For someone who gave her daughter the middle name Joy, it's sad that I have spent so much of my life afraid of joy. 

For a while, feeling joy was quickly followed by the fear of something bad happening, the other shoe dropping suddenly. Joy was a superstition. Feeling joy, to me, was like wishing for 7 years bad luck.

Then, after our son passed away just before his 2nd birthday, joy became this gift that was for someone else. Joy was not for me. I became fearful when I saw someone else experience joy. I wanted to shout, "Don't you know it can all be taken from you in a second?"

As time passed, joy started to creep in. It started in small ways, spending time with family, watching my daughter hit milestones, teaching her to read, building new friendships, and deepening my relationship with my husband. All these things snowballed into...Joy! But all I felt was overwhelming guilt.

I felt guilty to be experiencing joy when my son was dead. All the joy in the world couldn't bring him back. How dare I be happy when my family was broken. I felt like I didn't deserve joy.

Friends, this was a terrible way to live my life. I found myself faking happiness for those around when inside I was suffering. My insides were decaying. I was bitter and angry.

The thing about life though, is that nothing ever stays the same including those hurts and difficult emotions. I was gentle with myself and allowed myself to process those emotions as they came. It took me a long time to cycle through and begin anew. Maybe too long some would same. But every story is different.

I'm now on a new chapter. Opening my heart to God and letting Him in has brought such a stirring inside me. I can feel the changes within me blooming outward. When I'm sad; I cry. When I'm happy; I laugh and smile. I'm hungry for more. More life. More learning. I yearn to draw closer to God. Hungry for His word.

I want Joy. I still have so much life to live. This is not all that I am. God created me for a purpose. Although I don't know, yet, what that purpose is I know that I have one. I may feel broken, but I know that He can mend me and use me.

Some wandered in desert wastes, finding no way to a city to dwell in;hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted within them.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. 
He led them by a straight way till they reached a city to dwell in.
Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of man!
For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.
Psalms 107: 4-9

I don't know what's going on with me. I am not unhappy. I'm not upset about anything. But I do feel so very tired.

It may, honestly, be that this past week has been more wintery. Although it has not been particularly cold, the sky has been a bit more overcast. I have a history of Seasonal Affective Disorder, but typically it hits more severe than just feeling uninterested.

I'm still doing things. I'm staying busy. I'm just not as interested in my favorite things right now. I cannot remember the last book that I read and enjoyed. For me, this is a big deal. In fact, I've only finished one book so far this year. Some of you may know that I have been known to finish a book in a day's time. I love to read. I thought that maybe it was just the books I was choosing. But nothing is sticking. I just don't care what happens on the next page.

This all may seem very silly. I'm not depressed. I'm not sad. I'm just feeling a little off. I'd like to take a week long nap and wake up renewed once again. I guess I'm just at a point where I don't know whether to keep pushing through it and keep doing the things I normally love, or if I should listen to my body and just take a break from everything until I feel more alive.

I think for tonight, at 8:30, I'm going to listen to my body and go to bed early. Tomorrow is a new day.

Despite that it is now November and the title of this post contains the word "Shopping", I promise that this post is not about holiday shopping.

Today, after school, we stopped at the grocery store on the way home to pick up a few things. It is tradition to let Meghan pick out the shopping cart that we will use. She is a big fan of the rocket ship cart and they always have several ready for her use. But today she decided to go for a different selection. The cart with the bench for two attached. Now, I don't know if you are familiar with these carts, but they are clearly meant for families with two kids. Unlike the race car and rocket ship, the bench cart has a full size cart attached. This cart is meant for serious shopping...and for two kids.

I am that person who won't sit in the wheelchair section of the movie theater, no matter how crowded, because what if the next family to come in needs that space? They shouldn't have to ask me to move.

I am that person who won't park in the handicap space with my mother. I'd rather drop her off at the door and park on the far side of the lot than park there. All because I can still walk and what if the next car to pull into that lot needs that same space?

So here I am in the grocery store with my daughter asking to use the cart for two kids. I'm picturing a mom who is tired, overwhelmed, and has just had a bad day. She doesn't want to stop at the store, but she has to...with both kids (or more) in tow. All she needs to do is grab one of those carts, buckle her kids in and get the job done. But there isn't a cart for two kids, so she's fighting her way through the store with a baby on her hip and a toddler running the store to grab his favorite treats or anything that catches his attention. I don't want her to have that extra stress because I, with my one child in tow, decided to take the cart for two when I only needed a cart for one.

ONE.

Not two kids. Just one.

And my daughter wants to know why we can't use the cart for two. As I begin to explain to her that these carts are made for families with two kids, my heart seizes.

We are not a family with two kids.

We used to be a family with two kids. But now there is just one.

My heart holds two children, but my cart can only hold one.

I've been struggling with my internal monologue lately. There are days that I cannot see past what's right in front of me. Being so focused on the here and now, it's difficult to see the point; my purpose.

I repeat over and over to myself, is this all that I am? Is this all I will ever be? Is this my life story? How will I be remembered when I am gone? More importantly, will I be remembered at all?

I don't have the answers. I don't know how long I have on this earth to make a difference. Maybe I'll live to be 80 or maybe these moments are my last. It is not for me to know. What I do know, is no matter how many moments I have left, they will matter. My story does not conclude with "And so she coped the best she could with her past until the end of her days." This story is not about me at all. This is not my story.

If I can make you smile, just once...
If I can hold your hand and help you through a difficult time, just once...
If I can make you feel important, just once...
If I can ease your burden, just once...
If I can make your day a little easier, just once...

It's all worth it.

I wanted to share my internal ah ha moment from this morning. 

A friend asked me for advice a few days ago. This morning, I checked up on her and discovered that she had brushed my advice aside. What? Why would she do that? Did she not see that my advice was the only sane solution to her problem? My advice would save her so much time and frustration, yet she just cast it aside. 

Have you been there? Have you felt frustration when you warned or gave advice and no one was listening? You come so close to coming unglued because your words are not being heard. 

Then it happened. I realized, fully, that I was doing the same thing. How often had I gone to God in prayer over a problem that to me was huge but to him was so small? God would lay the answer out in front of me, I smile and nod "Yes, God you are so right!" But moments later I'd stubbornly return to my own idle thoughts, turning away from the path that he JUST put before me. How hurtful that must be for Him. 

When I gave my friend that advice, I did so with love and I wanted only the very best for her. Isn't that where God is coming from? He sees my path clearly and wants the very best for me. He loves me and wants me to choose the path that will lead me to where I need to be. But time after time I stand up and say "That's good advice God, but I'm going to go my own way. Maybe you know that this path will take me where I need to go, but my path looks easier and more convenient to me at this time. See you later God, I'm heading out on my journey now." 

Psalms 16:11 says "You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand." 

Whose path are you on? Yours or His?

P.S Next time I'm just going to love on my friend and skip the directions! Who am I to give advice?

Thank God it's Friday. I don't think I've ever meant those words as much as I do right now.

Thank God it's Friday and our restful days are coming soon.

Thank you God for getting me through this week without tears.

Thank you God for blessing my body and mind with the strength I needed to get through this week.

Thank you God for showing me joy and happiness in the little things.

Thank God it's Friday!

As most of you are well aware, Wednesday was Meghan's very first day of school. I was worried for a number of reasons. Would she like school? How would I handle being alone for that time during the day, especially being August? Would the extra gas be too much of a financial strain? Could I handle the extra physical activity? Would I be able to keep up with the house?

Tuesday night, I gave it up. I stopped worrying and gave it to God. What was meant to happen would happen no matter how much or how little I worried about it. I made my schedule out to stay on top of the household chores and to stay busy while she was in school, then I let the rest go. I found peace in Meghan's excitement and found myself becoming excited too.

Wednesday came and no tears were shed. Meghan loved school!