Okay, God, FINE! I'll be a foster mom. Someday. But I have no income and I live in my sister's house. That's not really an option right now. So, thanks and all, but can I have a different answer? One that's more applicable to my immediate issues? Like a JOB?"

And then God laughed and laughed. I mean, ahem. He provided a way for me to move to Texas and start a new life here. But here's the thing: this thought? It hasn't gone away (I thought it might. I maybe even hoped it might. I thought maybe it was a phase or a far-in-the-future thing that God allowed me to get a glimpse of). It disappeared from constant view amid the moving to Texas stuff, but a few weeks into my new job here, there was a day that was like ADOPTIONPALOOZA in my life. Among other things that happened that day, I was researching something else entirely and came across a fostering site with pictures of kids waiting for homes (side note, I'm not sure how I feel about this, since it feels a little like a department store website where you can pick out the prettiest dress or something...), then a blogger I read announced they were adopting and talked about THE SAME struggles I'd had and how they worked through them, AND THEN the novel I was reading to took a radical and unforeseen turn that ended with the main character taking custody of several children. And the whispering began again, but slightly different this time:

"I gave you the job you asked for. I will soon provide a home. You're out of excuses; it's time to be a foster mom." 

And that's where I've been ever since. I'm nearly in tears as I write this, because I don't know what any of this means. I don't know how hard this is going to be, and I don't know how to accomplish any of it. I don't even know if I can afford a place with more than one bedroom, which would be required. I'm barely on my feet financially. I'm just starting to feel emotionally healthy after the angst of the last few years. And I have no idea how this will affect my future. Will I end up adopting, or will I just be a safe place for a child for a little while before they reunite with their family? Will I get married and have biological children, too, or is this a completely separate path? Is this actually some selfish way for me to be a mom without waiting through the hard stuff that singleness means? I don't have much of it figured out, but if God gave me this desire, He will provide a way to make it happen. And every morning, I wake up thinking about where I'm going to live and how I'm going to follow this leading, about who this kid is going to be. Because now? Now I don't just need to be a foster mom, I want it with all my heart.

How Much Longer, Lord?

For those of you counting at home, it has been 606 days since I packed up my desk and walked out of my office for the last time, feeling confused and betrayed and incredibly relieved. It was the right choice, as has been proven again and again. But that doesn't mean that it hasn't been a difficult 606 days. I mean, babies have been conceived, gestated, and born in the time that I've been unemployed. And technically, if someone were to get pregnant right after the 6 week postpartum restriction, they could have TWO separately-gestated-and-born babies in the time I've been without a job (40 weeks plus 6 weeks plus 40 weeks equals 86 weeks, which is just slightly less than 606 divided by 7, for those math weirdos out there). But honestly I don't think I'd recommend this.

ANYWAY. Sorry for that gestational tangent. My point is, it's been a rough 86 weeks. Babies have been born, people have died, weight has been gained (and lost again), emotions have roiled, interviews have given false hope, money has not-so-slowly seeped out of bank accounts, etc. We've all heard this story before. Everything has changed around me and I stay the same. Stuck. Sometimes, I feel like I might whither up and never move again; I'll just be trapped in an endless loop of interviews and hopelessness. Each night, I pray, "How much longer, Lord?"

Today, he answered me.

"Five," He said.

His voice was not a booming in the clouds or a still, small whisper in my soul. His voice came in the form of a woman on the other end of my phone. Offering me a job. Starting next Wednesday.

Five days from now, I will be a gainfully employed, functioning member of society. Today, I accepted a job offer with an area non-profit organization doing work that I believe in and want to be a part of. This is a full-time, benefited, community-impacting job. It's everything I prayed for and more. I might even get to have my own office! I have mild fantasies of a mini-fridge and a coat rack. Don't ask me to explain; it'd just ruin it.

In the past 24 hours, I have cried, I have jumped up and down, I have fallen to my knees in grateful prayer, and I have danced. Oh how I've danced! I would like to tell you the whole story at some point about how the interviews went and about the offer, but I'm starving and I'm too excited to sit still. So I'll save that for a whole other post.

But I don't want to end this without first saying that I am SO grateful for all of you, my Internet community. This last year and a half would have been doubly difficult if I hadn't had you to whine to and ask questions of and joke with. I would not have had the courage (or the ability, THANK YOU Linnea) to move here to Texas and make a new start. You people have been more gracious and supportive than I could ever expect or deserve. Thank you so much for your prayers, your support, and your love. I had no idea how much God would bless me through this rambly little blog, but I'm so glad I found you all.

A Few Tenuously Related Things

Five days in, the WeightWatchers thing is going well. Which isn't saying all that much, since it's five whole days (it's not even enough time to have a weigh-in report). Except the opposite of that statement would be pretty pathetic, so I guess five whole days is something to celebrate. I went shopping yesterday and, since my shopping bags look basically the same from week to week, I made a point of buying a few newish things. So I bought an avocado. And I picked a new kind of granola bar. I know, I'm such a daredevil! I also bought snack-size ziplocks to portion out my snacks, because 1) it's cheaper than buying pre-portioned snacks, 2) the boxes were taking up a lot of room on my shelf, and 3) I'm more likely to eat it if it's already counted for me. So I put on Firefly and busted out all the bags and boxes of snacks and had a sorting/counting party. Then I realized that the boxes were doing a rather excellent job of containing my snacks and I had no where to put a gazillion slide-y plastic bags. So I ran to Target and bought two cheap wire baskets from the See Spot Save section to keep it tidy. Like this:

One is savory, the other is sweet. I could probably do something Pinteresty to them to label them. Or I could just look at them and then eat some things. That plan seems easier.

The baby has already found them and enjoys dumping them all over the floor and then flinging the granola bars around, which is fun for her and amusing for me so everyone wins. You might notice the numbers drawn on them in purple permanent marker--those are points values (shut up, I know it's "PointsPlus" now, but who are we kidding with this really?). That way, it's a really easy grab-and-go system. That I've set up for such a time as I will actually "go" after I grab.

The OCD part of me would like to go get more bins and separate the items by point value, but is conflicted by the fact that the Target near me only has yellow bins left and then they won't all match so I need different colors entirely so that it looks like it was intentionally not matching. And also, I don't have any FIVE point snacks, but I do have SIX point snacks, so do I just skip the five point bin or do I have an empty bin as a place holder for POTENTIAL five point snacks?  I have problems, is what I'm saying.

*   *   *   *   *

Also on the weight-loss front, I've been walking more lately. I discovered an app that works for me (MapMyWalk) and I've made routes of varying lengths and I actually want to walk them. On Saturday, I plopped the baby in the stroller and walked three (THREE) miles, which I am extremely proud of and I would count as a success if it weren't for a sunburn (Far Northerners are not to be trusted in Texas sunshine, apparently, but don't worry because I bought sunscreen with my avocado) and a blister. Yeaaaaah, my running shoes are causing a chronic blister on my left foot. I probably need new shoes, which I can't really afford right now. But I probably also need to, you know, use common sense and let it heal completely before trying to walk in them again. Which is really lame, because this is the first time in FOREVER that I actually want to exercise and I can't put my stupid shoes on. And yes, complaining about wanting to exercise and "woe is me, I have a small blister. I think I shall die from this!" this is really stupid and I am a walking limping cliche of First World problems, but it IS a problem to me and it's bumming me out.  Maybe I can find a good padded band-aid or something, because I really don't want to lose momentum. Any runners out there know of anything that actually stays put? (I should clarify: I am not and will probably never be a runner, but if it works at higher speeds, it should work for my 20 minute mile pace, right?)

*   *   *   *   *

You know how I mentioned Firefly in the first paragraph? I started rewatching it because I ran out of Doctor Who (I told you these things are tenuously related). That's right, I'm now a Whovian. I have Thoughts and Feelings about all of it, but I don't want to spoil anything for any of you who are still planning on getting into it (I speak from experience when I say it is never too late to show up to this party). Luckily, Bean and her husband and Kammah are all Whovians (how do you think I got hooked in the first place?), so I have outlets for my Thoughts and Feelings. but if any of you are fans and need someone with whom to start an epic email discussion, I am willing to be that someone. 

And if you're someone who wants to watch, but feels like it's a huge undertaking, let me assure you that it's worth it. Start with the 2005 re-start with the 9th Doctor and just forget about the earlier seasons--they'll explain everything you need to know. Seasons 1-6 are on Netflix as "Doctor Who" (whereas the older season are labeled as "Classic Doctor Who"). Two special episodes are missing, but I think you can buy them on Amazon; I haven't seen those and I'm not too lost. The current season is also on Amazon. And I would recommend staying off of Pinterest and Google while you're working your way through it, because I thoroughly spoilered myself on a few important things accidentally.

*   *   *   *   *

In related news, I think I am an official Netflix addict. Far North Internet being what it is (read: stupid), I haven't had the ability to watch online television in a very long time. And now I am watching ALL. THE. THINGS. I'm caught up on all my current shows, I've picked up a few that I dropped after college, and I'm flinging myself into BBC serials and science fiction adventures like there is no tomorrow. As you can imagine, this is making me oh so successful in the finding a job arena.

*   *   *   *   *

But! I have a job interview on Thursday. I got the call three weeks ago. That means I've had three weeks to get my hopes up and freak myself the heck out. I am not exactly in a great headspace right now. And I just realized that I need to find something professional to wear that actually fits me. If only WeightWatchers was a little more...instantaneous (she wishes for the millionth time for the millionth reason). I'm not sure if I'm more worried about screwing up the interview or about doing everything right and them still not hiring me. Mostly, I'm worried about the crushing despair that comes after rejection. I'm trying to keep things in perspective and put my hope in the right things (in a God who is sovereign and loves me and has a good plan for me and will not abandon me but is not a genie in a bottle and will not give me everything I want but will always give me everything I need) and not in the wrong things (my own ability to get a job, since I apparently do not have that ability). But if you're the praying type, I would appreciate some on my behalf around 2:30 pm this Thursday. 

*   *   *   *   *

Because I have been conditioned by a very long stint of unemployment, I know that this interview will likely turn into nothing. Statistics show that to be true. And I know, it only takes one offer, but let's face it, it would be ridiculous if one of the first jobs I applied for here in Texas and the first (only) interview I had was THE job and I was done. I'm still holding out hope, because that would be awesome. But I'm also being prudent and continuing to apply for other jobs. And I am ASTOUNDED by the amount of jobs available here. I think I have applied for more jobs in the last month than I applied for the whole time I was unemployed in Far North. Some of that is the economy. Some of that was my apathy and beaten-downness. But a lot of it is just that Far North is so TINY. Yes, it's a huge landmass, but it's so sparsely populated and there are so few industries. The opportunities here are so amazing to me. I feel like there HAS to be something I'm qualified for here. There HAS TO. Huh. This paragraph started out pragmatically pessimistic, but we ended on a high note. Victory! I think I'll leave it there before I talk myself out of it.

Texas: Two Week Update

I've been here for two weeks. TWO weeks. Is it really only two weeks? At the same time, have two WHOLE weeks gone by? You can see that I'm conflicted. Everything is happening very fast and yet also feels like a nice, easy routine of playing with the baby and job hunting during naps and hanging out with the Welches and just plain enjoying myself. I don't know how else to do this update but in a bulleted list. Someone more creative might be able to find a way, but I am still getting my bearings. Yes, let's blame it on that. 

Texas: What I've Been Doing and My Thoughts About It (Which You Can Skip and Just Read the Last Paragraph [Entitled "To Recap:" In Bold] If You're Short on Time or Patience or Are Being Set Upon by Wild Beasts and/or Babies):

• I've gone to three different churches--three different denominations, two of which I've never experienced before--so I'm getting exposed to all sorts of different flavors of Jesus, which is pretty cool, actually.
• I get to play with a baby EVERY SINGLE DAY how cool is that? Those of you who are moms are probably like, so? but it's awesome for me. She's learning so much right now and it's amazing to watch.
• I've applied for a gazillion jobs already. Okay, probably a couple dozen. Some childcare related and some in my industry. There's been a little bit of bureaucratic non-sense and run-around on a few of them, but mostly it's been a relatively easy process. If you don't count my whole emotional response to YET AGAIN begging people to like me enough to hire me and contorting myself into what I think they might want while still remaining honest about my skills and abilities--that part's not so painless.
• I've visited Linnea's parent's house twice now and they are fantastic people who don't seem to think it's one bit odd that I'm from the Internet. In fact, they've been incredibly kind and generous and offered their home to me if I should need a place on the Fort Worth side of the metroplex. It's like meeting extended family I never knew I had, which is to say: awesome.
• I've also visited Linnea's in-law's house and she has a brand spanking new nephew who is incredibly wee and adorable and I just want to watch him sleep that special newborn coma sleep. 
• I'm enjoying the heck out of the warmth and humidity. Rereading that makes me chuckle, because I spent a summer in Washington DC and I could have cursed humidity into a thousand fiery deaths, but that was also 95%. Here, it's been much less than that, but still much more than this so-dry-your-skin-cracks-and-bleeds Far North. My skin is loving this. My hair... Well, it'll adjust. I hope.
• Along with the warm, I'm relishing the lack of snow. The Texans are probably looking at me really funny right now, but I'm just so JOYFUL to see leaves on trees and dry ground. It's not like I expected snow here. I just find its absence comforting.
• I'm learning that "waterbugs" is just a nice way of saying "cockroaches and beetles." I am not a fan, no matter what you call them. This is the only downside I've found so far.
• I drove. By myself! And I didn't get lost. I feel like I may be making this a bigger accomplishment than it really is.
• Well, other than missing my family. Although, I'm doing incredibly well, all things considered. The first Sunday was hard, because we are such churchy people and I am guaranteed to see the whole family on Sundays, if not other days of the week. The realization that I would not, in fact, be seeing them that Sunday or any in the near future was a little rough, but I powered through. This is not like college where I knew no one at first and spent a lot of time alone. I live with a family, who treat me like part of their family, so it's much less lonely. 
• I got to go to Internet Book Club (I have no idea if it has a real name, so that's what I call it in my head), where I got to meet very nice women, some of whom I knew already from twitter and some new faces.We ate taco salad and tried to remember to talk about the book, but actually spent a lot of time just talking about life and I enjoyed myself a lot.
• I also have been warmly welcomed into Linnea's Bible study group, which has been a blessing in so many ways. It's nice to have built-in friends and it's really cool to know that I can be completely honest and open with them, since we're all just trying to be more like Jesus and we all want to help each other grow.
• Unlimited Internet! No download limits! All the shows I could never watch before! Blogging with out (technical) frustration! Candy Crush! I am never going to get a job!

There have been all kinds of other things happening in the last few weeks, but the list is getting long and I'm not sure that any of this is interesting to anyone but me.

To recap: I'm doing really well and I'm excited for the opportunities Texas offers. Hopefully, I'll get back to blogging more regularly now that I have a) access to good internet and b) things actually going on in my life again. But we've all heard that before, so we'll see. What are YOU up to? (and do you happen to know of any jobs available in the DFW area? Just kidding. Kind of.)

Texas, You Had Better Have Tissues

So, um... I'm moving to Texas.

Many of you who know me on twitter or were at PJs at TJ's this year probably already know that. But, in case you missed it, as many people in my personal life have, I'm MOVING to TEXAS.

Fair warning, this post is likely to be both CAPSLOCKY and incoherently babblish. Just FYI. Becaaaaauuuse: I'm moving to Texas in FOUR DAYS. And I have not packed a THING.

Here's the deal. Waaaay back in July (so like four posts ago on this here blog of abject neglect), I visited Linnea and her family in the DFW area. I got to meet her super cute, super schmooshy baby (who has grown into a super cute, slightly less schmooshy TODDLER, but that's a different story altogether) and her great husband and her sweet pets and her lovely friends. Through the planning phase of that trip, we joked about me meeting a cowboy/oil barron and getting married and just staying in Texas. And then when I got there, we joked about me finding a job there and living in Linnea's spare bedroom. And then about half-way through the trip, we kind of sort of somewhat a lot stopped joking. By the time I got on a plane to come home, I had half-way convinced myself that it was POSSIBLE to perhaps, SOMEDAY maybe try to sort of spend some more time in the general DFW area. Because I am a decisive person with a firm five-year plan for the future. Ahem.

Anyway, I got home and, as I had suspected, I remembered all of the reasons I love Far North and that I was actually very comfortable here, despite all of the REALLY GOOD reasons I had come up with while IN Texas for why Far North wasn't doing it for me anymore. Except. Those REALLY GOOD reasons wouldn't go away. Reasons like: I had not worked in a year; I'm overweight and struggling to lose weight in the cold and the dark and the land of expensive produce; I'm single and there are very few single, eligible men in this town; I'm afraid to drive in the snow.

So I started praying about it. And I started googling about DFW and jobs and housing. And then, in a fateful staff meeting in August about our church's growth and seating capacity, one of the pastors said, "I don't want to build a new building or move. I want to stay right here and keep preaching and just ignore the problem. But that's a terrible way to preach the Gospel and that's not what God is asking us to do." And all I could hear in my head was "I don't want to move to Texas and start over. I want to stay right here and keep failing to meet my goals and just ignore the problem. But that's a terrible way to live and that's not what God is asking me to do."

For those of you of the faith-y persuasion, this might be a familiar thing. But I know that this has to sound CRAZY to those of you who don't do church or faith. And, to tell you the truth, it's a little bit crazy to me, too. But it also feels so incredibly right. I didn't hear an audible voice from the heavens--that would either make me insane or...Moses and I'm pretty sure I'm neither. But I did know, deep in my gut, that it was the best plan and I could feel this tug on my soul to move and grow and change and see what this opportunity had to offer.

Now, as I am wont to do, I procrastinated and hemmed and hawed and just generally ignored that moment of revelation. Well, ignored it as much as I could while it was nagging in the back of my head and the few people I'd mentioned it to kept nudging me and asking about it and basically shooing me in a southerly direction. I went on more interviews here and failed to get each and every single job, even ones that seemed like sure things (THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A SURE THING). And I applied for jobs there, saying I wouldn't go without a plan and having a job there was part of the plan, no "plan" materialized. And then a house-sitting job came up and then the holidays came and then there was PJs at TJ's and and and AND AND I was a big chicken.

All of this to say that I am FINALLY taking the leap. I have a room and a car waiting for me and a hope of some part-time nannying until I can secure permanent employment. I have no idea where this will lead and I had a whole post planned about all the BENEFITS! and LOGIC! and WISDOM! of moving to Texas, but.

Instead, in the middle of writing this, I was called into our church auditorium (I'm writing this form the church office, since I've been temping here all week) and they made a "blessing circle" around me. Which sounds so much more churchy and mystical than it really is. I don't even know if anyone else does this, but my Worship Pastor (who also happens to be my best friend, which makes this all the more difficult) has developed this tradition of sending people off in TEARS. I mean... Wait.

You see, whenever one of us is going away (either moving or being sent out on the mission field or away to long-term training or anything longer than a few months), he gathers the whole worship team and forces the Leaving to sit in the center with everyone staring at them while each person takes a turn telling the Leaver how much they've been personally blessed by them and how much they'll miss them and how grateful they are for the Leaver's service to the church and basically GUILTS them into staying because how can you leave when everyone loves you this much?! And then, after you've done the ugly cry in front of everyone you know and you've had to figure up the appropriate facial expression to wear when someone compliments your humble spirit (there is no humble way to take that compliment and still, you know, TAKE it) and you've resisted the urge to look behind you twelve million times because a) they MUST be talking about someone else because while you are awesome, you do not feel THIS awesome and b) there are PEOPLE behind you waiting to say nice things to you and probably noticing that the shirt you chose that morning isn't really long enough to cover your lower back while you're sitting in a discount rolling office chair... After all of THIS, everyone stands up and puts a hand on you and prays blessings over you and your ministry and calling and new life.

And it is an amazing experience. It's humbling and beautiful and scary and powerful and awkward and abut eighteen other adjectives. And I was crying and trying not to be to noisy about it and trying to remember every last word spoke and also trying to perfect my spontaneous teleportation powers so I disappear on the spot because, man, I do not deserve half of the kindness that was given to me tonight. I kept thinking that there is so much imperfect about me and my walk with Jesus and if these people, these people who've known me most of my life and who know me so well, could ACTUALLY see my heart, they might run way screaming from the mess that I am inside.

But I think that's the point. We are, none of us, perfect. But it was amazing for just a few minutes, to see myself as others saw me. Not to build myself up and pat myself on the back for being able to cover my mess so well, but to see the way I HAVE grown and the ways I AM serving the Lord and loving people. It was kind of eye-opening in its ordinariness.

Whoa. Okay, before I sink too far into a nostalgic burst of self-inflated psychoanalysis, I should stop and get some sleep. There is a whole house to clean in preparation of my good-bye party (which I'm kind of throwing for myself, which is probably incredibly terrible etiquette, but Sister says its her house and she called to invite everyone, so SHE'S throwing the party, which, okay.) and I'm meeting a friend for lunch and I broke the church's copier today (how's that for being a humble servant, huh? I'm going out with a bang, I guess), so I'm going in to meet the copier guy in the morning even though the church is technically closed. Oh, and I have library books to return and a million other things to do and OH HEY PACKING, so I need some sleep.

But a post about moving to Texas would not be complete without at least a small note to say that this is ALL THE INTERNET'S FAULT. That's right--I'm moving to texas because of YOU! I never would have met Linnea or EVER thought about moving to TEXAS OF ALL PLACES if it weren't for the Internet. And more specifically, if it weren't for TJ putting a link to this blog on hers and if it weren't for Linnea clicking that link and finding me and if it weren't for TJ throwing a slumber party with an open invitation that made me feel welcome and brave enough to meet the Internet in person. And I think all of that is just a little bit nuts, but it's also just about the coolest thing I've ever heard.

This Whole Post Is Weird

It's been about two weeks since I wrote my last post, in which I promised to "get much more bloggy up in here." Which, A) did I actually say that? What am I, a blogging gangster? and B) who am I kidding? I can't keep my life together enough to make promises like that. But here are a few things that have happened since my last post:

1.     I got hired on as a temporary secretary at my church for two weeks while the real secretary is out of town. And I mostly just say, "Uh, I dunno. She'll be back on the twenty-first..." Well, that AND I'm doing a lot of graphic design stuff, which is so much fun and I think I may have missed my calling. If graphic designers all use Microsoft Publisher and "borrow" images from google. So, no? [A rant about Microsoft Publisher was here, but has been redacted because who the heck cares about my software preferences and also who the heck still uses Publisher?] So, YAY INCOME! For a little while, anyway.

2.     I had a second interview for a job I was very excited about. SPOILER ALERT (because of course there's another shoe needing to drop here): I was my usual Chronically Honest self and, when asked if I saw this as a long-term opportunity, I spewed my Texas plans and my new hippie "I'm going where ever life takes me" philosophy and told them I couldn't guarantee more than a year, although I wanted to stay longer than that. If you're really clueless about how the world works, skip down a little to find out how this ends.

3.     I realized I've forgotten how to be a productive member of society. That was a nice little wake-up call.

4.     My goddaughter was born! She's beautiful and healthy and wonderful and I'm so excited to get to watch her grow. Until I move to Texas. But we're not talking about that today. [A bitter rant about how some women have conceived, gestated, and given birth to whole children in the time I've been unemployed was here, but was also redacted because OOOOH PRETTY BABIES!!!]

5.     I started carrying a concealed handgun. And before you put on your judgey pants or gasp and clutch your pearls, let me explain:

• It is legal for me to do so where I live;
• I have had training on the safe and effective use of handguns;
• My church has recently received some threats and I spend a significant portion of my day alone in the unlocked building (by nature, the church needs to be unlocked). While the danger is probably not very high (the police are involved, nothing new has happened in about three weeks), the threatener is mentally unstable and I'd rather not tango with him unarmed;
• It is concealed so as not to cause a panic or instill fear in the normal church people;
• I have permission of the pastors and elders who run the church;
• I am not the only one in this building armed at any given time on any given day;
• I will not use it unless is it ABSOLUTELY necessary, which is a highly unlikely event. But that's why you carry a gun: to be prepared for that highly unlikely event.

ANYWAY. The reason I bring it up is that this is new and slightly weird. And, while I've always supported the CONCEPT of responsible handgun use, I didn't realize how much it would affect me to carry one. I am suddenly HYPER-AWARE of the deadliness and the social implications of having one on my person or around my house. I have also spent significant time thinking about dangerous scenarios and how I would react (both legally and morally). And then there are the SILLY things. Practical things like how this chunk of metal affects my balance, which clothes I wear, and how I maneuver throughout my day to keep it concealed. I guess what I'm saying is that this is so much more REAL than I thought it would be. Which, duh, of course it is. It's a huge responsibility and you shouldn't take it on without taking into account ALL of the variables and risks, which I believe I have done. What I'm saying is, it's no longer an abstract, cut-and-dry issue to me any more.

And, listen, I'm not really looking to have a politically charged gun discussion, but I DID bring it up, so if you MUST, give it a go. We can get ALL DISCUSSY in the comments, which isn't something that's ever happened here. Not that I'm mentioning this to BE DISCUSSY. Whatever. The bag is empty, the cat's gone, let's do this thing.

6.     I didn't get that job (cue everyone's SURPRISED FACE). And I know I said that if I didn't get it, I'd start looking in Texas and it would be the Lord's way of showing me His path. And I still completely believe that. But. Can I just say how incredibly discouraged and worthless I feel right now, just mere hours after I got the rejection call?

It's been 11 months of unemployment. It's been multiple failed interviews (I count them as failed if I didn't get the job, which is very glass-half-empty-of-me, but there it is). It's been 14 months of looking for a job. It's been THREE YEARS of work-related headaches, heartaches, and walletaches. And it's moments like these that make me ask the ridiculous and self-pitying question: Why doesn't anyone want me?

Tomorrow, I'll start again. Tomorrow, I'll turn my eyes toward Texas. Tomorrow, I will remember the Lord's promise. Today, I just want to look at Him and ask "Why?" and "How much longer?" and take comfort in the fact that He's a big enough God to handle my questions and doubts.

7.     There really isn't a seven, so go ahead and jump in with your comments now. Just know that if you're mean to me about #5, I might cry extra hard because of #6.

Where Is the Song for the Absent Things?

I've been feeling kind of low lately. Kind of empty. And I know that when [on the rare occasion that] I post [at all lately], it's usually some kind of administrative information or it's humorous. Or, at least, an attempt at humorous...ness. But I'm not feeling the humor so much tonight.



Maybe it's the let-down of coming home from PJs@TJ's, to which nothing else can compare in AWESOMENESS. Maybe it's because I've been living by myself for almost three weeks while Sister is out of town for job training. Maybe it's because I've been spending a lot of time with Godson and his mom, who is pregnant with a new Godson or Goddaughter due this summer and who has TWO nieces on the way as well. Or maybe it's because there were potato chips on sale a few weeks ago and I didn't buy them. Who can tell?

Whatever the trigger happened to be, I have spent the better part February incredibly lonely. And not just lonely "for the company of other human beings." Because when I feel that the house is overwhelming in its quietude, I pick up the phone or I hop in my car and I connect with other livings beings (who are not cats intent on smothering me in my sleep). It's not that I'm craving human contact, it's that I'm craving a particular human. Whom I haven't yet met.

I think it will come as a surprise to exactly NO ONE who has been reading this blog for more than a minute that I am single. S-I-N-G-L-E single. And that this is not by choice. I mean, yes, I could have chosen to throw myself at anything male with a pulse and I would be in a relationship right now, if that was all it took. So when I say ""not by choice" I guess I should say that I'm not living out my twenties in some quest to "find myself" or "put myself first" or "have a career because love and family is for later" or "casually date around with no strings attached" or even "enjoy what single life had to offer" (I'm also not saying those are poor choices; they're just not MY choices... But you get that, right? Because you're smart and cool and we're friends. Which means this parenthetical is actually kind of useless. So I'll use it to say hello to my mother: "Hi, Mom!" There, that's better).

If it had been up to me and not my Heavenly Father (and a decent amount of logic, parental advice, and, oh yes, A COMPLETE LACK OF OPTIONS), I would have gotten married sophomore year of college and would have 1.5 kids already... is what I'm saying.

And while this is probably sounding like a midnight pity party, thrown by an insecure Junior High girl and attended by zero guests (because, duh, LONELY!), I feel like this has been on my mind and heart lately and I need to get it out. And I realized, "Hey! I have a blog! For my thoughts! And I'm having a few of them right now!" AND? I'm not actually asking for pity. Shut up! I mean it! I'm just trying to put into words what I'm feeling. Because I cannot possibly be the only one who has ever felt this way and I strongly believe that the Internet was created for "ME, TOO!" moments (well, and probably porn, but we're not talking about that, okay?). So bear with me, will you, my friends?

You see, I think we spend a lot of time talking about loss. On television, in movies, in books, or in song. We read about heartbreak and we talk about death. We sing about the pain of losing someone or of being unable to make it work. But where is the song for the Absent Things? The things we never had in the first place, so we cannot mourn their passing?

Because the pain is there. At least for me. And I figure for others as well. There is an ache in my heart and an emptiness in my life that cannot be explained in simple terms. It's not loss. And it's not even rejection. In fact, I'm struggling right now with how to tell you without sounding like a sadsack loser who is begging the Internet to marry her.

Because I have a good life. A warm bed. A full belly. A safe home. I have more than over 80% of the world's population. And I need you to understand that I an NOT complaining about those things. I am incredibly grateful for the blessings in my life.

Including my family. I have a wonderful set of parents that live less than five miles away and love me in a way that I wish every kid in the world got to experience because I'm pretty sure we would not have wars or violence if everyone grew up loved the way my parents loved me. And I have a fabulous Sister who is also my best friend and whom I never want to live without. And I have a brother and sister-in-law who live five miles away (in the other direction) who are a delight and an example of what young married love can be. And I have another brother and sister-in-law and a niece (and a niece or nephew on the way) who have been a constant joy in my life and who I wish were able to live closer.

I have a family.

But I do not have a Family with a capital F. A husband. Children of my own. And there is an emptiness where they should be which does not, in any way, negate the love my family has for me or that I feel right back at them. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the desire to fill this void is a direct result of the wonderful life I have lived. I want to share it with someone.

At the risk of angering or offending women with infertility issues, I'm going to make a VERY LOOSE comparison. Since I've never tried to have a baby, I fully admit that I cannot know the depths of the pain or emptiness a family feels when they cannot have children. But in some ways, I wonder if we have something in common: for all my wishing and hoping and trying and waiting, I cannot just MAKE THIS HAPPEN for myself. And it's something that seems to have come so easily for almost everyone else around me.

Since I was in High School, the world has been pairing off around me. And when I look at all of the people I interact with on a regular basis, 95% of them are married, most with their own Families. And while everyone's "how we met" stories are personal and unique and required a certain amount of waiting and hoping and risk and whatever else, they have also ALREADY HAPPENED. They met, they fell in love, and BAM! happily ever after.

I know. I know. It's never that easy. And there are plenty of single people still out there, waiting and hoping just like me. And I'm pretty sure that SOMEDAY I will meet the man of my dreams and fall in love and BAM! happily ever after. And I will look back at all my fretting and loneliness with a kind of fondness, knowing it all paved the road that lead me to him or some other sentimental ridiculousness that is probably still true despite how sentimental and ridiculous it all seems. And I KNOW that I do not want to get ahead of myself and marry the wrong man and then end up alone ANYWAY. And I AM trusting the Lord to bring me the right man at the right time (mostly... some days... I'm trying, okay?).

But can we just stop for a moment and recognize that there is pain in the waiting? That the wanting and yearning to share your life with someone is actually UNCOMFORTABLE and LONELY and IT HURTS? That there is a space that cannot be filled by anything other than Family with a capital F and until that happens, that space is EMPTY and yet still PRESENT?

That is what I am feeling this week. A hole in my heart where HE and MY KIDS should be. A hole that will someday, by the grace of a loving and merciful God, be occupied by exactly what I need. And that will maybe not hurt so badly tomorrow if I can just find some rest in a yet-again-empty bed. That is all.

Thanks for listening and have a good night.

And can you do me a favor? Can you kiss your spouse or hug your kids and whisper a thank you for your own empty space that isn't so empty anymore? On behalf those of us still waiting?

I Can't Do Resoultions, So I'm Asking Jesus for the Things I Need

I've never been much for New Year's Resolutions. Partly because it was never a THING in our family and in my general social group--we just didn't do it. And partly because I have absolutely NO FOLLOW-THROUGH (see the month of December on this blog). So I don't make resolutions and I don't keep them. So, you know. That makes January 1st really hassle-free. And also kind of a let-down.

This year, however, I was smacked in the face by the appearance of 2012. I mean it. Sister and I were sitting at our front windows watching the neighbors shoot off fireworks (it was nice: we got to see a beautiful show without spending any money or putting on pants). They started at about 10:00 pm and then took a break. We went back to our TV show and a while later, we heard more cracks and pops and rushed to the window to see the next act.

Sister asked, "Is it midnight already?"

I looked at the clock and it was 12:04, so I said, "Happy 2012!"

And she replied, "May it be so much better than 2011!"

We made jokes about having jobs and also having jobs that DIDN'T suck in 2012. And then one of us made the Friends quote about "NO DIVORCES IN 99!"

And then all of the sudden, I wanted to weep. Because 2011 sucked in a big way. It had some really great moments and cannot beat 2010 for the emotional scarring I went through. But 2011 still really bit it. Here are just a few examples:

• I moved (temporarily) to an island town that I hate, for a job that was both amazingly fulfilling and also soul-sucking.
• My beautiful niece fell off her changing table and hit the back of her head and neck on the near-by bed frame, leaving all of us in a panic about concussions and brain injuries and her life never being the same again. She recovered well and by her first birthday only a few weeks later, it seemed as if it had never happened (thankyouthankyouthankyou, Jesus!), except for the terrified memories her parents still hold and the chest tightening the rest of us experience when it's mentioned.
• After years of searching, our church hired a new Youth and Family Pastor and Brother, Sister-In-Law, Sister, and I were incredibly relieved to have the burden of Youth Group on a paid staff person's shoulders and that we could return to being ONLY volunteers. Less than a month after hiring said pastor, our church had to fire him. And even though it was for perfectly legitimate reasons and none of us wanted him to stay, Youth Group got difficult again.
• Sister got fired for reasons we still do not understand.
• Brother and Sister-In-Law went to California for a month, so that Brother could have a fourth sinus surgery, since the three others (two within the last four months) had not solved the excruciating headaches and vision changes. This surgery did not entirely solve the problem either, but he's doing okay.
• My grandmother, my beloved Nana, was admitted to the hospital for internal organ failure and sepsis after a too-long-undiscovered bowel perforation, where she stayed (gravitating between fighting and getting stronger to being completely uncommunicative and needing three of her major body systems controlled by machines and medicines and back again) for over 6 weeks before her body gave up and she went to be with Jesus. 
• I returned home from my relocation and stayed with the job, even though my pay had been cut significantly without my knowledge and without explanation and even though my coworker sabotaged me at every step and I was bored out of my mind.
• My best friend asked me if I would be willing to be Godmother to her son and to any future children she and her husband may have (one of which is due to make his or her appearance in August 2012). This is the highest honor anyone has ever given to me and also one of the most humbling things I have ever experienced. I pray that my role of Godmother will only ever be figurative and that my relationship with him remain Auntie Elise. Not because I would hesitate to take him if anything ever happened to her and her husband, but because I pray NOTHING ever happens to her and her husband.
• I started this blog, which has been a constant source of joy (and an occasional source of guilt...) in my life and is one of the highlights of my year. I joined Twitter soon after and found that my job was more bearable because of all of the strangers willing to stab my boss for me if I ever needed it. 
• Every job that Sister applied for disappeared without explanation--not that other people got them, but that the jobs/positions CEASED TO EXIST for various strange reasons.
• Roommate visited Far North for the first (and maybe last? I hope not) time and we had a WONDERFUL ten days together. I constantly miss her, but it is much easier to deal with if I have seen her in the last six months--we've recently passed this threshold and I am planning a visit to her place in February, as long as I can find some money.
• I bought an AWESOME PURPLE COUCH!
• Things became more strained at work and I experienced several ethical dilemmas before coming to the conclusion that I needed to quit and distance myself from the emotional devastation and the bad behavior of my boss and coworker that might damage my future career prospects.
• I realized I have put on ALMOST ALL of the weight I had lost at the end of college, meaning most of my clothing do not fit and I have hit the lowest self-esteem point in years.
• I developed a belated case of SNOW ANXIETY that I continue to battle with.
• Biggest Brother struggled to finish his PhD in a series of frustrating circumstances, heaped on top of years of frustrating circumstances. His wife and daughter had to move across the country without him for several weeks because of these frustrating circumstances.
• Things got worse at work AFTER I quit and the problems followed me into the next month and are things I really wished I could blog about but are secret, so I ended up writing an angry and vague post entitled CAPSLOCKTRAINWRECK.
• Biggest Brother finished his PhD! Now he and his wife and daughter have settled into their new home across the country and--
• BABY NUMBER TWO IS ON ITS WAY!
• Oh, and?
• SISTER GOT A JOB!!! Today is her first day.

Along with all of these things, here are a few things that were not date specific: I did not meet my future husband; Sister did not meet her future husband; Sister-In-Law did not start a LONG-AWAITED (5-6 years of waiting) pregnancy; I did not buy the car I have been trying to buy for over two years.


As you can see, 2011 had its ups and downs, with a lot of BIG downs. Most of these things were unexpected and many of them were unwelcome. I know this sounds like I'm focusing on all the negative and I AM grateful for all of the blessings I have received over the year, including the ability to quit my job and survive financially for several months. This was just a pretty rough year, not just for me, but for many of the people closest to me. And I can't help but think that any resolution I would have made would not have been accomplished in 2011.

So as 2012 breaks over the horizon, I will not make resolutions. But I will whisper a small prayer:

Lord, please bless my family and keep them safe. Let us not lose anyone this year, but let us add to our number, even many times over. Place good men and women in authority over us, that we may be fulfilled by our daily work and earn enough money to keep us well-fed, well-housed, and able to give to others. Grant us health and fitness, that our bodies would be better able to serve You and bring You glory. Let us not wander away from You, that when difficulty comes, we may lean on You for strength and guidance. We praise you because we are fearfully and wonderfully made and we know that Your plans for us are for good, for hope, and for a future. So, Lord, please let 2012 be a year of hope and goodness.