I’m exhausted.

Tired. Like really tired.
I’m working on getting sleep when I can, but I’m not one to function well on interrupted sleep. Especially with a wonderful imagination that kicks in at 3:13am after I have put my crying baby back to sleep.
I’m like achy muscles, head hurts tired.
I’m cranky tired.
I’m easily offended and emotional tired.

I’m “if-you-complain-about-being-tired-because-you-were-out-all-night-but-still-slept-in-till-11am-without-interruption-and-you-have-a-full-48-hours-off-from-your-job” gonna kill you tired.
Unless you work 3 jobs, or are a mother I could slap the delusional version of tired right off your face.

Sorry, like I said, I’m cranky.
What’s worse is I’m lonely. Being a Mama is lonely, it’s thankless, it’s all consuming and exhausting.
I’ve willingly walked into this world, and don’t misunderstand me, I love my baby girl. She’s incredible. But this world is VERY different, and it’s taking me a little longer than I’d like to adjust.
Sure, I have friends, lots of non-parenting friends. Good people that sleep in, drink whiskey late at night, have long meaningful conversations that aren’t interrupted by crying, squealing, whining or anything else babies do. I’m not mad at them for living their lives that way. Heck, I used to do all those things, I just never see anyone anymore.
Life as a Mama is isolating. I can’t blame anyone for not inviting me anywhere, because my usual answer is “I can’t, I have the baby tonight” But every once in a while I might be able to go, so the occasional invite would be nice.
All I think about these days are nap schedules, making sure her cloth diapers are being laundered on time, getting the budget figured out, planning meals, and keeping house, all around said nap schedule.
I’m also terrible at making new friends, I have a very unique sense of humor that if attempted with the wrong crowd can create the most awkward moment of silence or scurried ramblings of my explanations as to why I said what I did and what I meant by it.

I am sarcastic, I am moody, and now I’m a Mommy.

What the heck does all of this mean? It means I am trying to figure out what the heck I’m talking about just as much as you are. “Where is the point?” you ask? Well, the point is, I am lonely, I suck at making friends, I am held captive to nap schedules, cold weather detouring an outing, and bits of anxiety that creep in from time to time.

To add to my “plate” which is actually more like a platter, we are making MAJOR life changes. Nope, I am not telling just yet. You’ll have to wait and see. (I promise I am NOT pregnant again)

Here is the point, I am writing this so that maybe another tired lonely Mama will read this and not feel alone. Not feel bad for having a hard time transitioning from a busy bustling life to weird lonely moments when the biggest event of your day was changing a poopy diaper after waiting a day and a half for your daughter to have a bowel movement, or seeing her smile at you while you dance around the room and she actually claps for you rather than looks at you like you have three heads.

Motherhood is weird. It’s exhausting. It is also amazing, I mean you are putting in like 18 years of work to mold a human being that will hopefully become the first female president. It is just hard to remember that future life when you are calming down a crying bundle of joy that is spitting drool all over your shoulder and pulling your hair because her teeth hurt.

ps. if you haven’t checked it out before go to Devour.com it’s the beesknees. Seriously, it’s awesome. Here’s a fun video I found on their website.

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Deuce and I have our own individual faiths. We don’t always agree on things, but we both agree that we want Finley to grow up with a certain set of morals and standards. We want her to be immersed in a community that will care for her, and cherish her. When someone mentioned to us that there would be a baby dedication coming up at the church, we had a quick conversation about whether we wanted to participate and we decided we would.

I honestly didn’t know what the difference between a baby dedication/baptism was, so I did some research. I discovered I actually like dedications more. I don’t believe baptisms “save your soul” I believe they are a physical representation of a new found faith in Christ, so baptizing a baby doesn’t make much sense to me. However, a dedication is our outward declaration as her parents that we will be purposeful in our faith so that it will positively effect her life.

The children’s pastor at our church is very passionate about her job and I’m thankful for that. She asked us to listen to mini-sermons the week prior on what this dedication means to us now as well as in the future. Along with the sermons, we were asked to submit answers to some questions like “Write a description of the kind of person you hope your child will become over the next 18 years.” our answer was as follows “Finley means fair warrior, and we named her that for a reason. We want her to have strength, courage and tenacity in every area of her life. We want her to be deliberate in her relationships, we want all of this intention to come from her relationship with God. That she will be so intertwined in His love as she grows up that she will have no choice but to share that love with others around her. We want to see her follow her heart and be passionate about her life.
We want Finley to grow up with an eagerness to learn. not be afraid to question, to know that she is loved, and share her love with others, to always be open and accepting to the world around her, not to judge but be empathetic, to look at everything through open eyes and an open heart. “

At the service we and three other families were called up to the front where they showed a quick slideshow of pictures of the adorables we were holding, and then the Children’s pastor talked a bit to us/congregation on the importance of what this day meant. She read our answer to the homework, and then asked any friends and family invited to come forward to pray for us.

Now, I have a great group of friends. They are like family. Not many of them are church goers, so I knew that when they showed up to support us by sitting in a pew in our church, it was a big deal. As our pastor called friends and family up to pray for the parents, I imagined looking up and seeing a few of our friends come forward, what I saw was all 13 of them in a line coming down to the front. It meant so much to me, that yes, I got teary eyed.

The community Deuce and I have around us is something I have craved for years, and here it is. It is something beautiful and I cherish it. It means so much to know that our little girl is surrounded with people who are so honest, loving and genuinely caring people no matter their faith. They just love because they should. That is exactly what we want in Finley’s life, and I am so thankful it’s what we have.

PS. I am INFATUATED with this song.

We have a beautiful 6 mo old little girl who is a bright, strong, tenacious, wonder. (be careful what you name your children, they just might live up to the meaning of their name!) Finley=fair warrior.
Deuce has a new job he loves. I was able to pay all of our bills this month with no worry.

Our thanksgiving was perfect.
We have an “open door” policy in our home. Nobody should be alone on a holiday, and although we invited TONS of people, only a few came, they didn’t know each other, but we all got along great. No drama, great conversation, fun games, amazing food!

We have made a few friends in this last year that I consider family. We try to have dinner together regularly, we are all intertwined in each others lives, and I couldn’t be more thankful for them.
Our church friends have been amazing, meeting lots of new Mommies has helped me not feel so overwhelmed and nutty in this new season of my life!
I have rekindled friendships from college as well, and having those friends back in my life that I knew 12 years ago is unusually comforting.
However, through all of this, the person who sticks out in my mind the most is a dear friend I won’t name, (because she’ll kill me.) But she has been through hell and back, she is on her own with three beautiful children. The trials she faces on a daily basis daunt me, yet she takes them in stride. She is my super hero. My fuel.
Even though we live hundreds of miles apart I feel very close to her. Never once have I heard her complain about why she is in the place she is, or who put her there. She is always worried about me, and even got all of her bible study friends to donate a box of baby awesomeness to me before Fin arrived that I’m still going through and feeling blessed by!
I even received her handmade Christmas card yesterday, and here I am wondering how to make the time to vacuum!
So for you I am thankful!!
God really has blessed us in ways I never thought possible.
One thing I have learned throughout all of the shit we’ve been through is you really have no control over anything but your own attitude. And once you put some rose colored glasses on, things start changing.

Before we decided to move to Portland Deuce was looking for a good paying “career” job.
Then we moved, and if you’ve read my early posts you will know we were in major financial hardship because we held crappy jobs. Deuce couldn’t even get a job pumping gas. Then, due to circumstances out of our control we moved back to Denver in July of 2010. I found a job making coffee, but Deuce found nothing. He kept looking. Then, he got an interview with the city of Denver. It was for a part-time, temporary position working for LEAP. It was work, we were happy. It didn’t pay much, and if you know Deuce, you know he hated it. He was stuck behind a desk, and really wasn’t being utilized to the best of his abilities. I married a brilliant, A.D.D. riddled man. He needs to be challenged, and this job, wasn’t paying well and wasn’t challenging him. But his supervisors loved him, so they did what they could to keep him around. There were promises of promotions, various job leads in different departments, the works. But nothing ever panned out. When he got the job he knew the position would end 8 months from his start date, so he was on the job hunt from day one.
I think all in all he had over 150 applications floating around. He had one interview, but no call back.
Needless to say, we were discouraged.

Now, I believe it is my job as a wife to be my husbands number one fan. His personal cheerleader. I tried my hardest to stay positive, but I know I failed every now and then. It’s hard to stay positive when you feel like an ant under a magnifying glass, at first the rays of sunshine are nice and warm, then all of a sudden you are on fire and you can’t seem to save yourself.
Then I dedicated to praying a specific prayer. I wrote a prayer on November 3rd 2010, and would read it during my prayer time.
On November 3rd 2011 Deuce got the call that my prayer had been answered.

 
A little history.

In August we visited Deuce’s family, during that trip Deuce was chatting with an old family friend, we’ll call him DS. After catching up and realizing that Deuce was in dire need of a career job, DS told him he’d help him as much as he could. So when we got home, Deuce and I sat down and really fine tuned his resume. Sent it off to DS and after some more editing he thought the resume looked good. He sent it off to a few colleagues, and within days he received a response.
The interview was set, neither one of us really wanted to get our hopes up.
Even after the interview, we still didn’t know what to think, Deuce thought he had nailed it, but there had been so many other times he thought “he had it in the bag” only to never hear back about the job.
Finally the owner called back, and invited Deuce to a second interview, which ended up being a meeting with all the project managers. Deuce sat down with eight other men at the conference table. The owner handed everyone except Deuce a piece of paper and said “Alright, this is Laird, you have his resume in your hands. I want to bring him on as a project manager, what do you think?” This was news to Deuce, and then someone spoke up, and wasn’t too keen on the idea of bringing him on. “What about Michael? He is much more experienced than this guy.” (Remember, Deuce is literally sitting right next to the disgruntled employee.)

After some back and forth between the owner and this guy that really didn’t see the point in bringing Deuce on board, Deuce spoke up on his behalf and gave a great speech on how he may not have technical experience but he’s a fast learner and already has learned quite a bit about this job and presented them with blue prints and print outs that showed them he really had done his homework.

After he said all he could to defend himself, the crew was on his side and approved his joining the team.

He has worked two days in the office, and is exhausted when he comes home, but I haven’t seen him this happy in years. It almost doesn’t feel real that he has this job. We’ve been going through such hardship for so long that I don’t know what to do with this turn of events.

But I thank God every day for this job. I thank him every day for all the hardship that makes this new chapter in our lives that much sweeter. I thank him for providing for us and giving Deuce a job that couldn’t be more tailored for him if he had created it himself.

We were blessed when we were in our darkest hour, and we continue to be blessed now, when rays of hope are shining through.

I have been bad at adding my PS’s so here you go:

This song is killer and the topic of this post makes me want to dance like this. Enjoy!

motherhood by MY definition: an unbelievably exhausting, demanding, physically strenuous, never-ending job that is beyond boring at times, yet you feel so overwhelmed with responsibility that your brain feels like it is being pulled in 38 different directions because logic and reason are no longer a part of your thinking process.

Last week my back went out. “Were you picking up Fin?” was the main question I got when people asked how I did it. “Nope, I was simply walking across the room, and BAM it hit me.” Now when I say it went out, I mean I was laid out for 2 days and could barely move without making my nerve endings cringe. Needless to say this prohibited me from taking care of my 5 month old daughter. I mean, sitting up almost brought me to tears, there was no way I could pick her up. You never realize how much you use your back until you are a Mom. But I am lucky and my sister lives with us, so she was around when it went out, and was able to take care of Fin and I the next day and Deuce took a day off of work to help out as well.

When I went to see my chiropractor, (who is a little out there, but he’s cheap and get’s the job done) he said “hhmmm, now it feels like this is due to emotional stress” I kind of laughed even though it sent crazy pain down my spine at this comment, because DUH yeah, emotional stress is sort of the name of the game when you are a Mother, COME ON doc!

Let’s be honest, my life isn’t so bad. I have an awesome hubby, a great family that is always there when I need them, supporting us at every turn, no questions asked. We have fantastic friends, (thank you EC for taking me to the doctor and watching Finnie when I was down for the count) our home is great, and we have food on the table. So, what could I possibly be stressed out over?

The baby.

Yes, she’s healthy, very active, super smart, developing at the rate she should and we couldn’t be more blessed. What stresses me out is all the decisions concerning her well-being. You see, there are all of these aspects to babies.

Eating:

When she’s an infant, do we do breast milk or formula? We chose breast milk, but then there is the major issue of actually getting the hang of that. Plus I’ve had to totally alter my diet due to allergies she has to cow milk and soy. Then as she gets older comes the issue of giving her solids. WHEN should we do it, should we wait till 6 months like it’s recommended? or start earlier? When we do give her solids, what should we give her, and at what time of the day? Then I have to keep on eye on her bowel movements to make sure she’s not allergic to any solids we have tried, and keep track of how often they happen to make sure the food hasn’t constipated her.

Mental development:

I am always concerned that I’m not stimulating her enough, that she isn’t spending enough time on the floor doing “tummy time” or that I’m not reading to her often enough. Is she holding her head up right? rolling on time? why isn’t she sitting up on her own yet? What about baby sign, am I confusing her when I try it?

Health:

It’s flu season, and I don’t want her to get sick. Why would I? She’s only 5 months old. So I’m always making sure she’s warm enough since the temp dropped, I’m getting enough of the right foods in my diet to fortify her milk, and what about random people coming up and putting their grubby dirty hands all up in her grill. Do people not realize babies put their hands in their mouths? So if they grab her hand, they are essentially putting their hand in her mouth. Where has their hand been? I know they didn’t wash it recently. Then there are vaccinations. I honestly feel like in order to make the proper decisions I need to have my PhD. I am not one to just do what the doctors tell me, I am a little hesitant of western medicine,(and the government) and I think our country is over medicated. SO I want to be educated before I allow anything injected in my child. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t completely write off western medicine, there are reasons we have the medicines and vaccinations we do, I just think being educated on the subject is wise. (Are you curious how we are vaccinating? We are doing a delayed selective schedule. Judge all you want. We’ve done our research, and that’s what works best for our family.)

Sleeping:

Now, this is my current dilemma. I nurse her to sleep, I lay her down asleep, she sometimes naps in my arms, (because quite frankly, this kid won’t sleep during the day otherwise) and when she wakes up in the middle of the night, I nurse her back to sleep. this has been working for me. She goes to sleep usually around 8:30pm, wakes up at 3 then again at 7. I can’t complain. However, it’s a little exhausting when I’m literally the only person who can put her to sleep. Others have tried, but to no avail. Their efforts are futile. So then I worry that I am making her too dependent on me, that I should be sleep training her to go to sleep on her own, to self soothe. But then I think, she isn’t a cuddly baby, she is very active, so I want to cherish the time I have nursing her. It’s a very bonding experience, and I honestly love it. I don’t want to push her to be more independent, because she already is very independent. So I go back and forth, is what I’m doing right? Should I change things up? Do I continue doing what just feels right, or is what feels right just easy and therefore a cop-out?

So these are just SOME of the things that could be causing emotional stress. Motherhood is beyond just keeping the baby alive. (If you want to be a good parent, that is) There should really be a degree program offered at the local university on parenting. It’s quite ridiculous that there isn’t. I mean, people do this without any knowledge whatsoever. I have lots of knowledge in the world of children, and I still feel lost.

Now, even though I’ve just listed every woe and worry in my brain that does not mean I’m walking around pulling out chunks of my hair. (I’m doing that because I was just pregnant, and that’s just another fun side effect to pregnancy, no hair loss during, crazy hair loss AFTER) I am quite content with our parenting choices, and when I need advice, I go to the sources I trust the most (mostly my older sister, aka SuperMom, aka Mom to six)

So next time a Mom pulls her cart up behind you in the checkout aisle dealing with a screaming baby, maybe buy her a candy bar and give her a big smile and tell her she’s amazing. Because what took you 20 minutes to accomplish in that grocery store has taken her 45 minutes, and she probably doesn’t have everything in her cart that is on her list. (There have been times in my shopping ventures that I have had to leave the store with only half of my list crossed off because Fin is SCREAMING.)

(PS. to further prove my point, it has taken me 4 days to write this blog due to baby.)

It wasn’t the company that ruined the trip, Christy was a blast, it was my body that wasn’t very nice. The last time I shopped without a baby inside of me was about a year ago, and things were quite different then. I was probably the thinnest I’ve ever been in my adult life, and clothes fit me like a dream.

Am I coming off vain? It’s probably because to some degree, I am. I mean, aren’t we all?

I like clothes… I enjoy the vast possibilities that clothes give a person to express themselves. I’m not talking about collecting designer labels and spending massive amounts of cash on pieces that don’t deserve the price tag attached. I’m talking about being creative with articles of clothing that you find at Goodwill, or Target, or even… Forever 21. (I know I shouldn’t shop there… it’s hard for me to stop ok!?)

Working in the fashion industry for so long, I learned a lot about clothes. I learned to never let a number dictate how you shop. Buy something because it fits right, don’t go home crying because you tried a 5 on in one shop but the next shop you were in a 9. These numbers mean nothing. It is really up to the manufacturer as to what little magic/evil number to put on their sizing labels. Most major clothing lines use small numbers for bigger sizes to make shoppers feel better about themselves, thus buying more. It’s a smart strategy that works! I however, worked for a company based out of Italy, and let me tell you right now, European sizes are a whole different ballgame. There were many a crying woman I talked down from the ledge and into a great pair of jeans because she “wore a size 25 waist at (fill in the shop name of your choice) and now she’s in a 29!” by explaining the evil ways of clothing companies.

As much as I understand this marketing ploy, I’m still a sucker for fitting into small numbers.

You see, I have been 5’11″ since I was 12 years old. I’ve always weighed about 10-20lbs more than my girlfriends, because I’ve usually had 2-9 inches on them. When you are 13, this is a LITTLE hard to deal with, and by a little, I mean a LOT!

I never had a lot of boyfriends, apparently a tall blonde girl intimidates young pubescent boys finding their gumption to even look a girl in the eye when talking to her, let alone stand on his tiptoes to ask her to a movie. So that didn’t really help my self-esteem, and don’t even get me started on my shoe size. I hate any girl with a size 5 foot. Not really, I’m just super jealous they can wear all the cute shoes that my big ol’ feet wouldn’t dream of making a fool of. (You know you’ve all seen that woman with HUGE feet in shoes that look like they are being used as torture devices rather than fashion statements.)

After years of not liking my height, I got used to it, and I embraced it. I liked myself (somewhat) and was happy with how I looked, then I had a baby. A baby that came out healthy, and beautiful and perfect, and she did a number on my body. I gained 35lbs by the end of the pregnancy, and I lost 20 of that by the time I went in for my 2 week post partum checkup. It’s the last 15 I’m having a hard time with.

Now, I’m fully aware that you hate me at this point of the blog. I didn’t gain that much during my pregnancy, it was a healthy amount, and I carried it really well. I have been breastfeeding, which helps the pounds fall off, and I really don’t have it that bad.

That is my point. I can’t even be happy with the fact that there is nothing for me to fret over.

I will have moments of clarity where I realize that my body is pretty darn close to where it was before baby, and I am lucky. Lots of women have a hard time shedding the baby weight. I need to get over myself and be happy.

During our shopping trip I think my sister was going to knock my block off if I had said “I wish I was still my old size!” one more time, but after the umpteenth time of saying something along those lines she turned around, sternly looked at me and said “You are not fat, shut up already!”

So why am I laying out my body issues for all to see? Because I just had a daughter, and that scares me. How will I even come close to teaching her to love herself no matter what the media tells her to look like if I can’t do it myself?

Here are my ideas:

I will ATTEMPT to focus on my health, not my waist size.

I will ATTEMPT to not complain about how I look in front of her.

I will ATTEMPT to be confident in myself no matter my size.

I will ATTEMPT to have my actions speak louder than my words.

I know that it is inevitable for her to have some faulty view of her body because of movies and photo shopped pictures in magazines, but I will try my damnedest to lift her up and help her focus on her mind and her spirituality and her happiness. I named her Finley for a reason, it means fair warrior. I want my little girl to grow up to be strong and fight this world along with all the other strong women in my family.

The best way I can do that, is by living that way myself.

This is an artist that inspires all that confidence stuff I’m talking about. She’s not your typical beauty, but I think she’s gorgeous.

When I moved to Oregon a year and a half ago by myself, I was quite lonely. I knew my roommates, and some of my new co-workers. But I was basically starting our new life alone since Deuce couldn’t move up to be with me for a few months.

Deuce was able to visit periodically since he worked for an airline that gave him free flights which made it a bit easier. He had a few friends he had made during snowboard trips out to Portland in previous years, and he would try to get everyone together so I would know more people and not feel so lonely. (I have a great husband, don’t I?)

I remember the first time I met Casey. I was at work and up on this ridiculously tall ladder trying to hang this new display I was jimmy-rigging to the old brick wall. I heard someone say “Hi, are you Beth?” down below, and I looked down and saw this guy I didn’t recognize, and I could not for the life of me figure out why he knew my name. I hesitantly said yes I was, and he promptly informed me that he was Deuce’s snowboarding buddy as I’m sure he could see I was a little confused. Deuce was due for a visit that weekend, and Casey was going to meet him at my store and they were going to catch up while they waited for me to get off work then we’d all hang out together.

Casey would randomly invite me out to lunch’s and dinner’s with he and his roomie Ryan and sometimes I would join them, and sometimes I’d be so tired from the long work day, I’d just head home. But I just remember Casey always being really inviting and making me feel welcome.

During another one of Deuce’s visits he invited Casey to the house we were staying at which was an hour or so away from the city. Deuce said Casey’s girlfriend Liz would be joining, and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know a lot of Deuce’s snowboard buddies, but the few I did were really into outdoor sports, and I rarely had anything in common with them, so I didn’t expect to really hit it off with her. When they got there I was quite surprised. Liz wasn’t at all what I expected. She was super fashionable, really pretty, funny, and actually worked in fashion merchandising as well. I was so relieved to have finally met someone outside of work that I had something in common with. She was the first person I met that made me think that maybe this move wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe I would fit in somewhere among all the snowboarders.

From then on, whenever I saw Liz and Casey they made me feel like we’d been friends for years. They always greeted me with a huge hug and a smile and I realized, they were two of the most genuine people I knew. There were times that I’d stay at Casey’s house so as to not have to drive my hour commute and save on gas. He and Liz would always make a bed for me, and I would repay them with random Diesel props that I thought they’d like.

They even had us over for Thanksgiving with their families and it was one of the best days we had while we lived there.

Moving and living in Portland was very difficult for me. I had left my life behind, my family was on the other side of the country, my friends were all in Denver and for the first few months, I didn’t even have Deuce around. Liz and Casey were always like a breath of fresh air. They immediately brought Deuce and I into their family, and probably don’t know it, but were huge supports for the both of us.

I know I wasn’t as social as I wish I would have been while we lived in Portland, I was dealing with major anxiety and stress, especially in those last months. We were broke, I was living on PBR and PB&J’s, walking everywhere to save gas, then we had to suddenly move with a few week’s notice. (I lost 15lbs in that last month we were there.) My stress level inhibited my sociability but Liz and Casey still pursued Deuce and I. We had many a good night filled with champagne and fire in a barrel down at the mountain house. (FIRE SCIENCE!)

When we moved back to Denver, Casey asked if he and Liz could stay with us for a week during SIA (it’s a big snow sports convention that happens every year) and of course we said yes, and were really excited to see them. The trip was great, I wasn’t able to join them while they went out at night since I was 6 months pregnant, but we had a blast, we celebrated Liz’s birthday with a phenomenal dinner, and they were able to snowboard a bit. There were a few days Liz wasn’t feeling well, but we all chalked it up to altitude sickness.

A few months later we got word from a mutual friend that Liz was in the ER. I remember we were at church and Deuce showed me the text. We both started praying, and then Deuce left to call Casey. He didn’t answer, so Deuce left a message. A few hours later Casey called frantic. He asked us to recall the name of the restaurant we ate at for Liz’s birthday, and then to help him remember the series of events during their trip here. We told him the information, and he quickly got off the phone. It was worse than we thought.

What we had thought was altitude sickness wasn’t. They couldn’t figure out what was going on with her when they had arrived back in Portland from Denver, and she was sick off and on for months. She would go to various doctors, naturopaths, acupuncturists, regular doctors, you name it. Then one day, she and her sister were on the way home from an acupuncturist when Liz went unconscious. Things got worse, so they took her to the ER. After lots of tests and waiting, they discovered a brain tumor. Stage 4 glioblastoma. Inoperable. We were devastated with this news.

Casey, as usual was Mr.Positive. I remember he said “At least we know what it is now, and we can start fighting it!” I was blown away at his attitude. I was flipping through his FB pictures one day, and saw him sporting a T-shirt that said “Don’t worry be happy” on it, in LA Lakers colors, and just thought it was some sports thing. Then I realized, no, this had something to do with Liz.

There’s a great organization called DWBH that sells these shirts to support Cancer warriors, as they put it, with their medical bills. We immediately bought some for ourselves and one for Finley who was due to arrive later that month.

Liz is fighting hard. Casey is fighting hard. They are enjoying each other and their families and life. She is as beautiful as ever, and still sports her brilliant smile in every picture I see.

We decided Finley should wear her DWBH shirt home from the hospital, and then we decided we all would. It was great telling the nurse’s in the maternity ward what the shirts were for. One of them even cried as we told her the story.

Liz is a bright light, a very bright buzzing brilliant light that you bask in and can’t help but smile and be joyful around. She is amazing. She is a fighter. She and Casey both are two of the best human beings I have been blessed to have in my life, and I know Deuce feels the same way.

She recently posted brain scan photo’s on her FB and they were amazing. The tumor is getting smaller. She is healing. For that I am thankful. I think about her at least 5 times a day. When I think of her, I am reminded that whatever is bothering me, shouldn’t. That Liz is battling cancer, and is still smiling. I need to find every bit of joy in my life, because there is so much to be had.

I wear my DWBH t-shirt often. A. I LOVE how comfy it is. B. People look at it and smile, when they think of the song. C. The song gets stuck in my head all day when I wear it, which makes me happy D.I love to tell people about Liz and share her life with others.

Liz also has friends who created this website that you can donate money directly to her to help her pay her massive medical bills. They have raised nearly $25,000 since April. It’s amazing what friends and family can do when they work together isn’t it?

So Liz, you inspire me, you have from day one. I hope that today is brighter than yesterday and that we will see you soon! Besides, you need to meet your biggest supporter, Miss Finley! Love you.

However, one conversation that was had that evening got me thinking. My sister, Deuce and I were chatting with the gay couple that lives behind us. One of them asked Deuce if the rumor he had heard about Deuce and our roommate being in a book club was actually true. When Deuce told him that yes, he was a member of a book club, our neighbor was quite surprised.

Deuce is usually seen by our neighbors in his grubby clothes which are covered in grease while he is in the garage working on his motorcycles. I can see how the idea that he can read, chooses to do so on a regular basis, then share his ideas with other men is quite odd.

When our neighbor asked what sort of books the guys read, and Deuce told him the books are theologically based, he was intrigued. He and Deuce talked while my sister and I continued our conversation with his partner. The conversation tapered off, and we ended up talking with a friend of mine who had just walked into the party.

As the evening wore on, I mentioned to Deuce that we needed to begin our goodbyes. Several minutes later, my annoyance level began to rise as I noticed Deuce was not only still deep in conversation with our neighbors, but he was now lifting his shirt to show off the tattoo on his back. (which is a very long Bible verse.) When I see that happen, I know it’s time to cut things short, because either Deuce is getting into debate over religion or creating more topics of discussion which means we’ll NEVER get out of where we are. I knew I had to break it up.

I walked over, and when I tuned into the conversation I heard our neighbor telling Deuce that he was a former youth pastor, and that he had moved to Denver specifically to attend Denver Seminary. That he had finally found a church he felt was in line with his beliefs, which happened to be very traditional.

I must admit, this is not what I expected to hear when I walked up to them.

Now let me get one thing VERY clear. I have no issues with homosexuality. Not one. I don’t think it is a sin, I don’t think the church should try to “pray the gay” out of anyone. I believe in love, that people are born the way they are, that God loves them just as much as he loves me, and I have no right or place to tell anyone who they can, or cannot love if everyone involved is of legal age and willing to be loved.

I will say now, that I was surprised to hear that this older gay man was so involved in the church. Not because I think you can’t have faith if you are gay. But because I know how horrible the church usually is to the gay community, which in turn makes it very difficult for anyone of a different sexual orientation to be open within the church at all, let alone go to school at seminary.

After we eventually left the party and were heading out to another friend’s house I started thinking about my preconceptions towards others and how when I think I start to get things figured out, when I feel like I’m arriving at some sort of state of understanding of my world, I am again reminded that this world I think I know, is always changing, developing and the only constant is that things will never be the same. Which in this case, is a great thing.

Lately, I have been  hearing a lot about what Christ intended the church to be and how we don’t usually fall in line with his direction, and what we can do to change it. (I use the word ‘we’ in reference to the people who make up the church.)

I recently heard a sermon at our church about connecting in our community, not just in our comfortable circle of friends. Then a podcast on how Christ lived out his love, and another sermon given by a guest speaker at our church reiterating the life of Christ. I also just finished Rob Bell’s latest book Love Wins which as you can gather from the title talks about God’s love.

Now, talking about Christ’s life is an easy sermon to give. There isn’t a whole lot of new ground to be discovered on the topic, but it is clear that we need to be reminded of it constantly (and apparently I’m high on that list.)

The random encounter Deuce had with our neighbors was meant to be. I wasn’t too keen on attending the party to begin with, Finley is at an age where going anywhere is a chore, and we had promised others we’d be at their party as well. I didn’t want to over-do the events and over stimulate her. But, having a very social husband, I agreed to swing by and wish our neighbor a happy birthday. It was going to be a quick visit, but turned out to be much more than that, and I’m thankful for that.I was able to see and hear about how maybe people in the church are starting to get it. This neighbor who is openly gay can attend a church without fear of ridicule, and that, is beautiful!!

We are given the gift of knowledge and understanding every day. It is our choice to see it, glean from it, and grow into better people. I’m thankful I was given that gift that night.