Christmas Letter. 2014.

Dear Friends...

Of course, I'd like to send out Christmas cards, but life is chaotic once again in preparations for my move (yes, I know...again) to a place I hope to call home for more than a minute. 

As I sit down to write this letter, I'm typing it from my phone as I wait to for Jane to finish dance class. (I'll explain later) Life is moving at a completely different pace than it was 12 months ago. But to be truthful, this is peace in chaos, which is unexpected. And I'm more than enjoying this chapter and all it is bringing. Reflecting on this year, it's been a lifetime of events in a mere 350 some odd days. 

I started the year in a relationship and with what I thought was a steady career.  Soon into the year, I was laid off from teaching, so plans to make the relationship more permanent seemed like an attainable reality. The decision to move to him seemed to make sense. I sold half of my furniture, clothes, and much of my other worldly possessions and moved once summer hit. I moved south with great dreams. And I also moved with a plan. Jory (my Bestest) became my business partner and Studio Black Sheep was born. I must say with truth that Jory has been a highlight of my year. The memories we've made in this adventure have been engrained in my brain for a lifetime and the proof lives on in Instagram and on Facebook. I mean, how can we forget that one time in Gustine?! 

And though the move to San Diego was sadly short lived as I love it there, it was a major springboard for change. With the sudden and quite unexpected move back to the LA area, I nannied (for like, a minute) for a few families before landing an amazing job at The LAB. The position, though hard to define, is incredible and tailor made for my personality, but more importantly, the people I've met have made the biggest impact in my life in such a short period of time. My boss and his wife feel like we've known each other for years. He continues to validate me as a person which NEVER happened with my previous working situation. The humor in our office is nothing short of a reality show in the making. And through this working at the office, I've also met the dad of one incredible girl. 

Jane. As I seem to have J's in spades, she's of course, the youngest in my collection, but nonetheless seems to make up for it with her larger than life personality. You know, it's interesting how our lives cross paths with people that are kindred spirits. The kind of people you meet and know you'll be connected for life. And as I have days I miss parts of my life with middle schoolers, I have her to tutor and mentor. She's my people. We understand each other. I get to spend these chunks of time with her. As we work on homework in between her dance classes, we are getting to spend time hanging out too. I see her learn, grow, be silly or serious and to be in conversation. I also get entertained as she is, after all, a thirteen year old. She fills my heart. It isn't something I can label, or even explain in a phrase or even a sentence, but I am thankful for what this is.  

This year has included the births of friendships. The deaths of relationships. A whole heck of a lot of time in a baseball stadium. Countless road trips. Living with gracious people in between chaotic life stages. Lots of #YAAAAASSSSS. Too many cardboard boxes. Idaho. Learning to conquer my anxiety and depression demons. Coffee in excess. A life changing Step Study. My collection of J's. A new car (with the gracious help of my dad and Katty Kat...ahh, Gustine). Making San Fran/Sac town my home away from home. Navigating my way back into church. And of course, Stella (Truly my only constant in this year other than the theme of change. Hard to believe she turned 9 this year!). 

Welcome to Tustin.

And so, as I get ready to embark on this next address move, I'm looking forward to the change. To have a roommate again (Boy, that is an ironic journey of worlds colliding). And to start the year in a better place, literally and figuratively. And to remember, it's not about my identity in others. It's about the identity of me. 

My friends, I pray that as we can get caught up in the holiday craziness, we don't lose sight of the blessings and faithfulness. I count my blessings a little more carefully as it was a frightful adventure of a year. My motto this year was to THRIVE. I finally know a heck of a lot more of what that looks like, which brings such a deep rooted freedom. Next year's motto is just starting to unfold itself. At this point, for 2015, I want to love. To shine. To hope. And to be free in me. 

With love,

.ellen&stella.

What's My Address Again?

The new place is still under construction.

So as I know things have changed so fast for me this year that before I finish typing this sentence I will probably have another new address. Oh wait...that's right...I am moving. Yet again. In 6 weeks. It'll be Move Number 7 or 8 in the last 12 months. Oy vei. This move I will actually order address labels for and make sure my driver's license matches only so that it seems like I am settled this time for more than a minute. On that note, I have also decided to go back to the roommate life as I was given an offer too good to refuse. I think that it will be a healthy situation and perhaps will provide an for an interesting story someday. It will be nice to have someone there too. I am (we are) upgrading to a very nice new top-floor apartment in a beautiful area that will allow me to spend a lot of time outdoors in Peter's Canyon (as well as other local parks and beaches) so I can run again in good areas and my homegirl, Stella, will get to enjoy life in the dog park at our home. I am looking forward to the change (and to finally unpack--though cardboard brown is so the new black).

Trailer chic.

And though I have moved from La Habra to Cerritos to San Diego to Whittier to La Habra to stints in San Francisco to a vacation in Idaho to Santa Ana to Tustin, I have at least settled in to THE most amazing job. I hate to even call it a job as I don't feel like it is even work. I literally get to be in an environment surrounded by all things Ellen. Creative. Retail. Design. Food. Drink. People. And lots of movement and action. It is really everything in my wheel house. I had no idea such a thing existed. And though I miss the coaching and kids (and some people) of my past life, I could not love this job any more than I do. I work for a creative duo that are at the top of the game. And best part, I have a boss that is a creative genius, respectful, thoughtful, and funny. I had no idea how much my soul and spirit had been damaged in recent years by some in authority of my past professional career. But that has all seemed like ancient history as I work for people that encourage and build. Not a day goes by that I am not laughing and leaving the day feeling valued. It is a dream. Because in turn, I work that much harder and get to thrive in this place. What a novel concept.

People are asking me all the time what it is that I do. And to be honest, I am not sure how to put it in words. I manage an office of creatives. I facilitate the personal and professional schedules of my boss. I buy for the retail spaces. I get to shop and source furniture and accessories for our new ventures. I plan fun events. I get to be creative. I am part of many projects. I work with all kinds of people from city officials, to creatives, to restauranteurs and some major players in the development world. It is kind of crazy. Even more awesome is that I get to have a pulse on trends and pushing the design envelope as I learn from those I work with each day. I get to try all kinds of food and drink from the restaurants. I have met great people that are quickly becoming great friends. I wear whatever I want to work. My hair can be whatever color. And I get to be me. No judging. It is freeing. The bonus (besides these amazing people): we have a trailer and a shipping container in our office. Bet you can't say that about your work space!

Bunny.

Beyond life at The LAB, I have spent a good deal of time making these fly-by-night trips to San Fran. Thankfully my Pops and Katty Kat are there, but I also get to see my "Bestest." (That means he is better than a bestie.) We have been spending these moments together that feel like a blip on the radar, but honestly, we pack every minute. We are still this powerhouse known as Studio Black Sheep making events happen and gettin' it done.  It is amazing how someone can fill your life with so much love and laughter and joy and confidence all at once. And you can spend countless minutes together singing Katy Perry at the of your lungs and purring at each other without being annoyed. It is the best. And to be truthful, it is Jory that I can almost singlehandedly say has been a force in getting me back on my game. He is an amazing human. The kind that plants the deepest and most honest friendship one can ever ask for.

There is a handful of folk that I can say that about these days. They are the ones that know me best and have never left my side. I get to spend holidays with those families. Celebrate birthdays. Go shopping for creatures needed for a 5 year old birthday party or to even just clean out the garage (for days in a row). Or just show up at their house for Sundays together to do whatever the day may call for. It is the kind of stuff that takes my breath away when I feel the sadness for the yesteryears. I have these people that fill the empty spaces. They are more than friends. The "friend" word doesn't do justice. They've become family. And though they definitely don't replace the significant people of the past, they help to bring in new memories and help me to build again. Just this time as a better version of myself.

In a nutshell, I am back. I am alive. I am me again. It has been a decade or so, but watch out. The sleeping lions are wide awake. It was my 2014 resolution to THRIVE. And though this has taken on a completely different look than what I had imagined back on January 1, this is shaping up to be a chapter I couldn't have written better myself. And that, my friends, is how we know that we are NOT the authors of our own story. We simply play a role in a grander picture. Thank God for that.

And so, the ampersand chapter continues...&

Tsunami of Awesome.

(This post was actually written September 14, 2014)

As it seems, I have often used the word "journey" to describe the last year and a half (or perhaps back even further). Almost like the way we used "intentional" during our Biola days. I cringe in fear that it may seem trite or cliche, which is not my goal. I tell you that I am not the same person that started this journey so many months ago. Perhaps it defeats the purpose if I have to say that, but I think that I am in awe that often I don't always recognize myself. I have gotten to a place where I an appreciate the smallest of things. I can truly celebrate in the joy of others. And I grieve with those that are hurting. Life is no longer about things. Money. Or power. It is about the way we can say "yes" to each day. I am guilty for getting caught up in routines and the stagnant. I can't even see how that is possible anymore. I have not had two of the same days in months. And though I was worried about what this new chapter would look like, I am thriving. I had my mini pity party when my teacher friends all started school, but I had to shake it off. My teaching career is a chapter of my past life. I lived that chapter. It was a good one. And also one of the hardest. The people still matter, but the career is no longer my calling.

With that being said, in the last week, I have seen the clouds pass and the fog lift. Is it clarity of thought from the REAL food I had been eating from Whole30? Is it the fact that I am getting the door beaten down by opportunity? Is it the Step Study I have finished after 8 long months? Or is it the messages I have been hearing preached in church? I am sure the culmination can all attribute to the tsunami of awesome, but really, and I mean reeeeaaaallly like real talk, it is that the pieces of the past (and the future) are finally making sense.

The journey has been one I compare to a roller coaster, and in the last year or so, I have been climbing, anticipating the gut wrenching drop. My stomach has done the flips. I have screamed (on more than one occasion). Clenched my fists, holding on for dear life. And now, I get to feel the wind in my hair. The laughter in the thrills of this part. I do long to share in this journey with people that are no longer on the ride, but I can't blame them for getting off the ride. It is not for the faint of heart. They have their own trail to blaze for now. And at times, it could've been best described more as a crazy train. Perhaps someday our paths will cross again.

For now, I am in awe of not only the provision in my life, but of incredible faithfulness. It is not good enough that I was allowed one blessing, but a multitude. That, my friends, is the definition of grace. I am now challenged to give that grace to others as it is abundant.

I look forward to sharing the specific details of this journey. I can tell you that I have had a sip of the entrepreneurial Kool-Aid and it is delicious. This life I get to live is shaping up to be better than I could ever hope or imagine. If you can stomach the inconsistencies it may bring, you can also relish in the thrills that come too. I now get to be incredibly creative. I am meeting amazing people. Having once in a lifetime experiences. I get to enjoy my days. I enjoy drinking my wine and I still have a few bad habits, but I am no longer stuck in a gear of neutral. I can confidently hold to the promises of this life. Hope. Love. Forgiveness. Healing. And an amazing future. This chapter is truly called my "Tsunami of Awesome."

Potato Land.

After spending the last week in the land of potatoes, it is a wonder that I did not send for my things and have Dave and Sarah pack Stella into a cardboard box and FedEx her. (Sidenote: Stella was an escape artist in my absence. Twice. Practically gave me a heart attack and caused an assembly of a giant search party. Thankfully, she didn't wander too far.) Had it not been for a wedding in CA, I may have had my mail forwarded to a Potato Land address.

Idaho, though I have now visited a handful of times, somehow quieted my soul this trip. I am sure breaking my Whole30 diet for a minute to have Zips helped a tad, but I think it had more to do with the company I kept. Being with the scrummies was priceless, and of course, seeing my sister and brother-in-law was an added bonus. My dad happened to coordinate his trip, so it was lots of family bonding time, but all in all, I savored the moments in Legos, baking cupcakes, hair braiding, walking hand in hand with RaeRae, jumping on the trampoline (thank God I didn't pee myself), and other such exciting adventures that come from spending time with girls that are 9 and 11. The Harry Potter marathon was fun. The summer storms were nerve rattling. The wake boarding was eventful (and full of colorful words). Paddle boarding was amazing (as was each day on the lake). The people continued to be so kind in the northwest. But ultimately, my trip came down to prized moments. One such moment in which I spent in church. It will be a moment I treasure for eternity.

The moment came on the heels of talking to Louski about life, friendships, and who God has made her to be. This girl is quite serious about her cupcakes and wanting to be a business owner someday. Her brain is always working. And she is now at an age where she is wanting to figure out what she is good at, while also wanting to be accepted by her friend groups. It just so happens to be an age that I cherish. She is the age of my people. Anyhow, we sat next to each other in church this last Sunday where she is now old enough to attend "big church." And at church, it was communion Sunday. As the bread and wine came down our aisle, we took our portions and quietly sang and prayed. And as I watched Caelan praying with all of her might, she spilled a bit of her grape juice. (Not surprising, as my sister did forewarn me that it is a regular occurrence.) But what I loved was that she was so focused on her prayers that she was not at all concerned with the purple drops on her jeans. Her child like faith has been a vision in my head ever since as I am in this place where my own faith continues to grow and be challenged. I am so incredibly thankful that my sister and Eric are raising their girls to be such amazing creatures. Honest. Loving. Creative. Respectful. And God loving. You can learn a lot from spending time with a 9 and an 11 year old.

Spending time in Idaho allowed my spirit to settle and to truly reflect on all that has happened in the last year or so. Even for a moment. Some of it has challenged me beyond belief. Much has surprised me. And some things, I am still sorting. And I am exhausted. But it also showed me that I am in this new chapter of life when I can do and be whatever I want. That I can go where the wind takes me. Or better yet, where God calls.

After a conversation with a friend in Idaho that I know from my way back life, he challenged me to really prayerfully consider this next chapter. And that perhaps, just maybe, I might be packing my stuff to move somewhere unexpected. As I am learning that God has a sense of humor, I am thinking that maybe there is some truth to the words of my friend in this adventure. And maybe one day, Potato Land might just be home. I could stand to snuggle on the couch with my nieces on a weekly basis or spend time paddle boarding with them on the lake. I don't want to miss out. And the great memories I made with Meg and Eric was refreshing. Or perhaps my next address will be in another time zone.

I am still facing a handful of unknowns, but this might all be because the adventure is just about to start. Doors continue to close and friendships continue to evolve in unexpected ways. My faith is continuing to be challenged and perhaps this faith of mine should look more like an 11 year old girl with purple spotted jeans.


P.S. Whole30, you are not fun on vacation. Day 22 is in the books and I still want beer and chocolate, with a side of cheese and frozen yogurt.

Whole 30. Day 3-9.

STILL!

Boom. I am over a week in to this insanity called Whole30. It does humor me to hear some of you ask about this journey. Some in doubt, skepticism, or just plain curiosity. For those of your doubters, I am still in. But as I enter into Day 9, I must confess that to celebrate the multiple pairs of pants that are now too big (Now I understand why my friend, EO, had to have so many of her clothes altered, this venture can get a little pricey.), I thought I would take a sip of the sweet nectar called Diet Coke after church on Sunday. A bit of bubbly to cheers, right?! What a mistake. Instantly, the burn, the bubbles, the guilt and the shame commenced. It was NOT worth it. Water was quickly my chaser to such madness. I don't know what I was thinking.

I am now able to eat and prepare real food without hesitation (I am definitely a better cook after much practice in the recent months/year). And as much as I craved beer and chocolate on Day 5 (and still do), I am craving real food more. I drive past my favorite fast food joints and I give them the Stenson stare. I am not wanting to pig out on crap full of preservatives and fat-filled nonsense. HOWEVER, I am about to embark on a trip to visit my favorite potato people in northern Idaho. And there just so happens to be an amazing hot spot called Zips. I am already confessing to the upcoming cheatness called delicious chicken strips, fries, and huckleberry shakes (See the word berry? Let's just focus on that part).

So for those of you interested in this madness, check out the website to get started: www.whole30.com. It is also really helpful to find great recipes and boards on Pinterest (I have a board on Pinterest if you want to follow it too. Helpful ideas, people). The book is also really great, called "It Starts With Food." It is really the method behind the madness.

Boom! Keep eating real, people.

Whole30. Day 2.

Breakfast.

Whole30. Day 2.
Breakfast: Eggs (over easy). Grilled steak. Avocado. Cilantro. Onions. = Heaven on a plate (and kept me full!)
Lunch: Grilled steak salad with strawberries, mushrooms, onions and hardboiled egg.
Dinner: Baked chicken with bacon. Broccoli.
Drink: So much water throughout the day. I have cucumber and lime in my water mostly. I am definitely missing beverage choices. I crave a soda like nobody's business.
Snack: Banana with almond butter.

Dinner. 

This was much more successful than Day 1 as I figured out how to be less STARVING. It totally helps doing this concept with Sarah, and also with the great support of the folks from The Warehouse (my church). I love that I can pick their brains and see what they are eating, feeling, managing.

Thanks, Carly! 

I felt a bit more energetic on Day 2, but that could've just been a change in attitude as I have hit a crossroad in recent days and I am choosing to take the better path. As much I want certain things, I relinquish control. Things will happen when they need to. I feel like I am finally putting together some significant pieces of this journey and it is starting to make sense. I have much to be thankful for as I have a new car. A great place to live. New opportunities. A growing business with Studio Black Sheep. And a new hair style to accompany it all the change (Amazing what happens when you give your hairstylist carte blanche. You walk out with 6 less inches and a different color(s)--Carly gave me one of her best styles this week. She is the greatest. You need a good stylist? Call her.).

I often barely recognize myself as the only thing that has stayed the same is Grandma Stella. And even she is working on being an awesome dog, as if that is even possible. She is so incredibly social now. She is playing really well with others. And she is still snoring to be cute. Her only downfall is a pending surgery to fix her eye and to take out a tumor from her belly. (That will not be a fun day). She still likes to rock the homeless look, no matter how hard I try and shake that for her, she seems to like her hair best that way. And the little devil still talks back. She absolutely adores Sarah. I think she is working her way to Dave. I think they have a secret love-hate relationship. Overall, I think she misses snuggling on the couch (it is against the rules, which is good for her) and I know she often waits at the door in hopes that she will get a visitor. I swear, she is such a vital part of my life. Sounds so lame when people say dogs are the best of friends, but this puppy is my world. She is one of the faithful and has been a constant in the midst of change. In my humble opinion, dogs are one of God's best ideas.

I will soon be floating an Idaho river if I get a good price on a plane ticket. I can't wait to kick it with my potato people. And then I will come back hitting the ground running. Good things are in the works.

Whole30. Day 1.

This is the start of all things madness. I am talking real madness (like REEEAAAL). My friend Sarah and I are embarking in the craziness called Whole30. And today martked Day 1.

What is Whole30, you may ask? It is eating real food for 30 days. No sugar. No carbs. No fun. Just kidding. It is fun. So far. But I have been advised that by Day 4 or 5, I will want to kill all things. That'll be fun.

Whole30 is a reset to the metabolism. It is definitely a diet of discipline. It is eating in the manner that God created. For us to treat our bodies like the temples they are, but also to ditch the nonsense preservatives and fillers that destroy our body. As a cancer survivor, it is all the more reason to consider every bit of food I eat so that my body is operating at its best. In the next 30 days, I will eat plenty of eggs, lots of protein, and the fridge is filled with color. I love it.

I am encouraged by the way Whole30 friends are feeling (and looking). So, as life is about developing better patterns and habits, here starts one of healthy eating. Real food. Real life. Real.

I am the Moon.

Dear Friends,

After some recent thought and conversation with someone I shared much of my life, I have been wrestling over the privacy/publicity of my blog. With that being said, I would like to get a few things on the record. This is not a huge forum in which I choose to share. I made that clear from the first post.

They see me rollin'.

First, I am not a victim. In fact, as I read my blog, I can see that I am stronger than I have been in years. Broken, but strong. And the things that have been taking place in my own life are not perpetuating any sort of victim-hood identity. Quite the contrary. Rather, I want the message that comes across is one of strength, bravery, difficulty, and truth. I am totally blessed. BUT I AM STILL FLAWED. Imperfect. Broken. A beautiful disaster, if you will. Faithfulness is evident in every aspect of this life. Even in the difficult parts. And in recent moves and changes, it is not intended as a cry for help or sympathy. I strive instead to set that record straight here and now. To show others with my actions, not my words, that I do not need to encourage drama or to create tension. I have painted some situations in the past to play up my past role as a victim. It caused pain to people. I pay the price for that, as do they. I made mistakes. Big ones that caused some of the most important people in my life to suffer. That is my burden to bear. Sadly, that pain still resides in some situations that I wish I could erase. I can't change it, but I can work to build for the future. We are all responsible for our own actions and choices. Now, I am learning to live in love, acceptance, forgiveness, and kindness. What a novel concept. I apologize if anything indicates I need the whole "woe is me" act. I don't. And I am truly sorry to those I have hurt. Truly.

Second, I will not share EVERY detail of my personal life on my blog. Some details are meant to be private. I was pretty up front from the beginning that this blog was intended to serve as a journal of MY journey.  Some details may seem vague, but it is not for others to see it as my lure to hook you in. (I hate that kind of fishing.) Please respect the fact that I am sharing my vulnerabilities. It is not for you to prey upon them. If anyone is reached along the way, then praise. It is not about me, but rather about the grace in my story that may in fact reach another. When navigating through mud, it can be quite comforting to know you are not alone, even when you deliberately choose to sit with the pigs (as I have often done). That the mud will eventually be wiped away. There is no shame in being refined. This is a delicate balance of utilizing any sort of social media. I walk a fine line of being careful not to dance in the land of over-sharing. Things are easily misconstrued or assumed. And we all know what happens when you ASSume...

Third, it is not easy to get help, seek counseling, or reach out. In my recovery, it was only when I hit rock rock bottom (imagine rock bottom, then add another 10 layers and 10 years--that is rock rock bottom), that I actually realized I didn't have to live at the bottom any longer. Getting help was one of the bravest (and most difficult) things I have ever done. And truly, I struggle through those brave moments. Even a year into it. I often lean heavily on an amazing support group. I would start the last decade over again in a heartbeat and apply all of the things I have learned today. Gladly, I would make healthier decisions and engage in all things positive. The patterns of my past were clearly NOT working so I am choosing to embark on this adventure of learning to live in light. To get out of the darkness and to heal the wounds. The process hurts. And sharing parts of this are painful, yet therapeutic. If you are feeling that getting counseling or going to therapy is weak, let me tell you friend, this process is not for the faint of heart. You are brave. Be brave because you are HIS.

This last week, there were words spoken by a wise gentleman at CR that completely defined my own state of mind from the years past providing quite the revelation for me... I stuff my feelings. After stuffing those feelings, I carry them. And as the bag of feelings gets full, I carry more and then stuff some more. Eventually, the bag overflows and I reach the point of breaking. Not usually a moment of rage, but more of a breaking point. And then I feel guilty for having those feelings. So after unloading in a meltdown, I gather up the broken pieces and put them back in the bag. I am now learning to work THROUGH the feelings and to communicate before it gets to this point. To unpack the bag and leave it at the cross. I am working through the mistakes and the hardships, especially the negative patterns of the past. I pray through them. I know that it is NEVER too late to change. And that it is ok to have hope that the journey will lead to transforming thoughts and choices. HOLD ON TO THAT HOPE.

I am currently working through making amends. Sadly, I am not sure that every situation will lead to peace (or bubblegum and soda pop), but at least I can take ownership for the hurt or pain I have caused. I pray that forgiveness takes place and that there is a hope for the future. I am not perfect. I have caused great hurt. What's worse is that I have hurt those I love most. I have not always been fair. I have a stubborn streak that is being tamed. I did not and do not always communicate well, but I sure as heck am trying. I have made mistakes and choices that greatly impacted my future and the future of others. That is where I am learning to forgive myself and to understand the work in it because the guilt and regrets of that are incredibly heavy. And last time I checked, the "rewind time machine" I so wanted from that episode of the Jetson's has still not been invented. Because trust me, I would cherish the moments I had. I would treasure the memories and moments with those that are no longer with me. I would do things differently. I would laugh more. I would be proud. I would encourage and not enable. And I would not have lost my voice to the point where I am now-- looking to find it again.

I have decided to keep the blog public. But please understand that this is MY journey. My story. Feel free to continue reading. And if you don't like it, stop reading. I am not here to force feed you.

I am a work in progress. This is a messy process. This journey is genuine. I am not molding for others. The mask is off. I am working to better myself and to build (and hopefully, rebuild) healthy relationships. I will not give up on those I love. I am not a quitter. And I didn't come this far to walk away.

Grace, peace, and love.
.ellen.

"Are you the sun? The center of the universe? Because you act like the sun. And you think that I am just a hunk of rock. The moon. Well, at least people can walk on the moon."

Cheeseburgers and Goldfish.

Gone are the days of the .39 cent cheeseburgers. (Thanks for that reminder, Leslie.) Gone is the day of the dorm-approved goldfish pet that somehow birthed at least a dozen little swimmers (get your minds out of the gutter) that we housed in a bucket. And let's not forget the death of our beloved Mrs. C. from Y & R. Those were the days. The good 'ol days. These current days look a lot different. The goldfish is long gone. RIP Nameless Goldfish (The name escapes me. I am sure it had something to do with Jackopierce or some random Smokejumper). And the cheeseburgers, oh the cheeseburgers. Curse you McDonald's. Curse you for jacking up your prices. And curse you for your processed food. And curse you body for not being able to eat 4 of those preservative filled patties without adding extra pounds just looking at you. I add 6 inches to my backside just pulling through that blasted drive-thru. Thankfully, the only thing about that economy cabin fast food joint I guilt on now is their iced coffee.

Anyhow, I am continuing in this process of navigating...I read through my blog posts and this blog seems more like an aimless wandering through unwritten chapters. I have not had afforded you all the grace of my indecent humor or my dry smirks. I have been dying to share with you my obsession with Quinoa (the girl, not the grain). Nor have I truly been able to share with you the life of Juanito, my long lost who-knows-what out in Gustine. Or that Byron Scott is seriously the new head coach for my beloved Lakers. (I bleed the purple and gold--even through the rare, but atrocious seasons.) And my days of sharing about my reality trash TV obsession are non-existent. Bummer for you. Or should I say, bummer for me because my TV is somewhere in storage.

I hear you, Stella. This is exhausting.

Instead, I do all sorts of introspective reflection. Ugh. Gross. And I am in the midst of having (or getting) to share those skeletons with my sponsor to clean out the cobwebs. Cuss. Trust me, I have a hilarious side. I often tell people I am the funniest person I know. Rather these days, I question who I truly trust. The funny is on reserve. There are few I let in the sacred rooms of my heart. And there are those I want to let in, but they have declined the invite. Or maybe it is just that they get lost trying to find their way (again or at all). And then comes a bucket of other wonderings...Who am I now? What the heck am I doing? Who do I want to allow in my inner circle? This crap is exhausting. I long for the days when the biggest question was "What am I going to wear tomorrow?" Or "What day of the week is it so we can get those .39 cent cardboard delights?" First world problems.

There are so many other "crazy" things to share. Like random (or more like divinely orchestrated) encounters with people that say they were supposed to meet me at this time or that, as they have something to share with me. I still marvel at the friendships that have rallied and taken root in the land of foreverness. (That is better than BFFs.) The void of one is filled with many. I am fulfilled. I am happy (working on the joy part). And I am thriving (on most days). All of it seems to be part of a bigger puzzle assembling behind the scenes. And I am in this holding pattern wondering what it all means and how this all will play out.

#partyanimals

So as this journey continues, I hope to share the brighter sides of life (or at least my brilliant humor). The good mixed with the bad. The days when you can eat whatever and not care. (Curse you, Whole 30!) Or spend excessive amounts of time watching goldfish. Because that is real important. Reals important. For now, I share today's highlight (other than two a-mazing client meetings and talking with a few different friends at random) was watching Duke continue his pursuit of fly-chasing as well as an impromptu photo op for a dear friend's birthday. With that, let me present to you, Duke and Stella.

Giants.

"Measure your giants not by our abilities but by the greatness of God." --Pastor Kurt

What a morning it was to return to church. Never anymore is God's timing surprising. Nor do I bat an eye anymore when I hear God's message that seems to speak directly to me. Of course, I highly doubt that Pastor Kurt (or as I know him as Kurtle, with rights to call him as such) writes his messages specifically with me in mind, but God definitely uses him to convey messages that pierce my soul and rock me to the core of my being. It isn't often I get on my spiritual soapbox, but there are moments that keep happening that shake me.

And so, like David defeated Goliath, we have Jehovah Sabaoth--God and His armies. There are giants in our lives that are far greater than anything we can slay. Instead, we have a God that has armies ready to lay (lie, lay, whatever--I retired my English teaching career) out flat. He wants to defeat the giants that are before us. Those giants might be people--bullies. I have bullies that I am currently facing. The things that I want to put to my rest. I am tired of the things that haunt my sleep. Perhaps the giants are finances. You (I) wonder how finances will be provided. And as Pastor Kurt said, the bills may not have the bank account to pay it, but it is not about OUR money that we need to consider. God's got you covered.

I wonder how things are going to play out. Where will I end up? What will I do? It is confusing. It is an act of complete faith and trust. We can't figure out what tomorrow will bring when God has already taken care of our todays. This season of life for me, as challenging as it may be, is a moment when I get to be in the homes of others. I still marvel at how I get to be part of families. I get to see the moments that make a family work and the things I want to model for my future. I am thankful I get to sit at the tables of others for meals. That I get to continue to spend time with friends near and far.

There are moments when I struggle thinking I had all the security in the world, or what I considered security. A full-time job. Benefits. A home of my own. A great car. Today, I don't have a steady full-time job. I am trying to start a company (great people have been part of that journey--bringing attention to the happy juice you have to drink when the highs and lows hit in entrepreneurship). I am navigating Obama Care (gotta do it). I live with friends (thankfully--and what a godly example they are to me and others. What a gift it is that they offered up their home to me as I am making some different decisions that have been unexpected). And my car is now always on the fritz these days (a current smell of mildew is lingering as there is a new leak--it is pretty amazing. Take a whiff). But in all reality, as I have been stripped from my comforts and routines, this is most definitely teaching me to give my heart FULLY to the God that created me. I have started the process to give Him part of it, but here I am, ready to give Him ALL of it. Back where I started. Home (which has a crazy new meaning). And ready to finish what has been started.

Thank you, Pastor Kurt, for your words. And thank you, Ed Plant, for saying it through art.

And on a sidenote, it is no coincidence that there is an Art Show at church this Saturday, right after I blogged about needing to tap into my creative side.

(Stepping down from spiritual soapbox)

p.s. I also feel like in the near future, I am going to share some things that tend to lean on the funny and on the vulnerable. As of late, I feel as though I have been a bit reflective and introspective, which suits my journaling needs, but I say this as I plan to share the other humorous pieces to this puzzle.

Creating Within.

In this transition of life, I am just barely tapping in to my creative side. Some people know my artistic roots, but not everyone knows how much my art is part of me. In the past, it was a way to communicate. It allowed me to escape. To dream. To create. And to be honest, in recent years, I can see how I stuffed my creativity to live the status quo. The dreams were just that too. Status quo and definitely on hold. I don't know if it can be attributed to the circumstances of life or the people with which I chose to have in my intimate circles. Somehow, I still let remnants of that crap still linger. Grrrr.

Anyhow, as I venture in this new chapter and in this year to thrive, I know that the creative stirring needs attention. I long to put pen to paper, brush to canvas, cloth to machine, party to planning. And to channel my energy into the avenues of making this a profession to become a possibility, which will turn the crud into creativity.

In having tea with a friend the other day, it became apparent through my confessions to her that I may have a fear of actually succeeding with anything creative, but with that also comes the accompanied anxiety of some forms of potential rejection. I don't think that it is really the rejection that scares me, but more of navigating through an unknown, though that seems to be such a strong reoccurring theme for me in this stage. For so long, I had chosen what was safe, expected, and what seemed the most convenient. I am beyond exhausted with that kind of living, but this fog isn't any more clear to me. Sometimes I feel like a zombie walking and we all know my gravitation towards zombies and monsters (not all of which are healthy).

All this to say, I suppose I journal these things in my blog to keep me accountable. To remind me that I need to use this time as a springboard to more creativity. And I am also promising to continue to step out of the mundane. The things that haunt my nights and storm my days will soon be defeated. I will not let the things of the past define what will be my future. There are things that I know are better left behind. Time to dream. To hope. To dust off the sewing machine and get all of my art supplies out. The visions are reviving. Characters are being born. Stories are being written. I am surrounded by those that celebrate with me and give me moments and space to think and design. There are those that believe so strongly in me that it gives me the strength and courage to do this. Some even provide the outlets. And so let the creating begin.

Paralyzing Drama.

It is hard to put into words what has transpired in the last 4 weeks, let alone the last 4 days or even 4 hours. My San Fran man "Bestest" says I have enough change to paralyze a small child. He's right. But somehow, I am making it work. There are those moments when you see it all at work, but I am now watching the pieces move so fast and there isn't even time for a pause button. As fast as I moved to San Diego, it looks as though I am moving back to the LA area. Opportunities are surfacing there that are potentially too good to pass up. Nothing is going according to plan, but in some ways, I think that this plan is better. Detours are being encountered, but it is nothing we can't overcome or celebrate.

There are many changes yet to endure. People are coming out of the woodworks to help me put together this second life. I am being offered places to live and job opportunities that are beyond expectations. I am learning so much about myself in this process. I don't regret one step of this journey thus far. Someone quite familiar with my path said to me that she understands the nights when you want the floor to swallow you whole, but that on the other side of this, I will see that life is far richer and that the experience has strengthened me more than I will ever know.

The cool part: The world is my oyster. (insert cheesy groans and a few yadah yadah yadah's) But I am getting to be creative. I feel the most alive I have ever felt. Maybe it is because I am clawing my way out of struggles, pains, and hardships to get to a place where people are real and genuine. Where I don't dread every minute of the clock. For now, am I scared? Heck yeah. Nervous? Beyond belief. But thankful still. I am getting to meet people that are way out of my comfort circle. I am spending time in the homes of so many wonderful people. I get to see their real life. To be part of their families for a bit. So many people are reaching out to be kind. To help. To love. To offer different things.

The hard part: Not knowing what is next. I suppose you could say that this is part of the ride, but it is also scary as I am not sure what tomorrow brings. This is humbling as I have never worked so hard, but I am learning what that work truly means. I will (hopefully soon) celebrate when the fruits of labor are fully manifesting, but I will celebrate with a great team of people that are supporting this process. It is shaping up to be one heck of a party (and we all know I love to plan a good party!)

So with vague-ness aside, let me be specific about what I am currently doing...I am working to build an event planning business called Studio Black Sheep. It is in the infant stages. After doing just about 200 of my own events, I have partnered with a party soulmate that matches, if not supersedes, my energy level. We have launched our website: www.thestudioblacksheep.com. If you have a birthday celebration, engagement, Christmas party, wedding, non-profit gala, whatever, we are in the business to make your life easier by being your own personal planners. We offer a range of services, so hit us up!

With Studio Black Sheep, one of our concierge services is in partnership with my former website: www.stellabluedress.com. We offer personal shopping for home and fashion as well as home organization. (Who doesn't need a good closet re-organize/purge?!) Let me shop with you and for you. One of my specialties is stretching a buck so don't be afraid that your credit cards will get maxed. You often can do some of the best shopping in your own closet!

So, as I am accustomed to saying...let the adventure continue.

Home.

Often in the last year or two, I've been struck with the sleepless nights. Anxiety and worry fill my every thought rather than dreams of puppies and unicorns. Recent nights are no different. Perhaps now, the nights feel worse, even with my toolbox of self help skills, a great support group, and CR. I spend the wee hours of the night awake. In the sleepless nights, I scroll through countless Pinterest images, play my Simpsons game on my iPhone to exhaustion, then after I've stalked the Facebook and Instagram posts of the day, I'm left stirring.

These days my thoughts wander to a feeling of home. I left my childhood home at age 18 (and it was sold in the last few years after the divorce of my parents). Since then I've had 13 roommates and 10 addresses in the last 17 years. And to date, in a sense, I feel homeless. My life is in boxes and a 130 square foot storage unit. I no longer have a DVR filled with my trashy TV to watch, or a fridge filled with my own expired leftovers and jars of who knows what. I don't have family photos hanging on the walls or my piles of nonsense to sort. Most of my furniture has been sold off. And I sleep on air mattresses and couches. Sure, much of this could be filed under first world problems, but ultimately there is a deeply rooted longing for "home." The plans I had were quickly stripped and rerouted. 

In reality, I could take this in a spiritual direction as we all should long for our eternal home. But I'm on earth. And Lord willing, I've got some good years left on this planet. So until I'm at those pearly gates, I long to walk in the door of my own place and collapse. I would like to cook a good meal. I'd like to be surrounded by faces of those I love. I want Stella to feel settled. I'd like to kick my feet up on the couch and talk endlessly to a friend with a glass of wine. And though I want these things, I can see that these last few years (as the wheels fell off so to speak), I've slowly been stripped of my every comfort and identity. I no longer have a job. I am not identified by a relationship of years. My address is TBD. No wonder I stay awake wondering what to do. Where do I matter. Who needs me. Am I even needed. What is my worth. Am I making the right decisions. Do I apply for this job or that. Will this feel normal. How do I move on.

My sister said it well in that this is my chance to be creative. To discover more of me. That I'm not identified by the place I work. The career I had. Or the people I dated. Easier said than done, but the seed has been planted. 

I wish I could say that I was totally satisfied. That all of this is one great big happy adventure. Instead, I question God. I yell at Him wondering when enough is enough. And just when I think I've cried every possible tear and I'm left feeling so empty and defeated, I get a Facebook post of encouragement from an old friend speaking to me of God's grace and favor. And then I get a card in the mail of bunnies and rainbows. Not that it fixed every problem, but it did remind me that at the end of my rope, I find the faithful friends that will pull a hamstring trying to do the splits in the air for my support. I don't have to live at the end.

This plan isn't my own. And though pieces of it are far better than I can imagine, there is a sadness wishing for what was. And my nagging and longing for the sense of home. 

Top 10 Life Days.

I think in lists. My brain works better that way. And so if we were making a Top 10 List of Awesome Life Days...I've got some good ones I'd rank. Seeing my second niece be born. The day Stella became mine. The day I started CR. Special days when people entered my life, etc. But now... Friday, June 6, 2014 might make the cut.

I guess you could say it should've been a stressful day. And to a very small extent, I felt a wee bit of pressure. Granted, I was the oldest one in the room by a good 10 years or so. But never did I feel stress. For I was finishing the last step in the interview process for a professional sports team. (Yes, friends, keep in mind, I've been a teacher for 14 years. How did I get here?!) It started with 600 applicants. 30 were chosen. 22 were given invites for the in-person process. And from that 22, 11 of us received "golden tickets" to attend the evening game and the final step of the process. In total, I met multiple executives. Chatted with 2 of the team's players while trying to play it cool (One of those players just so happens to be a personal favorite of mine. He's got a great handlebar mustache). Got suite access to watch the game. Met great people. And had an all-access tour of the "office." All on what was supposedly an interview with some of the most interesting and nicest people around for one of the most amazing organizations. (An interview/hiring process that literally lasted just under 12 hours.) It was a day I felt nothing but peace and grace. 

All said, 5-6 of us will be chosen for the actual positions. Sure, I can't lie. I want the job. Bad. It would be an incredible opportunity. A few perks that would make me a popular friend to have at parties. And a learning experience I would not pass up. But regardless, this was one of those moments when I think..."This is beyond me moments."

If this works out, my office will be a big stadium where men get paid to play a sport. My commute would be about a 10 minute walk from where I am currently living. In the heart of what is quickly becoming my favorite city. 

If it doesn't work out, I had an absolutely amazing day. I am thankful for those that helped get me to this process. (I owe you!) And through it all, I can easily be reminded that life is still at work. This is just another step in the new chapter of my second life. 

HardKore Rap (That's hardkore...with a K).

As I have 12.5 days left of my teaching career (not that I am counting), I am looking back on some major highlights (I will ignore the lowlights) of my career as a teacher. In all honesty, those that are teachers may understand that teaching is like starring in your own reality show. It is not that we are the stars, but we get to have this recurring role in a constant comedy act/drama/telenovela of entertainment in which we actually get paid. Certainly not the pay of A-list celebrities, but more like the pay of an "extra" that you have to search real hard to see in the shot.

In my last 14 years...

I have been told that my hair looks real nice, "like a Laker girl." (I will take that as most of those women have great hair.)

I may or may not have removed all of the chair and stools from a classroom and saran wrapped them together. Outside. In a pile. With a colleague that will remain nameless.

Did you know that "Jesus and his resurrection was boss?" (You do now, and you also know that resurrection is a vocab word.)

Dutchland is NOT where Dutch people are from. Certain students thought that was the case. Dutch people are from Holland (the Netherlands), but according to my former History student, those people are Hollish. And when I jokingly told the story to my colleagues and said some smart remark about her History teacher, I realized that yes, I was in fact said teacher.

Maturity: to not laugh at a stupid word like sex. (Yes, I did get that definition on a vocab quiz.)

Awkward moments abound. Come on, this is middle school. How can there not be a plethora of those?! I wish I could tell those stories too, but I am working on boundaries.

I have gone through stock in purple pens.

I have had my room littered with hundred of copies of the scientific drawings of the male and female sex organs. Copies of which I still find in my files to this day...years later.

There was once a wonderful persuasive essay written about why I should change a student's seat. The essay was quite effective as she did have a new view the next day in class.

I have learned how to do the Harlem shake. (There is a YouTube video to prove it. Ask my volleyball team.)

There have been wacky days, color days, dress up days. I have been Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, a daughter from Sound of Music, Rosie the Rivoter. I have dressed in duct tape. Had a skateboarder jump over me. I have shared my cancer journey in chapel.

I have been a Crusader my entire teaching career as it was the mascot of both schools.

Kids have molded and shaped me as a person. It is amazing that as I am supposed to be their teacher, yet it is I that gets to learn.

I have graded thousands of essays. Judged many speech meets. Had hundreds of parent conferences. Sent too many emails. Been yelled at. Loved. Appreciated. And blessed.

Worked for 6 principals (Mr. Peters, you are the reason I taught. You truly are a hero of mine). Served under 5 superintendents. Had many secretaries (All of which I adore and seem to keep the school in one piece--what a gift each of those women are to the staffs they have served!).

I have listened to many accents (including those of Duck Dynasty, robot sounds, teacher impressions--I guess I wave my hands a lot when I teach) as I witnessed many kids act out their vocab homework every Wednesday. French Fry Debates have packed on a few extra calories each year as it is key that I test the product (I still have my favorite fries--Fronks). The Grendel trial has been exciting.  Some natural born lawyers in those classes of mine.

Volleyball games, practices, and teams have been a chance for me to know students in a completely different element. We have been able to win championships and sportsmanships. We have seen a few seasons that we were just excited to be .500. Coaching has been incredible.

It has been a wonderful experience to know these kids. To be in relationship with them as teacher and coach. Mentor and friend. To see them succeed, graduate high school, finish college, get married and even start families. A few of my former students are even now on their third kid. (Amazing how that happens as I am 24 years old, according to my students...God love them.)

And this week, as we wrap up a track season (of great success), my Boys' Volleyball team plays for a championship (Come on, boys!) and we have our 14th and final French Fry Debate, I am reminded by my student (Bling, Bling Big Ed as he has asked me to call him), school is serious business. I am proud of each student. Proud of their work. Efforts. Joy. And perseverance into this journey as they become the person God has created each of them to be. School is hardkore with a "k." Call it skool, if you will. And when things get tough, it is so much better to break out in rap. Being a student can bring out the thug life, in your school uniform, of course.

             

Celebrate.

Nine months ago, I started a journey at the very bottom. The rock bottom. In the pit of my lowest despair. I was sitting in my pastor's office. I had tears flowing down my face and I think I used just about every kleenex in the box that day. In the midst of our conversation, he said that I would look back on that day and see that it was the start to a new life and that I would actually be thankful for it. Through my tear stained face and hurting head, I thought he had to be crazy. Why would I be thankful for a day that was my most difficult yet? (I even think it was more difficult than my cancer diagnosis day.) How would it be possible that life could really change that much?! Though now, a long term relationship had been put to death (and not only did I NOT want it to die, but I fight, even now to keep it alive). I was struggling through loss. Trying to figure out how or where I fit in. And I couldn't get through an hour without tears. This had become my life for so many years. The mundane was the norm. Trying to fix everyone and everything was my gig. I hadn't even thought of fixing myself. I was left feeling vulnerably raw.

Needless to say, I am now 9 months in. I have the chip to prove it. One of the tasks I had been given by PK was to attend a group called Celebrate Recovery. It is an amazing group of fellowship for those with hurts, habits, and hang-ups. There are people from all walks of life that attend CR. Celebrate Recovery is a group for those with any sort of issue ranging from adult children of family dysfunction, alcoholics, divorce, drug addicts, to anxiety, depression, addiction, etc. Truly, it is a group for humans. There is no shame in admitting struggle, hurts, or weakness. Every human being can benefit from such an incredible program. We all have baggage we deal with and carry, when in all reality, we should leave it at the cross. The price has been paid.  But I know, it is not easy. There are days I still walk back to the cross and try and pick up the baggage again like it is a lost appendage I just can't live without. You get used to carrying around the extra weight (and boy, I had been quite accustomed to carrying around a few extra hundred pounds). This is the beauty, however of CR (as well as church, great relationships, Christian fellowship, etc.). I need the constant reminder that I don't live in my past. The hurts are finished. The hang-ups are just that. Hung up. And my habits of old are replaced with good ones. I don't need to be anxious any longer. I don't have to live in the pits of despair.

I can't lie. This journey has been difficult. There are still down in the dump days. Insecurity still surfaces every now and then. Sorting through the past will be and has been painful at times, but it is also quite freeing. I have seen the patterns of chaos transform into healthier habits. It is incredible that God never wastes a hurt. Going through an intensive Step Study each week has revealed some ugly beasts that I am continuing to slay. Being in CR each week, I can see that God has redeemed the lives of so many, including my own. There is hope. I still walk in this journey with days of doubt. I still wonder why God is doing some of the things that He is within my heart and life. I still dabble in despair. The details of my future are often still unknown. I have moments when I mourn the death of certain relationships. It is normal (even though they were unhealthy, they still hurt). Those things were a huge part of me for so long. But this is my freedom walk. I am no longer bound by the chains that once kept me from pursuing dreams. I am no longer listening to the voices that say I am not good enough. I have ignored the "And if I just looked like this...Or if only I could be more like..." I am no longer helplessly chasing around believing in empty fairy tales, a false sense of reality and half-hearted promises that kept me hanging on for years. Instead, I can proudly say that Pastor Kurt was right. That hopeless day in July has turned out to be the best day of my life. It has allowed me to see that when I was finally ready to accept the change, that change truly has taken place. People see it in me. I see it in myself. I truly feel joy beyond all imagination. Life is full of hope and opportunity. I have formed lifelong friendships with my CR family. What a gift, a blessing I never imagined. They are people I get to lean on, learn from, and share with along the way. I have a new start and a fresh perspective. I've started creating again. Dreaming. Hoping. Living. Laughing. Enjoying. I am embarking on the best parts of the journey and starting to honestly reap the benefits of God's plan for me which has been far better than anything I could have imagined, hoped or dreamed. As cheesy as it may sound, I can see that His desires for me are so much more than what I could've planned for myself.

Though I struggle with anxiety, co-dependence, and other hang-ups, I am on the road to healthier habits. Nine months in and still going strong...

Goodbyes.

I am not good at goodbyes. And after an email from a friend, some of this is getting a little difficult to digest, like the beginning of goodbyes. I am starting to say them. It isn't like I'll never return to L.A. or that this is goodbye forever. Just the "goodbye for now" is harder to say.

After this weekend, it got real. Clearly, I need to sip on the juice of joy, but that it is not always easy. I was at Opening Day for the Dodgers vs. Padres. I was torn as to which team to root for (though I am always Dodger blue at heart). Walking in to Petco Park for the first time was an adrenaline rush for a thousand reasons. This. Is. Real.

The other side of reality is hitting me. I will not be returning to the cozy classroom I have called my home for the last 9 years (or better yet, teaching for 14). There is a bitter taste still sitting in my gut over that. I am leaving my home in which I have lived all of 8 or 9 months, (which was, looking back), a big kickstart to this process of change. But what I leave is bigger than all of that. I am leaving a comfort zone. For the last (almost) 36 years, I have been in a 15 mile radius of a safe, familiar nest. And now I am moving 100 some miles away. Am I excited? Of course. Anxious? A little. Sad? Definitely. Ready? Yes.

But there is so much I am going to miss...

-The familiar smell of the grass on the fields I line each week.
-My own space. 
-The daily hilarity of my students (on that, I could write my own book).
-The laughter and daily joys of my colleagues.
-Starbucks Thursdays with Kim.
-Knowing how to get places (though I still get lost in my own neighborhood).
-Coaching.
-The Dodgers. 
-Being able to meet up with friends at the drop of the hat.
-Having dinner with my mom any day of the week.
-The Warehouse family.
-Grill 'Em All.
-Stella's babysitters. 
-Crying in church next to Robin and PK (almost a weekly occurrence for me still).
-The suburbs (though the city life excites me).
-Clifton's.
-The relationships with other schools and ADs.
-CR on Wednesday nights.
-Coincidental run-ins.
-Going to Julie's for dinner to party plan with her and Jessica (but this WILL still happen).
-My shops I love to frequent.
-Doing laundry at Jav and Stephanie's (though I think this will still happen from time to time).
-Plenty of parking.
-L.A. life.
-Jolie and dates with her cuties (I love being their Tia--and still will be).
-The Lakers (though this has been an embarrassing season).
-My closet.

The list will go on. I am sure I will add to it. So don't be insulted if you aren't on the list. It is just hard to say goodbye and some things I am just not ready to accept.

This is my life.

 My dear friend Julie said I would get to a place in this new life of mine and I would have this moment, when the realization would set in and I would confidently and thankfully say, this is my life. Smirk smirk. Yeah right, I would get that glorious moment. But February happened. The highest highs and the lowest lows. (Once again, cue the singing angels and their harps--for the good parts, of course).

Nothing special ushered in the moment. But it happened. It hit me gently like a ton of fluffy bunnies. Like soda pop and bubble gum. This is my life. For a split second, I teared up and let all other thoughts escape. This. Is. My. Life. And though I immediately wanted to text my friend Julie to sing from rooftops about the moment that had just occurred, I let it all sink in with, what I am sure, was a silly smile of pure contentment on my face.

The Pee Monster.

As that moment (as well as that weekend) has been engraved in my memory as a treasure, I would say that our lives are far from perfect. We have our flaws and imperfections. And reality makes itself known often and loudly like bullhorns and dragsters. Reality hits in moments like when I dropped the cup of red salsa on the carpet at lunch. Brought partially raw brownies to treat for my colleagues. Having tons of unanswered questions about what is to come. Or after talking smack about another's mishaps, my phone charger starts its own sparking party, burning the charger and the outlet as I drive down the road. Or like when I wake up at 4 in the morning today, in a puddle of Grandma Stella's leaking bladder (for the 10th time). This is my life.

My parade has been peed on many times in the recent weeks. Life is messy. Literally and figuratively. It is a bit chaotic at times. It is unexpected. It is walking at times in blind faith. But somehow, I am always able to get back to the moment of...This is my life. The difference now in contrast from 6 months ago in is how I brace for the storms. And when they hit (as they are inevitable), thank God I have an umbrella and carpet cleaner because you just don't know if it will be a hurricane or a yellow puddle.  

Scars.

In church on Sunday, Todd talked about scars. It is a rare occasion that I don't cry in church. Today was no exception. As Todd shared about physical scars of his past, he said there are some scars we have in life that we should be proud of as it is proof we are living.

And as I think of my physical scars, I think of my cancer scar. It is a crooked line etched into my stomach. It is not beautiful in and of itself. However, it is beautiful for the story it tells. 7 years ago I was diagnosed with Stage III Ovarian Cancer with less than a 20% chance of survival. Thankfully, my scar shows that indeed I have survived by God's grace. 

There are scars harder to see. The ones of the heart. Though they are easier to hide, they often hurt worse than the physical scars. I have wounds that are healing still. Yet as Todd encouraged, after a while, you will look, and the scars will have vanished. Though you've been telling the story so long, you may not have noticed. There are stories of my past I've carried for so long that I don't want to carry them any longer. And in fact, the pain has lessened and the scars are starting to vanish.