In the meantime

In the meantime….

My downstairs toilet made a gurgling noise two nights ago.  There was nothing in the toilet so I flushed it to see if the noise would stop.  Instead of flushing down, water rose to the top.  Despite my professional plunger efforts, the water would not go down.

I shut the water valve to the toilet off before running to home depot (literally across the street)  to purchase Green Goblin to destroy the issue…I thought.  I always used this in our old home and had great success.  Anywho…never had to use the Green Goblin as I returned home and saw that the toilet had drained.  Whew.  Bullet dodged.

I made a quick trip to Walmart (a block away) to grab a few groceries…maybe gone 20 minutes.  I came back to such a surprise!  Poop water (aka sewage…aka Class 3 according to the restoration man) had flooded every crevice from the downstairs bathroom, down the hall, down the stairs into my split level living room and into the living room.

An.explosion.of.poop.  Everybody’s poop.  Thank God my adrenaline was pumping so hard that I didn’t have time to stop and reflect on the new floor covering.  I knew my friend was on his way over so we could watch a movie and have dinner.  Honestly, my first thoughts were that he was going to gross out and leave me here to deal with this.  I would need to call my brother or my ex husband.

I had begun laying towels everywhere when friend (we will call him D) walked in.  I yelled for him to be careful.  Without explanation; he knew what was on the floor.  Instead of leaving, he grabbed towels and started helping me with the mess.  Together we cleaned, using every single towel, sheet and blanket that we could find.  I know…gross.

We had almost everything cleaned.  I began my second round of sanitizing laundry and we decided to go to Home Depot for a big mop.  We made another expedient trip there, grabbed a mop and $5 mop  bucket (Did you know some mop buckets cost $70 or more?)

We came home, ready to mop and sanitize; shower and order dinner…in that order!  Can you imagine the expletives that sounded when we walked in to find that sudsy water had now flooded the entire living room floor? As a matter of fact, that water was still shooting out of the sink in the bar area as well as from underneath the sink where the pipes are.

We did our best to keep up but it would not stop (yes, D shut the water valve under the sink off).  He mopped, and I (with gloved hands) squeezed the mop….since I didn’t buy the $70 bucket with the squeezee apparatus.  We were our own Saturday Night Live episode…from back in the good ole days…when SNL was super funny!

D told me to shut the washing machine off when he surmised that is where the water was coming from.  He was correct.  The pouring of water stopped.  Finally.  The floor was soaked, we were drenched in water and poo water and all the yuck; still we were laughing.  So thankful for D’s presence and willingness to help….sometimes we need a friend to help us not become blithering balls of tears curled up in the fetal position, right?  Sometimes those friends are the same ones laying curled up with us…but that’s for another post.

I felt that the floor needed just one more round with the mop.  D told me we had done all we could for the night; the floor was slippery and I needed to stay off of it so I didn’t fall.  I know I have balance issues, true.  I didn’t realize the floor was quite as slippery as it was.

Being a tiny bit of a stubborn soul, I decided yes to one more round with the mop.  I headed down the steps into the living room.  My bare feet gave way to the wet floor.  There I was…on my bottom, sliding down the hard, sharp edged stairs.  One, two, three, I hit each of them with my booty, tailbone and right hip.  Ouch.

This was reminiscent of being a little kid who loved sliding down the carpeted stairs on her booty.  Reminiscent because I slid down so easily; yet entirely a different experience.  D helped me up.  Kind of.  As much as I would allow. Falling tends to make me feel fearful…too much passing out as a kid.  Yuck.

Anyway….I had attempted to call my property management company emergency number several times, as well as their office, when this was happening.  I never got a call back.  I finally reached out the the owner of my condo and told him.  He was sending a plumber in the morning.  I felt it needed to be right then, but I am not the decider of all things.

In the morning, the property management company called.  By now, I was fuming that they had not called me and been a part of any of this.  Long story short, the office person tends to be extremely rude, makes me feel like a criminal any time I report something and now was asking numerous questions that supported her past behavior.  I felt she was trying to make this my fault.

I sent an email of complaint and asked for her supervisors number.  I did not get that yet.  I have gotten a sudden amount of kindness when she speaks to me.  I still want to speak with the supervisor.

The restoration company is now ripping out the entire living room floor bc of the class 3 damage.  When the owner was speaking with the property management company, she asked him to step away from me to talk.  This was obvious and confirmed when I asked him about it later. My mistrust in her affirmed in that moment.

Thank God the plumber found NOTHING in the system that was not supposed to be there.  I was well aware that if the clog were due to feminine products, we would be responsible.  (We grew up with a very touchy septic system and our Daddy drilled it into our heads that only toilet paper went down the toilet.  If there was a clog, we girls knew the first question from Dad would be; “Did you flush anything that shouldn’t be flushed?”) My daughter and I are both extremely cautious about this as are our guests (at least we make them aware…I never have actually accompanied anyone on their potty break).  Still…lots of teenage girls so that was a thought on my side too.

I am sure the property company management (PMP} lady dislikes me.  Or she likes to pretend she dislikes me for fun?  At this point, the owner might dislike me too and I hate that possibility.

PMP lady has told me the owner is frustrated with all of ‘my issues’.  I reminded PMP lady that with exception to one issue and this, everything I have turned in has been existent since before we moved in on March 24 of this year.  It takes me several times to get a response and then several weeks for them to provide the cheapest solution possible.  I’m sure the owner is paying them and I wonder if this is just how the system always works.

Enough of that!  Last night, the precious people from the restoration company were working hard well past 8 pm.  I came downstairs to get a drink and didn’t realize that it was wet at the bottom of the stairs.

I was made aware of the wetness as my bottom again made contact with the ground, magically, I bounced off the same areas this go round too!  The people working were super kind and tried to help me up.  I assured them I was fine and just needed a moment.

Truly not their fault, I just didn’t anticipate the wet floor.  I am moving around like a little ole lady this morning!  Lol but not really lol.

Here it is…no matter who is pleased with me or not (and lately it seems like a lot more not than this lady is comfortable with)…I’m okay.

God has my back and He is Good.  All of the time.  Even as I walk through literal s*h&t, he provides a tangible friend here for me and always His mighty love.  The question remains as always…will I accept it?

Still, my bum hurts.

A tribute to my brother

Thirty three years ago today, my brother Brent passed away.   He was killed in a motorcycle accident at the young age of 27.

I was in Tennessee with Mom, Dad and our dachsund Schatze when it happened.

Looking back….the trip was ‘off’ from the get go.  My Grandma had been very upset with me for choosing to go with my parents rather than stay with her.  Our little Schatze hurt her back on the way to Tennessee.  The air just felt unusually tense.  It was too hot.  Something in the motor home broke.  We came home from the Grand Ole Opry and there was a message to visit the office.  My Dad got the call.  The news was devastating.

Today is not for recounting all the ugly details. I’ve done that before and truly, there is no use going to that painful place today. The interesting thing is that I journaled about every moment during the trip.  Even without looking back, the memories are as vivid in my mind as if they had happened yesterday.

Today is for acknowledging my brother.  A beautiful, artistic soul who has been said to have been born ahead of his time.  A creative, warm spirit that I was just beginning to really get to know. A man who served his country and loved living overseas.

I miss him terribly.  I often wonder what he would be like today and wish I’d gotten to know him as an adult; and that my children could’ve known their cool uncle. I am incredibly thankful for his presence in my life for any amount of time.  Time.  Treasure it.

Suffice it to say, there is a space in many hearts that will always be only for Brent Eugene Suppes.  He is extraordinarily missed.

As his wife always says, “Forever Young”.  True story.

God bless you everyone.  Breathe in the moments, for the moments are all we have.

Fear Faith Freedom

Freedom.  (What’s it going to cost?)

Circulating thoughts. (Merry go round mind.)

A voice that counts. (That’s me talking).

Change is inevitable. (How?)

Learning new. (Listen.)

Unlearning old. (Critical necessity.)

It’s tough. (Super f’ing tough.)

It’s necessary. (Now.  Right now.)

Breaking out this preservation prison. (Damaging, self defeating preservation.)

The turtle inches out of it’s shell. (Intentional, purposeful.)

Seeking. (Earnestly.)

Searching. (Within.  Deeply.)

Wondering. (Endlessly.)

Praying. (Without ceasing.)

Grieving. (The plan.)

Scared. (Tremendously.)

Stepping forward in the dark. (Being a light.)

Still scared. (Horrifically.)

Faith and fear. (Coexist.)

Fear and faith. (Together.)

Creating a new story. (Mine.)

Somethings gotta give. (Surrender.)

Fear and faith and freedom. (Alive and well, the three f’s hug.)

Acceptance. (Peace.)

Life…you only get one. (Yes.)

Just thinking

Goodness gracious gosh.

It’s nothing new for ‘me to be open about my own life and thoughts to a point; it is different for me to engage in controversial topics that I’ve brought up.

The thing is…these things are no longer up for controversy in my mind. It is high time we have hard, honest and open discussions to better understand and love each other.

White privilege, white fragility, police brutality, broken systems…so much change to be implemented!

I never anticipate changing anyone’s mind through social media. It’s not my job to do that anyway. I greatly cherish when we can consider another perspective and perhaps open our world wider to see more than the life we live.

I have a billion questions running through my mind. I am deeply searching my own heart, my beliefs and my actions. I do not feel guilty being white skinned anymore than anyone else should feel bad for their own skin color. I do feel a call to action and away from apathy. No person should be treated differently based on race, socioeconomic status, gender, sexuality, etc.

I am one infallible human who very much wants to know better, do better and be better. I am prayerful that we are all looking inside ourselves right now and seeing how we can make improvements that translate to loving others well.

Let’s have open hearts, critical thinking and respect for one another. Ask yourself, “Is what I choose to share designed to further my personal political agenda, be disrespectful to others and carried out without thought to how my words are affecting others?”  Maybe reflect on these before sharing.  Then, by all means…share!

What’s with asking others to unfriend or unfollow on social media if  different beliefs are at play?  If a person’s words are too much, how about quietly doing what you need to do without announcing it to the world?

Value one another more than that…diversity is where it’s at!

Happy Thursday. xo

A learning curve

It feels very freeing to say that I do not have respect for President Trump’s character, evidenced by his behavior and actions. I am regretful that I have danced around those words for so long.

Am I still a law abiding, respectful, compassionate and loving citizen. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I am frustrated every single time I mention Trump, I am met with how I ‘don’t see the good’. I never said he has not done some beneficial things. His character representation makes me sick to my stomach and afraid for what our children are seeing as a demonstration of leadership. I guess it would be more than fair for me to ask why the Trump defenders can’t see the damage.

Do I believe God can even work all things for good in the current state of the world? I 100% believe that, though it is beyond my scope of understanding.

I would love to invite my world to think on these….

Can we be less about ‘you are right and I am wrong’?

What would happen if we moved away from the ‘yes,but’s’ and toward ‘let me truly hear and consider your experiences and heart”?

When disdain for someone’s actions is stated, would it be possible to consider the other lens for a moment before the original statement is personalized and personal attacks or defenses are made? The pause is a powerful thing.

Instead of ‘those Republicans’, ‘the Dems’, ‘the Liberals’ or a certain flavor of religion, sexuality, etc; could we see each other as human beings who all have the same basic needs? Humanity, safety, love and compassion.

Disliking someone’s actions and behaviors doesn’t make me less of a person. It means I have a brain for logic, a heart for feeling and a voice for using.

Instead of saying, ‘I don’t see color’, and softening my voice so I am not seen as a contrarian or fearful that I’m not knowledgeable enough to use my voice, I am working on a change.

I do see color because we ALL see color. What I do with that is the important thing. Let’s have tough conversations, we can do hard things.

Softening my voice for the sake of another’s comfort when it comes to matters that matter is a disservice to myself and to others. Change the world, one heart at a time, right? Starting with my own.

Silent because I don’t know enough? BS. I’m well educated, intelligent and yearning to learn and see so that I can do better.

I believe strongly that diversity is a beautiful gift. I also intensely believe that unity can be found among diversity; just as peace can be found among chaos.

Help me do better

I love learning. Expanding my worldview; considering perspectives different than my own and a willingness to be open to things I haven’t considered are all part of that process for me.

Sadly, and truthfully, it was not until recent years that I considered ‘white privilege’ a ‘thing’ to be thoughtful of. My view was one of self-chosen naivete. Combine that with my natural inclination to idealize (Alice in Wonderland thinking…it can’t really be that bad…humans can’t be that cruel…why can’t we all just get along), has likely unwittingly kept me in a state of denial.

I think the opening of my eyes began in my first job out of college, where I worked for a child abuse prevention and treatment agency. It was the first place I witnessed first hand that abuse was way too common among all cultures, socioeconomic statuses, races and levels of education.

Working in social services for 25 years; I have come to realize we all have so much more in common than we are different; and our differences should be celebrated and respected. I don’t care about status, color, culture, in that none of us are exempt from struggle.

Truly though, it was not until my recent adventure through grad school that my eyes were opened in a completely different way. I am blessed to say that I spent two years of my life bonding closely with a small group of precious men and women who just happened to have different skin colors.

Bonds were developed among us and safety was created. Together, we had HARD discussions about racism, white privilege, sexuality, culture, gender bias, etc. For the first time in my life, I truly heard the collective hearts of people I love, trust and treasure and my own worldview was broadened. My perspective before had been ignorant, unintentionally blase, harmful and apathetic. A paradigm shift began, and I am forever grateful.

I don’t want to be ignorant, blase, harmful and apathetic. I know better and I want to do better. I have kept quiet often when it comes to politics, racism and other hard topics, unless I’m in a one on one conversation. I haven’t felt ‘equipped’ to make a difference.

However, I am here. I still don’t feel equipped…for alot of things. That said, I firmly believe that Sarah can do all things through Christ who strengthens her. I desire to acknowledge the truth of what is, rather than intellectualize my way into unseeing.

My best learning has happened from hearing directly from the hearts that have experienced challenges with racism, white privilege, sexuality, culture, gender bias, etc. If you have a story to share here or by message, I’d be honored to hear it. Help me do and be better.

XO

Ouch

We had agreed to be honest with each other.  We had both been hurt by infidelity in our previous marriages and agreed to promote trust and safety with each other as best we could. We hadn’t been dating long; it was actually only our third date.  Our second ‘real’ time together.  The first date, I had come down with a stomach bug.  He was super sweet, bringing me flowers and sprite and hanging out for a visit.  I still am not sure if he brought those flowers to make sure I was being honest about being sick or out of genuine kindness.  Either way, I was impressed.

We seemed to click fairly well, yet we definitely were still in the stage of figuring out if we enjoyed each other.  I had noticed a rapid change in his behavior. Within a week, he had gone from “good morning beautiful”, “your mind is brilliant”, “you are amazing”; to a more formal style of communication minus the flirting.  I obviously noticed this, right?  It’s that gut check that says something is off.

Fast forward to the  third (and final) date.  We were in the middle of a rather intimate moment and involved in a deep conversation.  I had mentioned the change that I noticed.  He was quiet for a moment, I encouraged him to just share what was on his mind.

He hesitated for a brief moment before he said, “you are just bigger than the girls I date”.  His words jolted my heart.  In that moment, it was no longer he and I in the room.  Instead, it was rejection.  It was every single person who had ever said anything ugly about my body.  It was wound upon wound about the very thing I am most sensitive about.

I cried.  He apologized.  I was trying to decipher whether he meant he wasn’t physically attracted to me, or if he was being intentionally unkind or something else.  He assured me, he only wanted to be ‘honest’.  I don’t want to pick and choose honesty, it just seemed like such an intensely vulnerable moment to choose this brand of honesty.  To my own regret, I did not stop the evening there.  We continued down a path I wish we would’ve not traveled down.  The journey was less than remarkable.  Of course it was.

He left in the morning.  I spent two days looking at myself in the mirror; seeing not a beautiful woman but a little head with a huge, outrageously large body.  I didn’t eat much that weekend, because ‘bigger girls’ don’t deserve to eat. I punished myself with disdain and a refusal to acknowledge any of the progress I have made in the past few years.  I spoke of this only to a very small group of friends that know my heart more than I know it myself sometimes.  I was devastated, disgusted and ashamed of me.  I took myself to a place I haven’t traveled in an extraordinarily long time.  His apologies were texted through out the weekend.  I remained the nice girl and said I understood.  In the moment, I did understand because I myself, agreed with him.  I was more than I should be and less than enough.

The more I thought about it and received ‘medicine’ from the people who love me, the more I came to a different conclusion.  Today, nearly a week later, I am acknowledging that it’s okay to think he was incredibly shallow and wrong in that moment. I am going inside of myself and asking why I skimmed right over the pain when it happened and continued with a path I didn’t really want to go down. I am horribly sad that my size determined my value to him.  I am even more sad that I have spent any time of this precious life aching to be who he wished I was.

As I mentioned, we are each entitled and encouraged to have preferences and know what we are attracted to. What I cannot fathom is why someone would in essence, attack someone in a most vulnerable situation.  What is the ‘reward’ of that kind of honesty?

He withdrew, going from several conversations  a day to perhaps a goodnight or “how are you?” text.  I had no idea what was going on in his head.  Was he feeling so bad he didn’t know how to recover this?  Was he trying to ghost me?  I don’t know.  I finally just told him that his behavior was extremely confusing to me.  I received a quick response, “I am sorry, we are still friends, right?”

I explained that I was happy to explore a friendship but didn’t need a pen pal.  I sent him a video with my very real perspective.  He’s missing out.  His opinion does not determine my value…though it took me a while to get there and I’m still working on it.  I am the unique kind of beautiful that I love.  My heart is pure, my mind is inquisitive, my spirit is genuine and real, I am compassionate, funny, smart and though I am not Ms. Universe, I am the kind of beautiful only I can be.  He doesn’t see and that’s okay…he is not for me.  My last text to him was to let him know that I had his really cool wine tumblers if he wanted them back.

Truly, I don’t think this is a bad guy. I think he has parts of him that are super cool. He is intelligent, attractive on the outside and a great conversationalist. I do believe he is sorry for hurting me. I am sorry he hurt me too, yet I’m thankful that I was forced through this ugliness to face some feelings I’ve been burying for too long.

Since my ex- husband left our home, it was my prayer and my desire to learn to love and accept myself.  Fully.  Always.  I will continue to strive to be the best version of me, and I am lovely right where I am…not just when I arrive.

The pursuit of health and healthy living is of the upmost importance. I have worked my ass off the past two years to get to a healthy place…inside and out. I’m still a work in progress and hope to God I always will be.

I wonder about our world. I wonder what it would be like if the pursuit of kindness, character development, compassion, humor and gentleness were more important than the pursuit of a hot body. Maybe they are; I just haven’t found that person in my dating life.

If someone had to choose to love my mind and heart or my appearance, I would choose my heart and mind; no contest.  I know that while I have my physical preferences, heart, mind, compassion and character are my ultimate deciders.  I hope and pray that there is someone who loves ALL of me, not in spite of my uniqueness, but because of it.

Also…I am keeping the wine tumblers.

 

 

 

I’m Here.

So much time to think and think and think some more….
 
Today’s insight….
 
I graduated in December, 2020, with my Masters in Counseling Psychology. Until July, 2019, we had a couple of years to take the test required for LPC licensure.
 
In July, 2019, the regulations changed. That test had to be taken BEFORE a Masters person could go become a supervised candidate for LPC licensure. Bummer. Oh well.
 
My plan was to take the test at the end of February. Instead, we sold our home on February 14. (A significant date of beginnings and endings in my life, it seems).
 
I remained flexible, reminded myself that I was in competition with no one regarding when I took my test, and refocused on my own race. I decided that I would get moved asap and take the test in April.
 
Then…we all know what happened in March and April. Covid-19 became a part of our daily vocabulary and changed everything. I struggled with all of what everyone else struggled with. For a minute, I got a bit frustrated and frozen about the timing of all of this. Don’t judge…sometimes my inner 4 year old speaks louder than grown up me.
 
I still can’t take my test. It’s not being offered at this time and I don’t really know when it will be. I need to study more anyway because I’m way off track there. Still, I’ve been reminded that all things don’t occur according to my plan. Thank God for that.
 
Circling back to this moment. I am still working as a Case Manager for seniors in our community. I have continually said that it will be horribly hard for me to leave my true work family and clients. However, according to my own plans, this would’ve occurred already as I hopefully would’ve passed my test and moved on (to an LPC candidacy position).
 
In my version, I would’ve begun a new job and who knows with all of this hullabaloo if I’d even still have it. Instead, I am right where I belong. I am absolutely honored to be there for my clients, some of who I’ve worked with for 3 years. They are afraid and not always trusting. It is a gift to have a pre-existing relationship with them and be able to assist and serve them, even if it looks different. I have the safety, comfort and familiarity of my team at work, whom I love and adore. I am deeply grateful for all of this.
 
Since 2011, I have hung on to God’s promise in Joel 2:25. I don’t know much; yet I know this verse has felt so real to me. HE WILL RESTORE THE YEARS THE LOCUSTS HAVE EATEN. I don’t know all of His promises. I’m unsure how to interpret what I do know. Still, whatever He has promised me feels like it should be covered under this verse. God knows what the locusts have eaten away at in my spirit, and He knows what it means to bring restoration. Restoration according to His plan, not mine. There is tremendous comforting personal truth in these words for me.
 
I wish I could say that these words ended my doubts, resolved my trust issues and increased my belief 200%. I can say that I am so thankful to see God in this moment. I am glad I see His work in hindsight and that I am aware enough to realize that I’d like to trust Him with my future just as deeply.
 
I ask God questions such as; “Why did you have me go to school later in life if everyone is just going to get Covid anyways?” I go crazy with my what if’s and the tone in my head is a little edgy. And a little more edgy until internally, I’m a little over the edge, lol! (But not really lol)
 
I’m here. Praying, wondering, believing, doubting, feeling all the feels and shutting every feeling off.
 
Where are you?

My heart’s response…what’s yours?

My version in response to this…

“I am praying for you.”

Translation: You matter and I am concerned. Practicing the art of surrender and trust is so hard for me whether it’s to, “trust the process”, “trust the universe”, “trust the pole”, or anything else. This includes surrendering you and your outcome. I personally choose to pray to God because my past experiences, my faith, and my heart make me believe this is the most loving and viable option.

“If you don’t get COVID-19, we will claim God shielded.”

Translation: I won’t. I will struggle with why some people did and some people didn’t. I might wonder why a person ignores every request to social distance. I might wonder why they still got it even if they seemed to do everything right. I likely will never understand. Whether I believe in God or not, I will resolve that no human ever has all the answers….so we create our own. This gives us an illusion of control where we truly have none. But humanly, we believe an answer will make us feel better. In the meantime, I will continue to wrestle w God and human reasoning, just as I always do. The answers will be my own, for this is my journey.

“If you do get it and recover, we’ll claim God healed.”

Translation: if you get it and recover, I will be eternally grateful. I will again struggle with why some people got it and recovered while some didn’t. I will choose to believe that, “Jesus wept“ while we wept. I will remember that life and breath are precious and none of us know when our first or last days will be… This matters if a big semi hits us, if we take our own lives, if there is cancer or heart disease, if there is just no reason…Not one human makes it out alive. We can choose gratitude or we can choose constant struggle. Personally, I usually choose a little of both. I don’t know how to do different than that, I myself am human.

“If you die, we’ll explain that God had a reason..”

Translation: this is the biggest copout religious people ever use. I don’t believe God controls us like checker pieces, but I used to. I believed that we were like goldfish swimming around in his tank. Now I believe the saying that I’ve heard so many times. “We are not humans having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings, having a human experience.” This life is not permanent, no matter your belief system.

It is possible that the same results are possible by praying to a telephone pole. Again, my life has led me to this place and I believe the deep joy I experience in the midst of shit is the result.

I recently read that we don’t pray to change God, we pray to change ourselves.

If the same happens by praying to a telephone pole, you change….then good for you or whomever.

I’ve tried endless options as far as beliefs and religion go.

I don’t like religion and I don’t like rules around it. I do like relationship and relationship with God has gotten me through so very much in my life.

Some people can call that a crutch and others say “God is good”.

I believe the latter and I believe that I serve a God who loves us more than I could ever imagine.

None of that changes the fact that I am human and I am infallible. Whether I’m a believer or not, I never get all the answers.

I wonder if life is less about the outcome and more about the journey.

That said, I respect the journey..your’s, mine, and everyone else’s.  I’m only walking in my shoes.

 

This kinda sucks…we can do it but it sucks

What breaks my heart about right this moment is the separation we are needing to experience to hopefully make things better.

I miss my Momma. So much. I miss hugging her more than anything. I miss my son and baby daddy as well. I miss all of the people and all of the hugs.

I am so thankful to get to see them on facetime and otherwise.

Now…one of my precious friends from my days at Autumn Leaves is getting weaker every day. She is one amazing lady. Time with her family is certainly limited and that hurts me for everyone. Facetime isn’t going to help her as much as it does me. Yuck.

Then, for the babies just born (my baby Henry) and for the ones getting ready to be born…it hurts not to be a part of their days and worlds. Just not fun. For the Momma’s and Daddies either.

Losing precious real time with the ones I love sucks. It may be refocusing me back to what matters and put my attention on deeper things and on God for sure, but it sucks.

Lastly, I’m making calls to check on my clients. I just got off the phone with a lovely, endearing 87 year old woman. She could barely hear me, her closed captioning wasn’t working. She could read my name and number though and is going to try to call me later. She was very confused (dementia ugh) and thought I was her son. She wanted me to ‘come up for coffee’. She told me she loved me and couldn’t wait to see me. I told her I loved her to, and couldn’t wait to see her either. I can’t. I will but I hate it.

Trying to be grateful, grateful, grateful and see all of the blessings and growth in this season…and I do. I’m human though, and I hate unknowns and all of this scary stuff.

Stick together as best you can, love well, STAY HOME!  We can do this.

Loving you all and hoping you feel as loved as I do, even in this muck.