tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58627488155281706162024-03-19T00:17:14.923-04:00Committing to LifeMy journey through life - a mixture of faith, love, family, and just a pinch of crazinessVictoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-30001835282003325792019-09-01T12:51:00.000-04:002019-09-01T12:51:36.954-04:00Faith of a Child Meets Adult Sunday ServiceThis morning, Sunday school classes were cancelled at our church. There was still worship service and the nursery was still open for those under two but if we wanted to attend services today, we went in knowing that Abby would be with us. Last time she was in with us, we struggled. She was about a year and a half old and couldn't sit still or be quiet when it was necessary. We ended up spending so much of our time entertaining her, walking around outside of the sanctuary, exploring the building. Either Wes or I was distracted 100% of the service. It was not the chance to recharge, reconnect, or worship that we needed. It was not an opportunity for us to grow in our faith.<br />
But my anxiety made me hesitate to put her in the nursery. Could someone else really take care of her how I could? Could they really be trusted to get me if she cried, to keep her allergens away from her, to foster her growth? We'd just had a very poor experience at a MOPS group at another church which had left Abby crying so hard she couldn't be calmed down for several minutes. They had clearly let her get far too worked up before paging me. Which left me even more hesitant than before to leave her with someone else. We took the step of faith though and G-d rewarded us richly. Abby loves her class and has grown so much, more than I ever could have taught her on my own. Wes and I have been given the chance to connect as a couple during worship and to grow in our faith.<br />
Since then, we've added another member to our family and far earlier than with Abby, we've also entrusted him to the nursery staff. After proving that I could handle passing off my baby, and the staff could be trusted to keep them alive and away from the things they couldn't handle eating, we decided to see how our independent baby handled being away from Mama. Which again, left us on our own in the service.<br />
We've both enjoyed getting to grow in that way and to spend an hour to ourselves, kid free, each week. Life hasn't allowed us date nights at this season so this small chance has been a nice break from parenthood. And it gives us something to talk about that isn't work or children.<br />
Going into today's service, I think Wes and I were both a little unsure of what would happen. But we came prepared with coloring implements, blocks, a number puzzle, snacks... And we hoped for the best.<br />
It. Was. Incredible. Not only did Abby listen quite well, quiet down when she asked questions too loudly, and do her best to pay attention to what was going on, Wes and I delighted in having her with us. She was curious, she was faith-filled, she was present. While we did take some time during the sermon to give her the tour of the church she requested, it did my mama heart some serious good to see her growing in her faith like that. To pray with my daughter, to get a foretaste of what her future might hold.<br />
Finally, it was the first Sunday of the month, which at our church means communion. Communion is open to all who profess Christ as their Saviour, who have asked Him into their hearts. And although she's only three and a half, Abby has done that. She has Jesus in her heart and has the most precious child-like faith. When I realized this morning that it was communion Sunday, I quickly had to decide whether we'd allow her to participate. Who am I to hold her back? If asked whether she has Jesus in her heart, she will tell you emphatically YES. She will tell you that she's going to Heaven after she dies to be with Jesus and that He died to save her from her sins. Is her faith fully mature? No, of course not. But she has the basis, she has a foundation. Her life is being built upon the Rock of His Salvation and I will not be the one to tell her she can't partake of His body and His blood because she's not old enough.<br />
And let me tell you, more than praying with my daughter, more than sitting beside her and worshipping with her, taking communion with her, watching her eat the bread and drink the grape juice, knowing that her salvation is assured, that someday we'll be together in Heaven... Oh I can't explain to you the way that filled my heart.<br />
While we don't intend to keep Abby out of her Sunday school class every week, we do intend to bring her in more often. Our job as parents is to train our children up and to lead them to Christ. Seeing them start to come to that faith, to mature was sweet balm to my heart in all the chaos that motherhood and life can sometimes bring.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-10000895935176174482017-01-14T17:47:00.001-05:002017-01-14T17:47:04.761-05:00White Chicken Chili<p dir="ltr">Years ago now, in college, a bunch of friends got together one night and enjoyed some delicious white chicken chili. Up until that point, all I'd ever known for chili was my dad's. His version involves kidney beans, beef, and tomato. This was nothing like that. We all asked for the recipe. I cannot tell you how many times I've gone back to that email to reference it since that fall. Now, sick of searching my inbox, I share that recipe with you. (Ladies, if you're reading this, it might look just a little different. I've tweaked the seasonings just a hair and added in the changes we made that night. Extra beans, added corn, etc.)</p>
<p dir="ltr">Ingredients:<br>
2 T oil<br>
1 pound diced, cooked chicken<br>
1 onion, chopped<br>
2 cloves garlic, minced<br>
29 ounces chicken broth<br>
1 can diced tomatoes and green chiles<br>
1/4 t ground cumin<br>
2 cans white beans<br>
1 can corn or 1 cup frozen<br>
salt and pepper to taste<br>
lime, avocado, sour cream, tortilla chips, and cilantro for serving</p>
<p dir="ltr">1. Heat oil. Cook onion and garlic until soft.<br>
2. Stir in broth, tomatoes, chiles, and cumin. Bring to a boil. Simmer 10 minutes.<br>
3. Add chicken, corn, and beans. Simmer 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.<br>
4. Serve.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I'm planning on trying this in my new instant pot this week so I'll update with pictures and how to use that device successfully soon.</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-23962658381256642952016-12-16T17:20:00.001-05:002016-12-16T17:20:51.522-05:00Socialization and Anxiety<p dir="ltr">To those who know me well, I don't think it will come as much surprise that I'm an introvert. I can quite happily curl up on the couch with Netflix or a book and be content for hours. When I worked as a barista, my job alone was enough to fulfill most of my social needs. (The fact that my coworkers at the time were awesome didn't hurt though.) Now that I'm a nanny, I have to find social interaction. Even introverts need some. Most weeks for me that means lunch at my in-laws on Sundays, Monday night dinners (affectionately known as Dragonland), story time at the library on Wednesdays where I talk the librarians' ears off, and the absolute highlight of my week is my mommy group Thursday mornings.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But lately, our Monday night host has been travelling out of town, I've had to drive my husband to work which interferes with story time, and the location for mommy group closed down. So I haven't been getting my social life fix. Finally, yesterday, with the return of our second vehicle to working order and a rescheduled mommy group hosted at someone's house, I was able to get some socialization. And I needed it. To be able to hang out with my friends, let the kids play, and, as a bonus, my daughter and I were able to eat everything but the cheese cubes without worry. (She has food allergies which impact my diet too.)</p>
<p dir="ltr">While I love my time with my friends, and I desperately need the adult interaction, the minute I leave, my anxiety roars its ugly head and makes me question, makes me doubt. I walk out the door and I begin to analyze every thing I did or said. Did they know I meant this? Did I come across like that? Did I talk too much? Am I too self-centered? Am I too needy? Did I ask enough questions about the other person? If I had my phone out, did I spend too much time on it?</p>
<p dir="ltr">My first anxiety attack, that I can recall, I was 8 years old. That means I've been dealing with this monster for 18 years. If my mental illness was a person, he could vote and sign a contract and get a tattoo. I have what's considered high functioning anxiety. It doesn't stop me from doing many things (except for the semester in college where it sabotaged my efforts to meet my chapel requirement). But every interaction I have gets replayed in my head over and over several times. It gets questioned and disected and analyzed until even I am sick of it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">If it was as simple as not thinking that, trust me, I'd stop in an instant. But that's just not the reality. My brain goes into overdrive and I cannot turn it off. I can't stop these thoughts like I can stop the faucet on my kitchen sink. And at the end of the day, they can get overwhelming. They can get to the point where I just want to scream or rip my hair out or revert back to how I coped in high school and hurt myself. Because if I'm in pain, I'm not focusing on the interactions I had all day. I'm focusing on causing the pain, dealing with the pain, and then after I'd be focused on the guilt of making that choice. (The guilt would then consume my brain, I wouldn't be able to turn those thoughts off, and it would end up an awful cycle. This is why I haven't done that in about ten years.)</p>
<p dir="ltr">I wish I could just change on a dime. I wish it was that simple. But I've done this my entire life. Until recently, I thought everyone did. I didn't know this was a symptom of my anxiety. I thought it was just exaggerated for me. Which makes me wonder how much of my standard behaviors, thoughts, things I say are part of my mental illnesses. They impact every aspect of my life. Even when they're under control. I'll never be able to get twenty years of my life back from this monster. I'll never be able to go back to Germany and attend those drink nights that I skipped because I wasn't sure exactly where it was or those times I bowed out from events in college because I didn't know who would be there. I'll never have that back. Maybe someday I'll have an afternoon with friends where I don't leave and second guess every single thing I said and every single thing I did. In the mean time, I won't let it stop me from going to my mommy group, from messaging my friends about German or haircuts or babywearing. I won't let this illness hold me back the times I'm able to overcome it. And when I'm not able to overcome it, I will seek help. Because as my husband said, that's an awful way to live.</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-62526237246467436172016-11-08T11:15:00.001-05:002016-11-08T11:15:36.721-05:00Voting in the Kingdom<p dir="ltr">Today is Election Day in America and I have never been more scared for the results.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I have my opinions on who is or is not qualified for the position of president but that is not what this post is about. This post is about how I'm coming to peace with the possible results of the election. While you may gather what my vote is from this or from other conversations with me, please do not make this about that. Any comments campaigning for or against any candidate will be deleted.</p>
<p dir="ltr">No matter what my vote, or yours, that's not the important part. Don't get me wrong, I believe voting is important and I believe we should be informed voters. I've come to peace with my decision. I've picked the candidate that most closely aligns with what is most important to me and I will be casting my ballot after my daughter wakes up from her nap. But I was still struggling this morning when I woke up with worry over the results. Would the rest of America make the choice that I believed was best? Or would they do something I thought would be detrimental to our country and to the world in general? Like it or not, America has a huge role to play in the way the world functions. But you know what?</p>
<p dir="ltr">It's not up to me.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This election is in bigger hands. If G-d controls my life, why wouldn't He have a say in who runs this country? No matter who ends up President, be it Trump, Clinton, or Johnson, my King is in control. My prayer these days is "Thy will be done, above all else. But selfishly I pray You'd keep my family safe, my daughter safe, and give me peace." No matter if tomorrow we know our next president will be the first female president or whether we will have another Mr. President, if you were my friend yesterday, you'll be my friend tomorrow. If you were family yesterday, you'll be family tomorrow.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So go, educate yourself, and vote. But please, pray about it too. Let Him guide your ballot.</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-54560060081078325962016-10-19T17:49:00.000-04:002016-10-19T17:49:03.103-04:00Loving Me Instead of Liking Me<div dir="ltr">
There's a difference between being okay with who you are and loving yourself.</div>
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A friend challenged the ladies in her group to name something they love about themselves and then comment on something they love about the others who had commented. I was one of the first to see the post but at least half a dozen women commented before me. Not because they were so quick to respond but because I had to think.</div>
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And think.</div>
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And think.</div>
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It took me about two hours to come up with something I loved about myself. Two hours. I thought about the fact that I didn't go through a crisis of self-confidence after giving birth. I didn't struggle with my self-image. I accepted my squishy belly and my tiger stripes almost immediately. But I'm realizing it wasn't a struggle because I didn't love my body before I got pregnant either. I was okay with it. I accepted it as a matter of course. It was like an old car. It got me where I needed to, didn't cause too many problems, but I didn't put too much effort into it either. It just was. I didn't like it but I didn't dislike it either. But that wasn't something to love about me.</div>
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I thought about the breakdown I had the other night about how I felt about my attitude, my personality. I thought about all the mean things my anxiety and my depression tell me are true. That I'm mean and selfish. That other people don't really like me, they just put up with me. That I'm no fun and I'm awkward. That I talk too much. I thought about all the things I don't like about me. Clearly, those weren't answers either.</div>
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I tried to think of one thing about me that I loved. I love being a mom but that's not really about me. It's about a blessing I was given. It's about my daughter. It's a fact of my being. But I thought about the things I love about being a mom. Wearing my daughter in our wrap, holding her close, nursing her, spending time engaging with her, snuggling her, sleeping with her in my arms. So many of those things required me to do research, to know what I was doing before I tried. I needed to know how to wrap before I could try it with her. I had to know it even existed as an option! </div>
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I had to know so much more about breastfeeding than I thought possible. Knowing what hunger cues were and the reasons why babies need to eat on demand and not on a schedule. Why she might actually be hungry even though she just popped off an hour ago. That breastmilk is so easily digested. What things meant I might have a low supply and what things didn't. Why topping her off with formula would have done more harm than good in most cases. Things I see women question daily because we've lost that cultural knowledge. Once upon a time, our mothers passed us that information. But in families like mine, the last nursing mother is three generations back and she passed away before I got to this stage. It's not something we grow up with anymore. It's not something we're familiar with or that we're used to. We have to learn it. I've been successful because I read voraciously while I was pregnant. </div>
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There are many other things I had to learn to be confident in the choices I've made as a mom. And I don't think I'm by any means done learning. But rather than being a daunting prospect, I look forward to the journey. I love to learn and to research and I love my thirst for knowledge. That, ultimately, was what I shared with the other women in the group. But it took me two hours to come to that conclusion.</div>
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Until today, I thought I was doing pretty good in terms of self confidence, self esteem. Because I didn't have a litany of self-hatred pour out when I looked in the mirror and because I like my body, I'm proud of the stretch marks that cover my stomach, that show I grew an entire human being, I thought I was doing well. But liking yourself is not loving yourself and I realize that now. I realize I'm not where I need to be. So today I'm starting a journey to love myself. To forgive my imperfections and to move from liking me to loving me. To treat me the way I want my daughter to treat herself. I'm not sure how I'm going to get there but I know I have to try. Care to join me?</div>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-2352713287573084552016-10-15T15:03:00.001-04:002016-10-15T15:03:55.777-04:00The End of My Rope<p dir="ltr">I am at the end of me. For 7 months or more, I've tried to run on my own energy, my own steam, my own will. I've tried to do it all without interference, without help, without Him. I've paused in the amazement of my blessings, the wonder of watching my daughter grow and learn and I've whispered a quick thank you but I haven't stopped to listen to Him. I haven't stopped to really soak in Him, bask in His presence, connect with the One who made everything around me. And for the most part, I haven't been writing. Not here, not in my journals, not anywhere but texts. I've overcommitted and I've taken on too much mentally while simultaneously managing to not do much at all. My list of things to accomplish is a mile long and never ending.<br>
When the house is a disaster, it's my fault. But simultaneously, it's not at all because my husband said he'd do the dishes a week ago and still hasn't. But in that week, neither have I. So while I sit here, not doing anything about the mess that surrounds me, blaming someone else, I also beat myself up about the fact that I can't even keep my house clean. Yes, the workings of my mind are a dark and twisty place sometimes. I spend too much time on my phone playing games and involved in facebook crap and not enough time connecting with my Creator and I wonder why I struggle. With winter coming, this is an even more serious issue for me. <br>
In case you didn't already know, I struggle with depression, especially seasonal depression. I was incredibly lucky to escape postpartum depression immediately after my daughter's birth. I was at high risk and technically I'm not out of the woods yet. PPD and PPA can strike at any time in the first year postpartum. Mental illness is a very real thing and it's something I've struggled with for 18 years. Yes, you read that right. I'm still in my twenties and I've been in this battle most of my life. I hadn't even hit puberty yet when I began fighting. I've never known what it was like to not worry about what others thought of me or to not take the weight of the world on my shoulders.<br>
Last night, I hit my breaking point. We'd had a good day. My husband had the day off and we took the kids I watch to a corn maze and to get pumpkins. Except for some potty training issues and a missing cup, the day went off without a hitch. But on the way home, talking about the little girl I watch, my husband mentioned how much like me she can be. How we're both stubborn. And in his words, "she's preparing [me] for someone who's going to be [my] little clone". Those words just hit me like a brick. I love my daughter beyond measure but in that moment I felt awful. I don't want her to be like me. I'm selfish and I'm stubborn. I can be mean and I struggle with anger and frustration. I'm impatient and at times I don't just walk away from G-d but I run. He is not the center of my life as He should be. I want her to be better than me. And last night, I couldn't see any of the good things in me. I couldn't see any of the reasons why I should be proud that she might take after me.<br>
What an awful point to come to. After such a good day, a day where the kids made good choices and we had so much fun, where we began a fall tradition and picked out a first pumpkin for a little one, to end up in tears practically begging my husband to tell me what he loved about me because I couldn't see it... Well I haven't been that low in a long time. Is it postpartum, sleep deprivation? Or the changing of the seasons? Or is it all because I broke the rope that had previously felt like it was keeping me from running too far from G-d and drifted off to sea? I don't know. But I know I need to fix this. No, I need to open myself and allow Him to fix me. I need to change and I cannot do that on my own. I've tried for too long.<br>
So I'm not going to say that I'll be blogging regularly or on any sort of a schedule. I'm not going to make any more demands on myself or promise anything to anyone else. My word for the year was temple. I am a temple of the Holy Spirit and I need to take care of that temple. That means putting me on the list. And maybe crossing a few things off. My mental health is important. My spiritual growth is important. So I'm not going to oblige myself any more than I already am. But I am going to take care of me. Part of that will be writing more. But I don't know where I'll be doing that. If it's here, I hope you'll read and chime in. If it's in my journals, I know that my Audience will be attentive to every jot and tittle. And if it's working on my book, well, someday you'll have the chance to read it. But while that's still on my agenda, I refuse to make it a chore. It's so much more than that and it's far too important to ever let myself dread. Every word of it needs to be written with purpose and with love. So if it takes me another decade or two to write, so be it. It will be done when He wants it done. And after He helps me determine what I'm supposed to write about!<br>
I hope when you read this you understand. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm not looking for pity. I'm not looking for you to tell me what to do to fix this. These are my mental blocks and I'm slowly developing a plan to knock them out of my way, to jump over them. I hope if you have similar mental blocks, or even just stubborn ones of your own, maybe this will inspire you to create your own plan. Maybe it will just make you aware that you are not alone. And maybe some day we'll both look back on this and know that we reached the end of us and found something so much greater.</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-47394855760677565242016-06-14T10:34:00.001-04:002016-06-14T10:34:40.145-04:00FLYing again<p dir="ltr">My darling daughter, who currently is sleeping on my chest, will be three months old this week. My life for the last thirteen weeks has revolved completely around her. And while that's exactly how it should be, it means my house, which is normally lived in, if you will, has become downright messy. Add in two guinea pigs (who need far more attention than they're currently receiving) and nannying four days a week plus an upcoming move into a new apartment and things need to get under control. Since this precious babe has started to like her swing and will be entertained in it for anywhere between five minutes and a solid hour, that means Mama (and Daddy too) can tame the housework mess. If we get into the habit now, our new place will never look half as bad as what this one does.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But the question is how to start. Since I've never been the best housekeeper, I turned back to FLYlady. For those of you who are unfamiliar, FLYlady is a system in which you break your house into zones and work on each one a week every month. The main tenents of the system are routines (stored in your handy control journal, which is basically a manual for running your house that you design) and the idea that you can do anything for 15 minutes. Well, some days I may not have 15 minutes in which the baby is content but that's the beauty of the system. I can set my timer for two minutes and get to work. Or if she fusses before my timer dings, I simply pause it, tend to her, and go back to it. Housework done "incorrectly" still blesses my family. And I think we all feel better when our homes are taken care of. So to get started, I've created routines. I'd like to make them look pretty before I put them into my control journal but I'm not letting my perfectionism stop me from getting started. The pretty part will come later. Without further adieu, my routines.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Morning:<br>
Get dressed.<br>
Make the bed.<br>
Take care of the baby. (Diaper, clothes, nurse.)<br>
Eat breakfast (or at least take it with me!).</p>
<p dir="ltr">Afternoon: (This will get done during naptimes most days.)<br>
Write down what I need to pack for tomorrow. (Am I low on diapers? Do I need more wipes?)<br>
Spend time with Jesus.<br>
Move your butt! (Walk, exercise, whatever.)</p>
<p dir="ltr">Evening:<br>
Eat dinner.<br>
Dishes.<br>
Tidy up.<br>
Prep for tomorrow.<br>
     Diaper bag<br>
     Carrier<br>
     Clothes for me, Wes, baby laid out<br>
Piggy time! (Floor for one, lap for the other)</p>
<p dir="ltr">Weekly:<br>
Meal plan<br>
Wash diapers 2x<br>
Groceries<br>
Check and sync calendars<br>
Vaccuum the middles (aka don't move stuff, just get what you can get)<br>
Sweep/mop floors.<br>
Clean bathroom<br>
     Toilet<br>
Sink<br>
Tub/shower<br>
Clean pig cages<br>
Clean out fridge<br>
Wipe down the stove<br>
Laundry<br>
Trash</p>
<p dir="ltr">Monthly:<br>
Dust<br>
Windows/mirrors<br>
Wipe down appliances inside and out.<br>
File papers.<br>
Clean washer, dryer, dishwasher.<br>
Wash sheets.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yearly:<br>
Outside windows.<br>
Wipe walls, baseboards, cabinets inside and out.<br>
Switch out clothes for the season.<br>
Wash pillows, comforter, duvets.<br>
Clear out expired medicines.<br>
Vaccuum under/behind things.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Is it perfect? No. Is it what you should do? Probably not. But this is my plan for my home and hopefully it'll work for me! Oh and one other thing: I don't plan to accomplish everything on this list alone. This is the plan for the home. Which means my husband will be helping too. This will just keep us both on track. What do your routines look like? You may not have them written down but everyone has some sort of a routine.</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-58266349496782379362016-03-04T13:45:00.001-05:002016-03-04T13:45:24.988-05:00The Fears of My Mama Heart<p dir="ltr">Lord, make our daughters like Sarah and Rebecca<br>
Like Rachel and like Leah, who built the house of Israel<br>
Lord, make our daughters like Sarah and Rebecca<br>
Like Rachel and like Leah, who built the house of Israel<br>
Oh Lord, we pray</p>
<p dir="ltr">I was listening to the playlist of music I curated for when I'm in labor earlier and this song jumped out at me. (No, I'm not in labor yet. I won't be live-blogging that. I just wanted to listen to good Christian music and that fit the bill.) I first heard this song at Houghton College during a concert by John Waller himself. At the time, the song struck me because I longed to be like these great women of the Bible myself, to be a woman after G-d's own heart, to be someone others could look at and say that I took after Sarah and Rebecca. These days, this song holds a different meaning to me.</p>
<p dir="ltr">My daughter is almost done with the time she'll spend growing inside me. Any time between now and Easter, I could go into labor and she could make her entrance. As uncomfortable as I'm getting and as ready as I am to have my body back to myself, I wonder if I'm ready to step into motherhood in this way. Yes, I'm already her mother but the minute she's in my arms, our dynamic changes. Taking care of her right now is almost a passive action. I don't have to put much thought into feeding her or comforting her. I don't have to change diapers or put her to sleep. Those things just happen on their own right now. But someday soon, she'll be not only her own being but she'll have her own needs on her own schedule and I won't be able to tend them quite as easily. My little girl will make her demands known in a very different way and as the day draws nearer, I wonder if I'm prepared.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Will I be able to distinguish between the signs for "I'm hungry" and "I'm wet"? Will I be able to comfort her and rock her to sleep as easily on the outside as I can now? I already know she's a Daddy's girl. Does that mean I'm doomed to a day of fussing and crying until we get home at night and he can hold her? As her sole source of food for the next several months and main source for the next year, will I be able to handle it? Will I get touched out? Will I have enough milk? Will I recognize whether she has a good latch and be able to correct it if not? Or will I be so overwhelmed that I'll want to give up long before it's best for her?</p>
<p dir="ltr">And once she's older, will I be able to teach her what she needs to know? To set the best example for her? Will my daughter grow to be like Sarah and Rebecca, like Rachel and like Leah? Will she look up to me as a godly woman, a good example? Will she see the influence of these women in my life? Or will she see G-d as a part of my life but not the center? Will she see my flaws, my shortcomings, my ineptitude before she sees my love for the Creator? What will she think is the central part of my life? Will it be my faith? Or my family? Or myself?</p>
<p dir="ltr">My daughter already has her own personality, her own thoughts and ideas and opinions. She already has preferences for what foods she likes (spicy foods and cupcakes seem to be a favorite, chicken not so much). She's not even born yet and she's fully formed. Yes, the events of her life will shape her and mold her. I don't mean to say she's the same person now that she will be even a year from now. But the blueprint is there. As she grows, either the workmanship can be shoddy and can result in crooked walls and crumbling foundation or it can be solid and she can grow into the person G-d intends for her to be. And a good chunk of which way that goes depends on the examples set for her and the ways in which her father and I raise her. </p>
<p dir="ltr">What a huge responsibility! I think the weight of what we've signed up for is starting to sink in as it becomes more and more real that this little one is an independent person and will very soon occupy her own space in this world. I love my daughter and I would do this again in a heartbeat just to have her. I do not regret this pregnancy or the timing of it. I know that this was when she was meant to make her way into our lives and I could not be more overjoyed. That does not mean I'm not allowed to be apprehensive or overwhelmed. My daughter means everything to me and I want to do what's right by her. It's only natural that I would see the monumental size of this task and balk just a bit. To raise her to take after these great women, I feel inadequate. To show her what it means to be a godly woman, to love the L-rd with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and with all your strength is a huge calling. There are so many, many things I want her to learn. I guess I need to start learning some of them myself and pray that she'll see my struggles to be like Hannah and Ruth and Mary, to be the mother she deserves and the woman I know G-d wants me to be, and that she'll realize her mommy may not be perfect. And I may stumble and fall time and time again. But I will always pick myself back up and I will always try again and I will always, through it all, love her and her father and I will strive to put G-d at the center of our home and our lives and my own heart.</p>
<p dir="ltr">L-rd, make me a woman after Your heart. Make me a mother like Hannah. Help me devote my life and my child to Your cause. For this child, I have prayed, G-d, and I turn her life over to You. Guide me in the best ways to raise her and love her and care for her. Give me patience as I await her arrival and as I figure out how to be her mama in a more active way. Grant me humility to ask for help when I need it and just enough sleep to get through my days. G-d, bless my daughter. Let her grow into the woman You have planned for her to be and keep her in Your ways. I ask only that You'd let me witness Your work and I thank You for the privilege of having a part in this miracle. Amen.</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-35000830687180948532016-01-01T15:33:00.000-05:002016-01-01T15:33:18.585-05:00My One Word for 20162016 is going to be one hell of a year. Don't get me wrong; 2015 was incredible, but I am so excited for 2016. 2015 was the year I first began as a wife. The year we began to figure out what that meant. We navigated budgetting and saving and meal planning and chores. We added some fur babies to our home (one at the end of 2014, the other this fall). We took a leap of faith and handed control of one particular aspect of our lives over to G-d. Then, on July 4th, we found out our family would be growing by another human. (Thankfully only one this time!) It's been insane ever since.<br />
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Ever since that moment, I've been growing into a different person, a mom, her mom. I know I'm never done growing as a person and I know my identity isn't solely who I am as a mom. I'm still a wife, a woman, a daughter, a sister. And those parts of me are nowhere near finished. But now there's this big new part being unlocked. It started the moment that second line showed up and has grown day by day. Every time I've heard her heartbeat or felt her kick, I've fallen a little more in love with her. And every moment she's gone nuts for the San Jose Sharks or kicked out of shock at the newest Star Wars movies and I've seen the pride and the joy on my husband's face, I've fallen more in love with him.<br />
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In this next year, while everyone is making their resolutions, I think my goals are fairly simple. You may disagree. In about three months, my daughter will enter the world and I want to be the mama she needs. I want to show her love, to show her what it means to be a godly woman and a loving wife. I want to show her how to adult, to budget and save and meal plan and cook. And I want to teach her to take care of herself too. To take five minutes for a shower, to drink a cup of tea and just breathe. I want to show her that eating good, healthy food doesn't mean being deprived or boring and that working out is something we do to feel our best and to be good stewards of the body G-d gave us, not because we don't like our reflection or we hate our thighs.<br />
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Do I think she's going to soak all of this in by the end of 2016?No. But I do think it will start to set a firm foundation. These values I want to impart to her aren't necessarily things I've already got mastered. So this goal isn't just "Keep living how I am but with a baby." It involves work and growth and deliberate change.<br />
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I don't expect to suddenly change who I am overnight. My diet won't suddenly be 100% organic or sugar free. We won't suddenly have our bills line up perfectly every month and I might sometimes overspend on stupid things. I won't suddenly work out 3x a week or stick to my devos every day. But these are all things I plan to work on. So for 2016, my one word is 'temple'. My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit and it is my job to care for it, inside and out.<br />
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Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from G-d? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor G-d with your bodies.</div>
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-1 Corinthians 6:19-20</div>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-77245331047882410222015-12-08T14:09:00.001-05:002015-12-08T14:09:12.481-05:00There's Changes Coming to Our Little World...<p dir="ltr">Well it sure has been a while. What have I been up to you ask? Those few of you not in my real life may not know this but I've been a bit busy lately. Adjusting to married life, being a nanny, growing a baby. Yes, folks, that's right. I'm preggers. Our daughter is due in March and we couldn't be more thrilled. She's very active and likes to try to find the "corners" of my belly. When she was small enough, she wedged herself way down low and hid there. Now that she's quite a bit bigger (the size of a butternut squash this week), she tries to hide under my ribs. Which, as you can imagine, isn't very comfortable for the mama!</p>
<p dir="ltr">We've been taking Bradley Method classes for a few weeks now and after my initial reluctance, they're not horrible. Bradley is very naturally based. They're pro-breastfeeding, anti-medications, and anti-circumcision. They advocate the Brewer diet, which is heavy on the protein and vegetables. The method is also called "Husband Coached Birth" and there was my problem with it. My beliefs about birth are about following your instincts. Yes there are times medical intervention is necessary but if everything is going as it was designed, I believe that the mother should be free to move as she wishes, be in whatever position she wishes, and make whatever noises she wishes. As wonderful as my husband is, he can't know what my body is telling me to do and my initial reaction to "husband coached" was a belief that they were going to advocate HE tell ME what to do to cope with what was going on in my body. And that just wasn't going to fly.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Luckily, so far, everything we've learned has been about him supporting me, encouraging me, being by my side. Yes, some of the things they recommend he say are ridiculous and cheesy. But Wes knows me well enough to know what will and won't work. He knows the things that would irritate me and the things that would help. We've had conversations after we leave class about how we think that information will play into our little girl's birth and what we envision. During classes, we've learned things about nutrition and about pregnancy. We talked about how our support person (they call them a coach but that still bothers me a bit) can help during labor and some of the things they can say.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Every week, we have homework. There are certain exercises we're supposed to do. Kegels, squatting, tailor sitting, pelvic rocking, practicing your relaxation, butterflies. This week, I've finally started making an effort to do them. I had hoped pelvic rocking would get this baby off my sciatic nerve and make me a bit more comfortable. It doesn't really seem to have worked. However, it does seem to have made her flip. So I'm now getting kicked in the ribs and have someone's little head pressing into my bladder. This has the side effect of increasing my waddle, especially when I really have to pee! Yes, she was already on her way to being head down before I started doing this but it definitely helped speed things up and keep her there. (She kept going back and forth!)</p>
<p dir="ltr">Though I'm not sure this class is actually going to help me based on what we've learned so far on the actual day this child makes her arrival, I do think it's been helpful. While I knew a lot of this information beforehand (Hi, I'm a voracious reader and probably read three books cover to cover before I was out of the first trimester), a lot of it is new to my dear husband. And even if it's not brand new, hearing it from a different source helps reinforce it. It's also given us the openings to talk about things we want and don't want. Questions like whether I want him in the tub with me or whether I'd prefer him close but not in, what it is I find helpful to relax (because pretending I'm asleep isn't gonna do it). </p>
<p dir="ltr">Overall, this pregnancy has been pretty easy. I'm starting to reach the uncomfortable stage though and sometimes pregnancy really kicks my ass. During the first trimester, I only had a little morning sickness. I was nauseous most mornings but rarely vomitted. I was absolutely exhausted which made me super grateful for my job. Being able to nap when the kids napped was huge. I haven't had too many cravings and the ones I do have are mostly fleeting. I crave it, I get it, I'm good. I don't often crave it again. And it's a lot of the power of suggestion too. Someone mentions chocolate donuts and then I want one. I do like spicy food a lot though. Lots of Indian and Thai in my diet lately.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Now that I'm towards the end of the second trimester, things like heartburn are starting to become an issue. She's about two pounds now and I can only imagine how bad it's going to get when she gains another seven inches and another five pounds! (So far today I've taken 150 mg of zantac and 1 Tums. And all I had for breakfast was some oatmeal and water!) Like I said, I'm starting to waddle which makes me feel oh so attractive. But I love seeing my little girl grow and Wes tells me all the time how beautiful I am. Even if my belly is starting to stretch beyond the limits I thought possible. Every time we go to see the midwife (Rachel), the baby tries to hide from the doppler so they can't get a good read on her heartbeat. I don't think a student has gotten it yet. She's too active!</p>
<p dir="ltr">Well, I think that's about it for now. Before my blogspot app tries to delete this again, I'm gonna go ahead and publish it. My goal is to pop in at least once a week to update you all about whatever's going through my head and to work on my writing skills some more. (My dear sweet husband is on me about that book I'm supposed to be writing and at least this gets me in that sort of headspace!) Lastly, those of you who know me in person may have noticed I didn't mention my daughter's name. I've decided, at least for the time being, to keep that private. I use it on my private social media accounts but I'm not comfortable with the idea of having it out there for the entire world to see at this time. I ask that you please respect my decision in the comments or I'll have to delete them and I'd really rather not!</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-90571952633806052582015-03-27T11:53:00.000-04:002015-03-27T11:53:15.902-04:00RIP GrandmaMy grandmother died.<br />
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It's been a little over a week and honestly I didn't think it would affect me like this. In fact, I had a whole different blog post written that I meant to schedule for posting while I was gone. Then I forgot. So today I went to add the finishing touches and realized, while it's still true and still going to be posted later, I have something else I want to say today.<br />
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I went to my mom's for the funeral. I told myself I went because it was expected of me, because what sort of granddaughter misses her grandmother's funeral service, because my mom needed me. I told myself I didn't need everyone offering condolences and saying they were sorry for my loss. That we weren't close so it wasn't that upsetting. And then I woke up Wednesday morning. We had a ton of things to do before we were ready to go to the service and the minute I got out of bed, I started working on them.<br />
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The photo collage to be displayed needed to be done. The house needed to be picked up because people were coming by after. I needed to get dressed and do my hair, my makeup. I started working and then, still in my pajamas, two of Mom's friends showed up for a ride. We knew they were coming but they were early and everyone else was already upstairs getting ready. So I played hostess and I got coffee and creamer and then excused myself to get dressed.<br />
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From that moment, I didn't stop moving for nearly 48 hours. Oh I sat at the funeral but I didn't rest. I perched on the edge of my chair. And I drove home of course (four and a half hours worth of driving). But who can say that driving that long, in the twilight and then the night, is relaxing? I brought the kids back with me yesterday so I could clean. And I did the dishes. And the laundry. And I showered. And I unpacked. And I made dinner. And I don't think I've been relaxed for one moment since I woke up Wednesday morning.<br />
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If I stop moving, stop doing things, stop and just relax, I'm afraid I'll think. And if I think, I'll process. And if I process, my grandmother really will be in that box, all turned to ash, and I might just cry. And I can't cry because I hate crying. Especially in front of other people. It was bad enough having to carefully weigh, when speaking at her funeral, whether it was better to look like a stone faced bitch and not shed a tear in front of all these people or whether it was better to show my weakness and know that they all understood the fact that I lost my grandma. (In the end, it didn't matter what I thought. I cried anyhow.)<br />
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This is a reaction I never thought I'd have. I never thought grief might make me unable to relax, oscillating between curled up on the couch mostly zoned out and unable to sit because there's shit that suddenly became very important to get done. And considering the fact that I know I'll see her again someday and the fact that she was in truly awful health, I'm sort of surprised it has me this upset. Several times in the last five years, I thought she was going to die in surgery. And then, on a random Wednesday night, in her sleep, she stopped breathing. It was unexpected and shocking. And there's a whole lot more details that are infuriating. She's gone. And it's hard to imagine and it's hard to wrap my head around.<br />
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My grandma died. And I'm here processing that fact. Grandma, you've got your health back. And your parents. And your best friend. And your son. And I know you're happy and I'll see you again. Until then, just try not to ask G-d any questions about how He came up with catfish, okay?Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-25835797035859886722015-03-27T11:12:00.000-04:002015-04-06T10:21:59.828-04:00My Wrestling with G-d (or Lack Thereof)<p dir="ltr">I've realized lately that I don't struggle with G-d much anymore. I've struggled with some big issues in the past decade and it seems like suddenly they've disappeared. I struggled with self-harm. I struggled with my depression instead of just letting it come over me. I struggled with the decision to start dating my ex, a non-Christian bordering on atheism. I struggled deciding where to go to college. I struggled with the decision to have sex, and then to stop. I struggled with the decision to let go of the future I had planned for myself. First to change my major and then to end my engagement. I struggled with sexual immorality. I struggled with trying to understand if I was pure or not. I struggled deciding what to do after my au pair year. I struggled with the decision to start dating the man I now call my husband. I struggled even deciding to move to Ohio.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Where has all that struggle gone? All that passion? All that fight? On the one hand, you could say that the lack of struggling means my life is going great and nothing needs to be struggled with. That I should enjoy this time of ease and stop trying to argue about everything. But I don't think this is really meant to be a time of ease.</p>
<p dir="ltr">My life feels like it's just going with the flow and accepting things. We, as Christians, are called to so much more! We're called to represent our Saviour on this earth and we are called to be His hands and feet. We're called to be Christ-like. And I am not. I am selfish and greedy and lazy. I am sinful. I know all this but I accept it most days. I don't turn to G-d and confess because most days I'm not even aware of my sins. I know I've sinned because I'm human but I don't pay attention to my individual failings. I just move on with my life. I mean, let's be honest, we're only human right?</p>
<p dir="ltr">But here's the thing. We're supposed to take up our cross daily. Some days I'm not even sure where I put mine. That is not living the way I'm made to. My life was made for more. There are things I know I ought to be wrestling with in my soul and yet, I can't seem to dig deeper into my faith. I seem to be stuck. Is it my age? Is it my stage of life? Is this just a season where I'm plateaued? Or am I just going through the motions?</p>
<p dir="ltr">I want more. I don't want this humdrum day to day. I know I said in a previous post that I'm accepting the fact that I'm normal but maybe I just need to focus on being abnormal in a different way. I want more than status quo. I want a life that is clearly touched by G-d. I don't want this life to be about routine and expectations. I want to live the way I am meant to. And yes, that means going to church every week. But it also means letting G-d use the other six days a week too. My faith is not to be confined to an hour every Sunday or even to a half hour devotional each day. My faith is meant to be a part of me and I want to start showing it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Since I began writing this post nearly two weeks ago now, I've created a prayer journal and began using it yesterday. I have sections for praise, for confession, for praying for my husband, for our future children, for myself. I have a section for praying for others and several for taking notes. On sermons, on the Bible, on books I'm reading or quotes I discover or even lyrics from songs. I'm praying right now that G-d would make me into the woman I ought to be. The wife I should be and the mother my children need. But that's a subject for another post.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Have you ever gone through an experience like this? Have you ever felt like you were on a plateau with Christ?</p>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-54360566595562470312015-03-23T14:04:00.000-04:002015-03-23T14:04:18.661-04:00A Makeover for the BlogAs you may have noticed, my blog has undergone a bit of a makeover recently. This blog has been my online home for the last three years, though I may not have always been around so much. And lately the set up here hasn't reflected who I am now.<br />
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<div>
"A Madwoman with a Blog" was designed when I was focused on my fandom and on my eccentricities. Identifying myself as a madwoman was both a nod to the fact that The Doctor was called a madman with a box and a nod to the fact that I don't consider myself normal.</div>
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I never wanted to be normal. I thought it was a mark of uniqueness, of being exceptional. Well I've started to realize that's not so. My life looks a lot like most others. I go to work. I come home. I don't work out as much as I should. I eat more junk than I should. I sleep. I watch TV. I tend to drift through life the way I think a lot of people do.<br />
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Well, no more. I'm committing to this thing called life. I'm trying to get myself healthier by working out and snacking smart. I'm trying to take time out to work on my hobbies. My knitting, my sewing, my reading. I don't want to just drift anymore. I want to commit. And yes, that does mean being a regular around this place. Whether my entries are just an account of what's going on in my life or they're an in-depth look into my psyche, I want to commit to writing. This is part of what He made me for and I've been a fool to ignore it for as long as I have.<br />
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So poke around, enjoy the view, let me know what you think. And commit with me. Commit to living life your way. Not just accepting the status quo.</div>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-41092084097309349842015-03-05T16:36:00.001-05:002015-03-05T16:36:46.508-05:00My Heart and All Its Problems - Physical and EmotionalMy heart sucks. I was born with two holes in my heart and suffered a heart murmur until I was about ten. When I was in college, I developed heart palpitations. They're aggravated by stress and caffeine. My heart these last few weeks has been insane. Lots of palpitations, lots of just feeling funny.<br />
<br />
This morning, I got a latte with my freebie and forgot to say "half caf". I had approximately 1/3 of my drink before it hit.<br />
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I was nauseous. My chest felt funny. My pulse rate was slow, so slow. And I still had another fifteen minute until I got to work. So I guzzled water, I trashed the rest of my delicious latte, and I decided I needed to reduce my stress for the day.<br />
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After Natalie woke up, I loaded some toys into the car, bundled her up, and we picked Mac up from preschool. Then I took both of them back to my place. Is what I'm doing here any different than what I would have done there? Not really. But being in my place, my home, it helps. I did the dishes while I made lunch and for once it was productive for my life. I do dishes every day, sometimes multiple times, but most of the time I come home and I see that mess waiting for me. And it just stresses me out again. Yes, I've spent most of naptime watching Netflix and on my laptop just like if I was "at" work. But once they wake up, I'll unload the dishwasher and I'll put a few things in and then, I'll get to feed my charges and my husband all in one swoop. And I get to eat at a decent hour.<br />
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I spent a few minutes putting on a face mask -which was an epic fail actually. I turned into a tomato. And I'm going to do my nails. I'm going to pamper myself. I'm going to do whatever it takes to center myself, to destress, to get in tune with who I am. Because I haven't been lately.<br />
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And ya know what, I used to think confidence and feeling comfortable in your own skin was a slope. I thought once you got it, you had it. And lately I feel like I've lost it. I think back to when I was in Europe and I had it. I swear I had it back then. I felt comfortable and confident and I was active. I was walking around the city, about two hours a day. Which meant I lost weight. And it showed. I had a glow that I've lost. I survived the dreariest winter in 50 years in that city. WITHOUT my anti-depressants.<br />
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My anxiety got out of hand a few times but I knew who I was. I felt comfortable, especially when I was with my friends or on my own. But lately? I feel like I suck as an adult.<br />
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At 22, in Europe, not knowing how to cook wasn't an issue. I just ate what Kathrin made. If I was hungry at other times, I ate a slice of that delicious bread with yummy cheese. I don't think I even went so far as making pasta for myself the entire time I was there. Yes, I cooked a few times for the family. I tried my hand at burgers, lasagna, tacos. But I couldn't just whip something up. I don't think I ever saw Kathrin use a recipe. She made her tomato sauce from scratch. She whipped up some form of frittata weekly without any guideline. Things just got thrown into a pan and cooked. Salad dressing was just sprinkled on. Meanwhile the one time she asked me to do it, I looked up a recipe. How else was I to know how much oil or vinegar, salt or pepper to use?<br />
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Now, I want to be able to throw dinner together just by looking in the fridge. I want to have a month where I can toss chicken in a pot and a vegetable in another and just wing it. And have it turn out delicious. But I don't know the first thing about cooking. I can follow recipes but I cannot cook without one.<br />
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Furthermore, I suck at being a girl I've decided. I don't know how to do my makeup. I don't have a skin care routine. I manage to shower and use deodorant and that's about it. I'm not well dressed or put together and though it might not matter to some people, it's starting to bug me. I even suck at keeping a home. Both decor and cleaning. I didn't even know how to properly empty my vacuum cleaner until this past weekend!<br />
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Are these things I could learn? Yes. But I feel like by 25 I should have some of this down. And instead, I feel behind. Behind where I was two years ago when I knew who I was. Behind my friends who seem to be able to cook their own dinners without problem. Behind my expectations of where I should be.<br />
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This is a pretty dreary end to this post I suppose but I don't really have a revelation yet. I just know that I feel behind. I feel like I've lost something I didn't know you could lose and I don't know how to start getting it back.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-6822391250249992392014-02-16T20:29:00.001-05:002014-02-16T20:29:45.171-05:00Crunch-a, crunch-a, crunch-aI've given up washing my hair. Or using deodorant. And as soon as I run out of cold cream and lip balm I'm giving those up too. As well as lotion.<br />
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I'm not about to just be a smelly, greasy, dried out mess though. I'm going crunchy.<br />
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It comes as no surprise to those close to me that I'm a bit eccentric in some ways. I hope to have a natural pregnancy (a few years from now!) and to give birth with a midwife, hopefully at home in a tub of water with my wonderful husband by my side. I plan to use cloth diapers and to avoid any chemicals that I can when it comes to my children. For the last six years or so, I've used a menstrual cup during my cycle (first a DivaCup, now a Lunette) and couldn't imagine going back to tampons.<br />
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So it should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm giving up on shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant. And possibly hair dye. Which is something I'm dealing with still.<br />
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To clean my hair, I'm using baking soda and then rinsing it after with apple cider vinegar to moisturize it. For deodorant, baking soda mixed with cornstarch and coconut oil has been doing just fine the last two days. And it seems like it's going to last for. ever. I swear each day I use about a pee sized amount and it will last forever.<br />
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So the big question I'm getting is why. Honestly?<br />
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It's cheap. I need to save up for some big life changes that are coming up (more on those later) and this will save money. Plus, if I can do all this naturally, why bother with the chemicals? Who wants to use chemicals when this is all natural and so much better for you? And the new deodorant is working better than the commercial stuff ever did.<br />
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Guess I'll keep you updated.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-23646773266645203602013-11-13T19:16:00.002-05:002013-11-13T19:16:57.939-05:00My Story: In a NutshellOn my left arm, from shoulder to elbow, I have a tattoo. My tattoo took three hours to complete and a good chunk of my savings at the time. In script, sandwiched between roses at both top and bottom, my arm reads, "For I know the plans I have for you, [declares the L-rd,] plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Though the design is beautiful, over the following weeks, I struggled with the decision I'd made to get this large tattoo. I think a piece of that struggle had to do with what prompted the tattoo in the first place.<br />
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When I was eighteen, I fell in love. Shoving all my logic and my reason aside, ignoring the code I'd created for qualities my future mate must have, and blind to all but my feelings, I quickly got engaged. Over the next three years, I missed sign after sign that this relationship was not meant to be and I slowly lost sight of who I truly was and what I truly valued. Though I didn't think I was altering myself to please him, who I was changed subconsciously. College is a time of great change for most people and that was very true for me. At the start of freshman year, I was completely in love with the wrong man and only marginally faithful to G-d. As my collegiate career progressed, through the influence of my friends, professors, and classes, as well as the calling of the King Himself, I changed. I started to fall out of love with my fiance and draw closer to G-d. I may have realized the second part but it is only in retrospect that I can understand the first.<br />
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Before my King pulled me to Him, I ran away. I got scared I think and I wasn't ready to sacrifice the major life changing decision I'd already made, to give my life to this man, for a far off Creator who I didn't feel very close to. I felt my life could both serve Him and hold to the decision I'd made. Worse than that, I fell down a rabbit hole. I made some very large mistakes and I gave myself to him before I gave myself to Him. In the name of love, I broke the promise I'd made when I was nine years old. I had sex before I was married.<br />
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Only four months after I initially made that decision, G-d started to convict me. He laid it on my heart that what I was doing was wrong. But after talking out my confliction with a close friend, I tried to make things right with both G-d and my fiance. The resulting conversation was the worst fight I have ever been in. The heartache I felt that night, the number of tears I cried are something I wouldn't wish on another. Somehow, we put a band aid on our relationship and lasted another nine months. It took six months for him to be all but done and another three for G-d to fully work in me.<br />
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As my first relationship fell to pieces, I clung to G-d. I clung to His promise and His truth. I knew that He had plans for me that I knew nothing of. I knew He had a future for me and that He knew who my future husband was. I got my tattoo while I was still healing from my heartbreak. I took His promises and I had them engraved on my body. I struggled to come to terms with my tattoo at first. I wondered if I'd ever look at it and not think about my heartbreak. I wondered if I'd ever get over what went wrong in my life. I wondered how that story would affect my future. Then people started asking about it. I started encountering people outside of my circle, who didn't know my story. They'd see flowers poking out of my shirt and they'd admire the beautiful artwork. Inevitably, they'd be surprised at such a large tattoo on such a little girl. And they'd ask. They'd want to hear the story. Where are those words from? What made me chose that?<br />
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The tattoo on my arm started as a way to heal, a reminder of the promises He made and why I'd chosen to end my relationship, to sacrifice that part of myself. These days, it's so much more. On a regular basis, I have customers at work ask me what it says, admire the roses. I'm able to share an abbreviated version of my story with them. I'm able to tell them that all my plans fell apart but that I trust Someone else has better for me. And today I sit here, in Ohio for the first time in my life, my head resting on the arm of the man who now means the world to me. I know G-d has better plans for me. And today, I'm able to start living them. What's past is past and my future sits beside me. No matter what lies ahead of me, I know that G-d has a future in store for me and my tattoo is one small way that He reminds me of that on a daily basis.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-37672359853496122602013-08-21T14:28:00.002-04:002013-08-21T14:53:50.768-04:00G-d: In the DetailsThis summer has been so very full. So much has changed. I feel more fully me now than I did at the beginning of the summer. I'm closer to my "true name" now. I feel comfortable in my own skin and I feel closer to being an adult. A real adult.<br />
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One of the things that has changed this summer is my relationship status. It's impossible to make anyone else understand this but three months ago I didn't know Wesley and now I'm head over heels in love with him. I truly believe we have a future together. This relationship is something that G-d put together. They say nothing is like first love and I do believe that. Nothing will feel quite the same as falling in love the first time. My relationship with Ron was unique. And I did love him, truly. But it wasn't what G-d wanted for my life. Decisions I made were made outside of His will and somewhere in the back of my head, I knew things were wrong. I knew that my life was going in a path that it wasn't meant to.<br />
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This relationship, already, is like nothing I've experienced. Before we were even official, Wes decided he wanted to pray with me. Our relationship started rooted in faith, in G-d. I prayed that if G-d wanted Wes and I to become an "us" that He would open all the doors, and if not that He would slam them shut in our faces. We're like nothing else. I'm confident that he is what G-d wants for me. The way I feel about him is hard to put into words.<br />
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I remember asking Auntie Lori about how you knew you were ready for your first kiss years and years ago. (I think I was about 15 at the time.) She told me you just know. And honestly, I do believe that. I also believe that I just know that Wes is the one. It's impossible to put into words how I feel about him. Just like you can't explain what it feels like to be ready for your first kiss, you can't explain how it feels to know that G-d is writing your love story. I feel completely secure in this. Yes, things are going fast according to typical standards. But they don't feel fast. Camp, like college, gives things a jump start. Just as I was super close to my roommate and the girls across the hall within a few weeks of school starting freshman year, just as Emma knows things about me that friends I've had for years don't because we lived together, or as Emy and I got close enough to share a bed within about a month and a half of knowing each other in London, Wes and I got started being trapped in canteen together for seven hours a week into the summer. Things have moved fast because they've been put into a sort of crucible. They've melded together, fused together quickly.<br />
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Today seems like a day that G-d is making Himself known in the little details, the little choices of my life. I've had three job interviews in two days. Two for one place and one for another (that one was a second interview; the first was on the 9th). I didn't really want to even apply at the one that I've had two interviews for. I did it to please my dad. After the first interview, I really didn't want to go back for a second interview. I didn't get a good vibe from it. But to please my dad, I went to the second interview. I waited for 20 minutes before they finally saw me and then after a 10 minute interview was basically offered the job. I asked about benefits and pay rate. They're both worse than at the other place. Yay for my gut feeling being backed up by facts.<br />
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Afterwards, I met Wes for coffee and bagels and then we walked home. When we got to the pond, I chose to go the long way around. I hadn't been that way in forever and it's prettier. Halfway round, I look across the pond and see someone walking a dog. Ron. I haven't seen him since before I left for Europe. Didn't know where he was living, if he was even still in state. (Frankly, I had suspected that he was still in the area. His motivation and his work ethic were not up to the ideas he had. But I assumed he wasn't living with his parents.) I was surprised to see him. If we'd taken the short way back, we'd have run into him. And I'm glad we didn't because I'm glad he's not part of my life, I'm not sure what I would say to him. To quote Blake Shelton, "Not only [I] don't love [him], but [I] don't hate [him] anymore." It was the way I'd feel running into a friend from high school, the way I felt when I used to run into Lindsay at Jo-Ann's before we patched things up. Awkward and unsure of how to act. I would have had the same reaction if Wes wasn't there. And I was startled to see him. In the same way I was startled to see a comment from Reigna on an old FB photo. I'd forgotten she might show up there and her presence shocked me.<br />
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But if we'd gone the short way, we would have run into him. It was right about even with how far we were. And the fact that I chose to go the long way today seems to me like a little detail in which G-d is showing Himself. The reassurance that I am making the right choices with my life now, that I am happy and that my past is truly my past... I see G-d working in my life, orchestrating the details. And I am so glad my G-d is so big, so strong, so mighty. There truly is nothing my G-d cannot do.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-31246849293136285232013-06-07T15:41:00.001-04:002013-06-07T15:41:34.424-04:00Vulnerability in Pre-Camp PrepThe theme for this summer with the camp I'm working at is Close Encounters. I'm supposed to think about encounters I've had with Christ and get ready to share them. The time that I've felt G-d's love most clearly was during the six months surrounding my break-up. But to share that story, I feel like it's so complicated. And if you've heard me tell stories, you know that I get long and rambling and try to tell all the little details. There are details in that story that I don't want to share right now. There are details in that story that I don't think are necessarily public information. Honestly, I don't even want to share the fact that I was engaged. I feel that it adds to the failure I suppose. If you've gotten that far with someone and you couldn't make it work, isn't that a sign on you? Never mind the fact that he gave up working on us before I did. Never mind the fact that it wasn't G-d's will in the first place. Apparently ending my engagement makes me a failure.<br />
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Consciously, I don't think this. But apparently my subconscious does. Because she doesn't want me to share that. I also feel like it will make me less desirable to men. Like my past will scare them off. So my ex-fiance has become simply "my ex" and I am going to choose to leave out the wedding planning and the proposal unless it's absolutely necessary for the point I'm going to make. (If my point includes my sexual past, then my engagement will probably be mentioned as well. But does my sexual past need to be included in every discussion? No. I'm no longer broken. I'm over it. Unless it makes sense to become that open, that particular struggle is going to remain private. My closest friends know. Everyone who reads this blog knows. But do my coworkers need to know? Nope.)<br />
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Because of my tendency to try to include every detail, the story of how I encountered G-d so closely and so tangibly would be very very long. But if I bear it down to the essentials? (Or is it bare it down?)<br />
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We grew apart. We grew up and as I got closer to G-d and he did not find Christ, we fought. Our priorities were misaligned. I was unwilling to admit that we couldn't make it work, unwilling to give up my first love, and I was unable to see that I was more emotionally invested than he was, that I was more serious about us than he was. He was done fighting for us, wasn't willing to work on us any longer. But I was stubborn. And I wasn't ready. So we made an agreement not to decide until I was home from finals. During that three month period, we would work on us 110%. During that time, G-d worked to show me I had been romanticizing and that my view of where we were was very different from where we really were. Our issues were bigger than I thought they were. G-d showed me that Ron was already out of the relationship emotionally. He showed me also that it was never in His will for me to be with Ron and that my relationship had become more important to me than my G-d. I moved from unwilling to let go to tentatively willing but praying with all my heart that I wouldn't be forced to. Finally, I saw that I had to. And in that three months, in all the chaos that was going on in my soul, I knew that was the right thing to do. I knew it was so difficult because I was so resistant, because I was so stubborn, and because I had fought against it for years, if I'm truly honest. G-d gave me the strength to call it off and He gave me comfort in the aftermath. Both through Himself and His love, through the reassurance that I was doing what pleased Him, and through the support of my family and friends in ways I never imagined.<br />
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When I bear it down to that, even if it's still not a short explaination, it's much shorter than the rambling story of why that I could give. And it's much more reasonable and less scary to think about sharing.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-54559237886985228792013-06-05T14:46:00.000-04:002013-06-05T14:46:03.975-04:00Excuses, excuses...Hello, folks...<br />
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Long time no see, eh? For a bit, I was using my journal a lot more and didn't feel the need to use this. Then for a bit I've been avoiding writing. First because I didn't want to confront leaving Europe, leaving my girls, moving on and then because well I'm avoiding delving into my psyche. I'm sure there's a lot going on in there regarding leaving and coming back and no longer being an ex-pat and trying to figure out where I fit in. It's easier to leave the door closed. There's stuff in there too about how I feel about my Poppy (my almost 95 year old great-grandfather) moving to a nursing home and how I feel about my kitty being 15 years old (which is one year shy of when we lost my oldest cat, my Smokey).<br />
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There's irritation at not being able to get around on my own thanks to the lack of public transportation and there's distance between myself and G-d that I don't want to confront.<br />
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Honestly, that's the biggest one. When there's distance between G-d and me, I don't blog. I don't journal. Doing that makes me confront the distance and the sin and the issues I've let crop up. I've read my Bible the last two days (after skipping nearly a month) and I'm feeling convicted but I haven't prayed. And that is what's going to get me back in touch with Him. So I need to do that and I know it but I know that will take time and emotional energy and it is just so much easier to watch TV than to drain myself like that. Today though I'm going to the gym (actually I'm leaving in about fifteen minutes) and hopefully I can use some of that time during my run to get in touch with G-d. I guess we'll see though.<br />
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I leave Sunday for camp and will have limited internet access so I'm not sure how much you should expect from me until August.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-29905891298642779152013-04-25T10:33:00.000-04:002013-04-25T10:33:02.117-04:00Romans 12: A RevelationI have never fit in. It's a simple fact of my life. I was never popular and I've embraced the idea that I am weird. In fact, someone told me a few weeks ago that I was normal and I argued with him. The idea of being normal to me is tied up with the idea of fitting into a box and being a cookie cutter Stepford wife. Or whatever the equivalent is for a single twenty-something. So when I came across Romans 12:2 at Circle C Ranch years ago, I immediately clung to it.<br />
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(<a href="http://connectionlifechurch.wordpress.com/2011/07/04/07-04-11-daily-s-o-a-p-romans-121-2/">source</a>)</div>
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Right there, in black and white, in the first three words of this verse, it says, "Do not conform". I clung to that command. Do not conform. Do not be like this world. It's okay to not fit in. It's okay to stand out. It's okay to be your own person.<br />
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I still believe it's important to be yourself. Later on in the chapter, Paul talks about using your own unique gifts and how each person ought to use his own talents in a way that pleases G-d. My gift is not money management. I am not meant to be the treasurer of my church's board of directors. I am not meant to be an accountant. My gifts lie elsewhere and I need to be true to them. (That's part of what I'm doing in writing this, frankly.)<br />
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The problem with the way my thirteen-year-old self interpreted this verse though is that she stopped after the first eleven words. Oh she had every word memorized. But the first three were what she clung to. When she was bullied for not dressing how everyone else did, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world." When she was accused (as if it were a bad thing) of being a lesbian since she'd never had a boyfriend and she had joined the Gay-Straight Alliance, "Do not conform".<br />
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(<a href="http://connectionlifechurch.wordpress.com/2011/07/04/07-04-11-daily-s-o-a-p-romans-121-2/">source</a>)</div>
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She missed what the other three quarters of it say. To paraphrase, "Do not conform. <b>Rather</b>, be transformed mentally." She was so glad to cling to the idea that she wasn't supposed to look like the rest of the world that she forgot that she might have to change. She wasn't required to be clad in American Eagle from head to toe and listen to Top 40 radio but she also shouldn't remain static in who she was. The changes that should have overtaken her were more mental than physical and had nothing to do with popularity. She needed to learn how to relate to her parents without screaming. She needed to learn how to be a follower of Christ and not a fan of Jesus. She needed to learn how to seek His face daily. And she needed to learn how to start her journey towards being the godly woman He wants her to be.<br />
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If she had realized that, if she had moved past the acceptance she found in the first verse and if she had realized the transformation that G-d was trying to work in her, she might have found the promise found in the second half of the verse more readily. If she had learned how to be transformed in light of His desires, she might have realized how to find His will sooner.<br />
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She didn't learn that. But I am. At thirteen, I needed to be accepted and I found that in Christ. I found Someone who didn't think I was weird and didn't want me to change in order to like me. I found someone who never fought with me over stupid things and who only wanted my best. I found someone who loved me. At thirteen, I needed that. But I wish that I'd revisited that verse with fresh eyes a few years later and realized that G-d was not calling me to a life of doing what I wanted. He was not calling me to a life of doing what made me happy. He was calling me to place my life on His altar. He was calling me to offer my body as a sacrifice to Him (Romans 12:1).<br />
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My life is supposed to be lived in a way that pleases my King. If I follow in His will, my life goes so much easier and I am happy. It might result in temporary discomfort but in the long run what He wants is best for me. If I let Him change me, I realize what He wants much sooner and I am able to say with conviction that I am living in a manner that is good and pleasing in His sight. I am able to say that my life is being lived in a way that brings glory to my King. I wonder what my life would be like if I'd learned this lesson before. That's a question I can never know.<br />
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What I do know is that I am learning now. And G-d has been good to me. He has arranged for me to have this amazing year, to return to the city where I left my heart four years ago, to make a friend there, and has lined up my next job, my next step. I don't know what comes after that. But I know I can trust Him. After all, He's gotten me this far. And if I keep letting Him change me and work in me, I have no doubt that I'll be able to see His will for what comes next.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-45583767704221960502013-03-28T16:32:00.000-04:002013-03-28T16:32:45.024-04:00Idolatry TodayI've been reading the major prophets for the last two months and one thing I keep coming across is the idea that Israel has forsaken G-d for the idols of the other nations. It would be so easy to glance over those verses, to ignore them.<br />
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This is the twenty-first century. We don't have idols anymore.<br />
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(<a href="http://carocat.co.uk/2008/04/13/doctor-who-the-fires-of-pompeii/">source</a>)</div>
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Our idols may not be of the "bow down in front of them to worship" sort today but that picture actually has a lot more to do with idols than you might think.<br />
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For the observant (and geeky) among us, you may notice that picture is actually from Doctor Who. Yes, that is Ten with his TARDIS and Donna from their trip to Pompeii. Today, we don't worship gods in the way the people of Israel did. We don't leave food in front of a statue so that the rain will fall and the grains will grow. Instead, our idols come in the form of "what do you value above G-d?"<br />
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Any "good Christian" will tell you automatically that they love G-d, they worship Jesus. But that's not what I asked. I asked what is more important in your life than the Most High?<br />
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Before you give me that kneejerk reaction, really think about it. Now I'm not saying I'm perfect and I'm not saying that I know what I'm doing. I'm sure there are "idols" in my life that G-d will reveal to me. Things I need to work on, things I'm putting above him. What would you rather do with your free time folks? Do you read your Bible? Do you attend worship services? How often during your honest, deep conversations does G-d come up?<br />
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I'm not saying you can't watch TV or read non-Christian books. I'm not saying every word out of your mouth needs to be praise to the King. We are complex people and there are various assets to our lives. But if my day ends and I spent three hours watching Supernatural but only twenty minutes in the Word of G-d, what does that say about my priorities? And even now I want to justify that. I want to qualify that with "But while I'm watching Supernatural I can be knitting my niece's blanket! And my niece is important!"<br />
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(<a href="http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/16700000/Sam-Dean-supernatural-16744488-1280-800.jpg">Left</a>, Right-my own)</div>
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Yes, Emilia is important. And I love that little girl more than is rational. Her blanket is important and it's something I spend a good chunk of my time on. But that's not the root issue. Because I could be watching the sermons I've missed instead. I could be listening to KLove. I could be praying. I choose to watch Supernatural. What does that say?<br />
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It says I'm addicted to TV and to the internet. For Lent, I reduced the amount of time I spent on social media sites. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't a sacrifice. And I can justify it. We are so good at justifying things. I can give you twenty reasons why what I did was OK. But how many of those are completely truthful?<br />
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Idols these days can take many forms. If there's anything in your life that you would hesitate to get rid of when asked to or prompted to by G-d, that might be an idol in your life.<br />
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Does that mean we can't enjoy things that aren't directly connected to the church or to G-d? I don't think so. I enjoy watching TV. I enjoy reading books. Even books that are fictional, that have non-Christian characters.<br />
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Even things that are good in your life can become idols. I've mentioned my ex before. I don't think I've mentioned how I was putting him over G-d. My engagement had become an idol in my life. I wanted Ron more than I wanted the Will of G-d for a while. Leaving him should not have been easy. And it wasn't. But it also shouldn't have taken me so long to realize that we weren't right together. That relationship never should have started if I'm honest.<br />
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What are your idols? What are you putting ahead of Him? Is it your love life? Your finances? Your entertainment choices? What is it that you tell G-d, "Not this. You can't have this."? What don't you trust Him with?Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-78551293466554083352013-03-26T17:30:00.000-04:002013-03-28T16:28:22.128-04:00Photo Dump<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There are a bunch of pictures clogging up my desktop so what better place to dump them than my blog?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfe4DyL_VnDrxpjhiOE9C0C_fsaiUg8mbA37fY2cEXXo4RsoxU8ItEvx7LFyi3ehEG0wIaUPeoDMT7LlszLjd0Op81bvvfdAmo2Jg-0j6dvFnR08nSOMWHCKbWcZbOGNwhEFwEFTMu6k/s1600/119908408798730077_5JlU3waV_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfe4DyL_VnDrxpjhiOE9C0C_fsaiUg8mbA37fY2cEXXo4RsoxU8ItEvx7LFyi3ehEG0wIaUPeoDMT7LlszLjd0Op81bvvfdAmo2Jg-0j6dvFnR08nSOMWHCKbWcZbOGNwhEFwEFTMu6k/s1600/119908408798730077_5JlU3waV_c.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHx-ydxZuqGnJaFcS-vjjrs7iC4z9tjNQhvH5nNvE8rOs9UHOejEBssscanwMgsca_gxFnoFtc2B8u2sOgnxLmLCKN7ppReC6ExEzoOeGpF3K8c0Hv9abl-7K8h_Ilrx2Fqo4xviVLXtk/s1600/amusing+stats.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHx-ydxZuqGnJaFcS-vjjrs7iC4z9tjNQhvH5nNvE8rOs9UHOejEBssscanwMgsca_gxFnoFtc2B8u2sOgnxLmLCKN7ppReC6ExEzoOeGpF3K8c0Hv9abl-7K8h_Ilrx2Fqo4xviVLXtk/s640/amusing+stats.png" width="640" /></a></div>
(I took this screenshot of my stats the other day. It amused me how everything was multiples of three.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCQ5-0wSFbePE0u-mjXmx4T3N0tPWuULl2wmubrtf9vwXViV3BUC1BZQJjaV_Aw_pJgtBzXNpRx-b4xt_SfRw_WisvuL9n69G1FYYdPVTsXRaqpr1VoTEiIme3J6inDNq3QDJiL9iQQ8/s1600/goodmorningworld.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCQ5-0wSFbePE0u-mjXmx4T3N0tPWuULl2wmubrtf9vwXViV3BUC1BZQJjaV_Aw_pJgtBzXNpRx-b4xt_SfRw_WisvuL9n69G1FYYdPVTsXRaqpr1VoTEiIme3J6inDNq3QDJiL9iQQ8/s320/goodmorningworld.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
("Good morning world" in Gallifreyan. Source got lost in the shuffle. Sorry.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh632I00K-jJdy0phjM8Yd9KRmVK4qIrHjz_GoJg8EYgX1LeF0Ls6iteofQx7teVOJxhz1mG5GWVSgOYCivkG8gQRXWuOMWpInvefqJP0QiYD5P7qeKHA_0Z7b6FWoBZsMC4315TsPGHG8/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh632I00K-jJdy0phjM8Yd9KRmVK4qIrHjz_GoJg8EYgX1LeF0Ls6iteofQx7teVOJxhz1mG5GWVSgOYCivkG8gQRXWuOMWpInvefqJP0QiYD5P7qeKHA_0Z7b6FWoBZsMC4315TsPGHG8/s320/Untitled.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Screenshot of my captcha a few weeks ago<br />
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Part of the knitting chart for a TARDIS hat I did as a Christmas gift for a friend</div>
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">Sorry, I know that one is huge. It's the instructions for the blanket I'm working on for my aunt's unborn daughter</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gJiNQWWZxeWPACfYy60xXx34Dw_aSJJ8oF9kJFpcNzXIiIXl7iaSFUbqa5Y1iKYbY8Xd6QwiaGS6uEaWGWuK0SZ4OKghtbLb9V4kfD5Ha_IQhAb0zSZng1OMzVeEiFk24KBu0rF3edI/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gJiNQWWZxeWPACfYy60xXx34Dw_aSJJ8oF9kJFpcNzXIiIXl7iaSFUbqa5Y1iKYbY8Xd6QwiaGS6uEaWGWuK0SZ4OKghtbLb9V4kfD5Ha_IQhAb0zSZng1OMzVeEiFk24KBu0rF3edI/s400/photo.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiogDrYt8aDxpyGK9OS9DxeJeWWKJQZwtKNEAdwgbB11c52tW0Et6m2z2lP8jaO_-_2ULKvtUPgoNYR4rDrAuqVR_17vKIqR_SNdY9wcBdD5kKqVo2WAt_ggbrt-3TS1eKSpUVcJ4E2fIk/s1600/cable+blanket+chart.png" imageanchor="1">.</a>The first 3 rows of my niece's blanket</span>Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-72983768169039140232013-03-24T19:18:00.000-04:002013-03-24T19:18:38.096-04:00Deep in the Hundred Acre Woods...I've been fairly stressed out the last day or two thanks to some nagging health problems (minor but irritating) and tonight was a rough bedtime shift. So tonight, I'm going to do some posies.<br />
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This is my 100th live post to this blog. (Hence the title)</div>
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Belgium is famous for French fries and there's a shop located between my family's apartment and mine that sells them for a decent price.</div>
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Caffeine free Coke Zero to wash down my fries</div>
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My knitting projects are going really well. I'm 85% done with my niece's blanket and will easily finish up this week. (A bit behind schedule but I didn't expect to have these health problems!)</div>
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Rory is fixed! My baby lives again!</div>
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Netflix.</div>
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I love the way I feel in my black v-neck shirts and a pair of jeans.</div>
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This morning while I was packing, KLove played some great music that I got to dance to.</div>
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Ellie is interested in Doctor Who.</div>
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Being able to get a few hours of sleep before catching the train</div>
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Hot showers</div>
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Books</div>
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Friends who are there to calm you down when you really need a week on a beach</div>
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People willing to answer ridiculous questions</div>
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When something you've been waiting for arrives</div>
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Getting a response back from jobs</div>
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My G-d loves me! (And He loves you too!)</div>
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I'll be in London less than a month from now.</div>
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The ficlet I texted Mary Beth about returning back to London together</div>
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Tea</div>
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Jaffa cakes</div>
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And I think that's it for tonight. I want to get this posted before we leave Belgium and well my alarm goes off in 7 hours to wake me up and get going.</div>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-92665976301059892013-03-19T06:03:00.001-04:002013-03-19T06:03:53.343-04:00Morning PostI am not sure why they let me in the kitchen sometimes. And by they I mean the synapses in my brain that fire and say "This is a good idea" or "This is a bad idea".<br />
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This morning, before my alarms went off, housekeeping knocked and because I was still asleep, it took me a few moments to respond and alert them to my presence. No I do not need you to clean. Of course, I couldn't go back to sleep so here I am 90 minutes later. I've caught up on most of my blogs and had a kitchen adventure.<br />
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I turned the water on for coffee (instant but what are you going to do?) and the burner on for my eggs. I nearly threw away the eggs I hadn't cracked into the (too hot) pan instead of throwing away the package from my sugar. Of course in this little kitchenette there's actually no freaking spatula so I made my scrambled eggs with some funky flat spoon thing. Then I tried at the same time to cut open my kebab/pita bread. So my pan sits on the stove cooling and getting crustier and crustier.<br />
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I haven't finished my first cup of coffee or my breakfast sandwich yet.<br />
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This is going to be a long day.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5862748815528170616.post-36701746718171760822013-03-18T12:00:00.000-04:002013-03-18T12:00:09.247-04:00Bittersweet Uncertainty<div class="MsoNormal">
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one hand, I’m excited to go back home. I’m just so tired. I love my girls and
Kathrin is amazing. I could not ask for a better host mom. (Daniel’s been gone
a lot this month and he works a looooot so though I don’t have a problem with
him, I don’t know him half as well as I know Kathrin or the girls.) And even
though I am off at the end of my day and Kathrin’s good about making sure the
girls know that I’m not responsible for them and giving me a way out if I’m
trying to write or knit or chat with people, there’s still a part of me that I
feel like I can’t turn off. I feel guilty if I don’t help out and clean up or
if I don’t play with Ellie or calm the crying baby.</div>
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<span class="text"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s
just part of being family I think. When Sami was little, I felt similarly.
Except that really was home. (I hate that sentence. Because this is home. I'm happy here and I feel welcome and loved and I'm never going to have another family like this one. But the sentiment behind that statement, I hope you understand. That this home is one I've made whereas the one with my little sister and my mom is one that was naturally created in my life without any effort on my part.) If I was sitting around reading and my mom wanted
my help, she’d yell for me. Kathrin’s too polite/generous/something for that.
She’s almost apologetic when she tells me some mornings, “Vickey, I didn’t get
to the dishwasher yet. Can you do that this morning please? It doesn’t have to
be right now. Finish your coffee first.” Yes, the woman lets me drink my coffee
before I start doing any real work. That’s not to say that she never asks for
my help when I’m “off duty”. Occasionally something happens and she asks me to
help with this or just make sure that kid doesn't climb out of the high chair
for a minute. But even so, it’s asking not, “Victoria get your butt in here and
help me with the dishes.” There’s just somehow a difference. I think knowing
that Kathrin won’t ask makes me feel guilty if I don’t do it. Because if I don’t
do it, she’ll do it all herself. And she never complains about it. Seriously,
this woman deserves a medal. (And Kathrin, if you’re reading this, I mean every
word of this. You are fantastic.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">So because there’s a
piece of me that’s on most of the time, it’s hard to kind of recover. And you
would think when I go out that then I’d recharge. But I’m such an introvert
that going out takes a different kind of energy. Yes my social meter gets
filled up but something else gets drained. There is a very fine balance within
me to keep all of my meters reading “OK”. I need to be with friends a certain
amount, I need to be alone, I need to be with the family, I need to be outside,
I need time with G-d, I need time to be creative. I need so much to be optimal.
And I don’t even know what the amounts of those things are. I just know when
they’re out of whack and I typically know how to fix them. After about ten
months of trying to fine tune all of those different things, you can imagine I’d
be worn out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The thought of having
to start over again in just two months is almost more than I can handle some
days. Which leads me to “on the other hand”. Yes, I’m excited to go home, but I
don’t want to leave. I’m going to miss the ability to walk to everything I
need. I’m going to miss having little girls throw themselves on my back for
piggy back rides. I’m going to miss “What are you watching?”. I’m going to miss
“Oh you’re coloring your Bible again? Wow that’s a lot of ‘G-d’ there.” (Noemi
knows anytime I mark my Bible in purple it’s a name of G-d.) I’m going to miss
Beck’s Green Lemon and Mezzo Mix and I swear to you the Nutella is better over
here. I’m going to miss my little room and chatting with Kathrin after the
girls go to bed. I’m going to miss “Vickey will you draw me a wizard?” There is
a lot that I’m going to miss.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhaHh9qjab7LRE6te-sQDsWaYCvPSDGEh0zcgfk0x6bit3Z21AvWMNw2J9YcxyeC2Su-5ocNuAFuryGTOXxAKqZdsq1VcpAtafRtGKtFdji22fvmabke5tFGS2Vo6hkNEbDN_htam4yM/s1600/IMG_1758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhaHh9qjab7LRE6te-sQDsWaYCvPSDGEh0zcgfk0x6bit3Z21AvWMNw2J9YcxyeC2Su-5ocNuAFuryGTOXxAKqZdsq1VcpAtafRtGKtFdji22fvmabke5tFGS2Vo6hkNEbDN_htam4yM/s400/IMG_1758.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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(Artwork: Noemi)</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">And there’s a lot I’m
unsure of in my future. I don’t know how I’m going to fit back into the family
structure. I don’t know how I’m going to fit back into American life. I don’t
know what I’m going to do for a job. I don’t know how to be in America and not
be in school come September. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I don’t
know when my love life will change or when my living situation will. I don’t
know when I’ll find my purpose in life, the job I’m meant to have, the ministry
I should be involved in. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Rochester. I don’t
know a lot of things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">As someone in one of my
Facebook groups said this week, “I know He's got it under control, but the
planning part of my brain is going crazy right now”. And that’s exactly how I
feel. I know He’s got plans for me. I know He’s got big plans, plans I could
never dream of. But I don’t know where to start! I don’t know what the next
step is. G-d’s word is a lamplight unto my feet… A lamplight. Not a floodlight.
(Thank you to one of my wonderful Londonerd TA’s for that.) </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.christians-be-aware.com/"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.christians-be-aware.com/resources/Thy-Word-is-a-Lamp.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">(<a href="http://www.christians-be-aware.com/">source</a>)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">If His word shows
me the next step, what do I know? What am I certain of? I’m certain I need to
go home. For a bit at least. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. I need to get
my license and then a car. I’d be good at event planning I think. And I’d like
to pursue that a bit more. Aaaaand that’s all I got. I also know I need to find
a church to get involved in. Both somewhere where I’m getting fed and where I’m
feeding. That feels like so little to go on. I really feel lost some days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you’ve stuck with me
that long, congratulations. Seriously I feel like you deserve a cookie. I tried
to divide this up into a couple different posts (because I’m nearing two
thousand words right now) but I think a lot of it’s too interrelated. It makes
sense how I went from one thing to another and ultimately this is my space to
write. If there comes a day when I write solely for the readers, this blog will
have become soulless and I will give it up.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01691670955728105693noreply@blogger.com0