Days 99-120. I Think I Finally Have It Figured Out!

It's been 21 days since my last post. There are several reasons for it. We had family visit from Illinois, which was wonderful. I have been busy with "back to school" activities and commitments. My headaches, lately, have interfered with my mood and energy level. Sadly, I just haven't been in the mood to write.


To begin, I must say that if you have never moved, you may not be able to relate to, or even begin to understand, what I am writing about. That is not meant to offend anyone; it is just a fact. Before I moved, I wouldn't have understood; however, I think I finally have it figured out. At this point you're probably wondering, "What has she figured out?"
I believe I have finally learned the true meaning of "homesick."
I have, sort of, developed my own definition. I'll explain.


The kids were out of school this past Thursday and Friday for Rosh Hashanah. My husband took Friday off of work so that we could drive to upstate NY to Lake George. We wanted to explore the lake and go to the Great Escape Six Flags amusement park. Little did I know just how much I would learn on our little getaway!

We were about two hours from where we live in NY.  We were filling up our van with gas.  A car pulled into the pump in front of our van.  My husband looked at me and said, "Look!  A Chevy Lumina!"  My mouth dropped.  I knew exactly what he meant.  He then said, "I haven't seen one of those in four months."
Wow.  Obviously, that had never ocurred to me, but I was never so thrilled to see a Chevy Lumina.  Such a familiar car...a car I didn't even realize that I had missed, or even ever noticed, until I saw one again.

We continued to drive.  My husband and I kept recognizing things we were used to back "home."  We were recognizing things in our old comfort zone.  "Look, a Toyota Tundra!  Look, a Ford F150!"  We were seeing these pickup trucks and loving it!
Finally, we saw what brought the biggest smile to all of our faces!  I yelled, "Look!  A truck with a four-wheeler in the back!"  Awesome!  My husband said, "I feel like we're back home."

We stopped again.  There it was...a truly wonderful sight:  A young girl walked into a rest stop with her dad and she was wearing a camo ballcap.  "Look!  That girl is dressed in camo!"  It was beautiful!  It was comforting!  It was enlightening!
I was really beginning to figure a few things out in my head.  I was starting to put together some pieces of a puzzle...a "homesick" puzzle.

*Again, if you've never moved to a completely different region of the country, you are probably bored right now, or thinking I have lost my mind, but, if you have, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about!

We arrived at our hotel.  A lady there called me, "honey."  What??  Did she call me "honey?"  She used a term of endearment with me, yet she doesn't know me?  I am no longer in Westchester county!  I seriously felt like hugging her!

We went to bed that night and all of these sights and words were running through my mind.  I was somewhat confused and still trying put the pieces of the puzzle together.  I finally fell asleep.

The next morning we went to a local diner for breakfast.  We sat up at the bar.  A huge painting on the wall spoke volumes.  It wasn't frivolous. It wasn't painted from the talented hand of  a famous artist.  Still, it allowed me to continue putting the puzzle in my head together.
It said, "God is love.  1 John 4:8" 
Unbelievable.  Were we back in the midwest?  It sure did feel like it!

You see, what we have seen in our new location is total political correctness.  A scripture verse would not be hung in a restaurant.  It wouldn"t be hung anywhere!  It may offend someone who doesn't have traditional "Christian" values. 
It's all so interesting.  I have learned so much.  I have definitely learned that the way I choose to serve God is not the most popular way.  Still, I serve Him. 
It is a great responsibility and honor.

Yes, the past few weeks I have felt homesick.  But, homesick for what?
I talk to my family every single day...sometimes several times per day.  The same it true with my close friends.  We have had many visitors from home, and have more scheduled to arrive this month and next!  So, what gives??

I feel like we're adjusting.  I am really finding my way around and learning the "rules and regs" of our new location.  I am learning ways to get involved in the schools.  I am pleased, immensely, with the schools that my children attend.  The  pure adventure, fun, and outlets for knowledge that surround us thrills me. 

Well, as I said before, I believe I finally have it figured out.  The puzzle is almost complete. 
As basic, and maybe silly, as this sounds, I'm going to say it anyway.   It is my definition of "homesick."  It is the familiar, basic, and noneventful things we see every single day...the ones we don't give a second thought to because they are so commonplace, that we miss the most.  The craziest part is that we don't realize we even miss them, or what we have been longing for, until we see them agian.

A Chevy Lumina, a Toyota Tundra, a Ford F150 hauling a four-wheeler, any type of camo clothing, someone using a "term of endearment" with me, or a scripture verse painted on the wall...
Do any of you even notice these things?  I bet you don't.  I didn't either, before...

My world has changed.  Sometimes I feel like moving to NY is very similar to moving to another country.  Obviously, this wouldn't be true of every part of NY; however, living near  NYC certainly is.  Everything is fast, hurried, and blown out of proportion.  Things that are no big deal to me are made into a huge debate here.  Everything has to be voted upon.  People are very blunt.  If you are getting on their nerves, they have no problem telling you.  If you are in the grocery store, with your cart, and are taking a bit too long to decided on what brand of peanut butter you want, they have no problem saying, "What are you waiting for?  A green light?"  (I speak from personal experience!)
They call tennis shoes, sneakers.  They call sauce for pasta, gravy.  They call pop, soda.  They call pizzas, pies. 
When I took my son to school a few weeks ago, an employee of the school said to my son, "Good!  You wore your cool sneakers!  We have gym today."   I smiled and said, "In Illinois we call them tennis shoes.  It's amazing how the different states have differing terms for certain words."  He said, "Tennis shoes are for playing tennis." 
Really??  Then what are "sneakers" for??  Sneaking around?  Whatever!

I can't begin to explain to you all of the differences.  They are vast.   Those of you who have been here to visit know exactly what I'm talking about.  Establishing a new comfort zone has been the most difficult thing I have ever had to do.  It doesn't matter how much fun you're having, or how much you're learning, or the life experiences you're gaining.  You still have to have a comfort zone.  You have to allow yourself to develop one.  It can't be just inside the walls of your home.  You have to establish a comfort zone in your community.

I'm so glad we decided to take the trip to upstate NY.  I always pray and ask God to lead and guide my every move.  I ask him to light the path I am supposed to take...just as a runway is all lit up so that the airplane knows exactly where to land.  I feel our trip was an answered prayer.  I get it now. 
It's those teeny tiny insignificant things back in Illinois that I was longing for.  So, I always had this ache in my heart, but I didn't know why.  Now that I've see those things again, I understand.  I know what I have been missing.  Certain vehicles, clothes, and ways of life are what I needed to see.  I had absolutely no idea what it was until that Chevy Lumina pulled in front of us at the gas station.

Those pieces of the puzzle are put together now.  They fit so nicely.  There are still some pieces missing.  Most of those pieces are my ability to accept the new and develop a level of comfort with the new...no matter how difficult that may be.  I really believe having all of  this revealed to me over the weekend will help me do that.  I am going to strive to do this.  I'll put on the full armor of  God every day knowing that when I've done all that I feel like I can do, I will still stand like a pillar. (Ephesians 6)  I can do this.  I can become comfortable again, even if things around me look unfamiliar.

One day, in the near future, maybe my whole puzzle will be complete.  Although, do I really want the entire puzzle complete?  Probably not.   I need to leave a couple of pieces unavailable and reserved for "crazy."  We all deserve a little bit of that every now and then. :)

Days 96-98 The Power of a Simple Chicago Bears Shirt

It happened to me today; one of those events that make one sit back and reflect.
What was the event?  I was at the mall and a teenage boy passed me wearing a Chicago Bears shirt.

I literally stopped.  Right there in mid-walk, I stopped.  I qustioned my husband, "Was that boy wearing a Bears shirt?"  My husband replied, "I don't know; I didn't notice."

I noticed!  I haven't seen anyone representing any Illinois teams since we moved 98 days ago. 
As strange as it sounds, when I saw the big orange "C" on the shirt, I felt a hollow feeling.  I felt a longing.

I am adjusting to NY life.  I am certainly doing my best.  Some days it seems like we have just always lived here.  Other days, I feel like we just moved and that there should still be boxes everywhere needing to be unpacked.

I believe, for some reason, right now, I am just longing for familiarity.  I'm longing for the familiarity that surrounded me, in the same city in Illinois, for 25 years.  I know that some days my son longs for that familiarity as well.  I know that today was one of those days for him.  It's obvious to me.  As his mother, I know him almost as well as I know myself, and it hurts when I know he is struggling.

He is going to a large school.  He has no "connections."  It is up to him to meet people on his own.  It is up to him to use his best judgement as to whether someone is a good person or not.  He started soccer today.  He knew not one person on his team, and he had never met his coaches.  I watched him closely.  He did his best, and he is strong.  Still, he was having some difficulty.  I "get" it.  It breaks my heart.

I don't know what made today "that day" for us.  Who knows?
The Chicago Bears shirt...it was a welcomed sight!  We'll be going "home" for Christmas.  It will have been seven monthss since we were last there.

NY is becoming my new normal.  It really is; however, there is really something to be said for "familiarity."  It is comforting and predictable.  Sometimes a little predictability is nice!

I was praying last night.  I kept asking God to illuminate the path that I am supposed to be taking.  My husband is thriving at work.  He loves his job and is enjoys and respects his colleagues.  My daughter is the happiest I've ever seen her.  She has met the sweetest girls.  They have all been so welcoming!  She is on the volleyball team and the forensics club recruited her as well.  She has become quite the social butterfly, and every second of that just makes my heart leap with joy.  For the most part, my son is adjusting.  He is courageous.  He is such a kind-hearted person.  He is, overall, doing well.
Then...there is me.  Yes, I'm having fun.  I'm experiencing activities and opportunities that I never thought I would be able to.  I laugh a lot and I am learning a lot about myself.  I am really learning who I am and what I am capeable of.  Still, I struggle with my "role" in all of this.

Anyway, back to my prayer.  I was asking God to "illuminate my path.  Direct and guide the path I am supposed to take by bright illuminators."  I asked him to illuminate my path just as an airplane is trying to land, and the pilot looks for the illuminator lights on the ground.  They create the perfect path that the airplane is supposed to take.  I am the airplane, wandering, and God is the pilot.  He is guiding me, but I know I need to listen more closely.  Sometimes I know that he, the pilot, is turning me, the plane, one way, but I, instead, go another way.  If I am not watching closely and listening to the pilot, then how can I find the illuminated path...the perfect path that is all lit up and waiting for me to land?

Wow...the feelings that a simple Chicago Bears shirt brought up inside of me today.  Home.  I guess that's what I longed for when the boy walked by wearing that shirt.  Will Illinois always be home?  Will I consider NY "home" one day?
I guess only time will tell.

Days 86-95 MEAN GIRLS

What is a mean girl?  I mean, what's the definition of "mean girl?"  Is there one?  If so, what causes a mean girl to be "mean?" 

Many years ago I viewed the movie, "Mean Girls."  I was a high school teacher at the time, and some students were talking about it.  I thought I would watch it and try to figure the whole "mean girl" thing out.  I was horrified.  It wasn't a bit funny.  It was cruel and malicious. 

If we were all completely honest, most of us would have to admit to being tormented by a "mean girl"  in our lives.  A true "mean girl" torture is not just a one time event.  Being tormented by a mean girl lasts for some time.  It may take place for a few weeks, for a summer, for a school year, or maybe even every school year! 

Mean girls seek out their prey carefully, just as a lioness seeks out a wounded gazelle.  Who can she try to destroy and get by with it?  Who is an easy target?  Who would put up with the abuse? 

I was recently involved in two "mean girl" incidents.  One was with elementary aged girls, and the other was with teenagers. 

My sister, nephew, and best friend were here visiting us from Illinois.  One afternoon, we decided to walk the boys down to the park to play.  We sat down at the first picnic table we came to.  Across the park were three moms sitting together on a park bench talking.  They automatically began to give us the "look."  The look I'm talking about says, "What are they doing here?  Do we know them?  Do they live here?  What's their story?"  I am used to that "look" because I get it almost every time I walk down to the park.
I wanted to just get it over with and stand on top of the picnic table and scream at the top of my lungs over to them, "We're here to play.  No, you don't know us.  Yes, I do live here.  There is no "story."  We just brought two little boys to the park to release some of their energy."
Obviously, that's now how the story goes.

Our boys were running around gathering sticks and leaves and chasing each other.  Also at this playground, were six little girls.  The girls belonged to the three women who were giving us the "look."

After, literally, three minutes of our arrival, the girls began to try to get our boys in trouble.  They were running next to our boys and saying, "We won't play with you."  Our boys could have cared less.  My sister, friend and I just sat and quietly watched all of this unfold. 

Then, one little girl ran over to her mom and yelled, "Those boys are throwing sticks at us!"  Gasp!  My friend said to us, "What?  They never threw anything at those girls!"  Next, the mom looked at my son, who was busy playing and in her "mean girl" voice said, "Umm...don't throw sticks at them."  Ok...by this point, the momma bear in me was becoming quite angry. 

Everywhere our boys would go, the girls would follow and taunt them.  The girls knew we were watching them, but it didn't matter one bit.  They would follow our boys around and say, "Stay away from us.  You can't play with us.  Go home!"  I was in shock. 
I finally had to say something when I heard the other mom say to her daughter in her caddy voice, "Just stay away from them."  She said the word, "them" as if she were talking about head lice or bed bugs.

I'm thinking, "How can they stay away from our boys when they are following our boys around?"  I said, in my loud-enough-for-them-to-hear-me voice, "Boys, I know you weren't throwing sticks at those girls.  We've been watching.  Stay over here next to us, please." 
Immediately, the three mothers looked as if they had seen a ghost.  They began to whisper.  I had it figured out:  They were former mean girls who grew up to be mean women.

Yes, sadly, this situation is not unfamiliar to me.  I have been at the same park before and witnessed similar events; however, this time was different.  The last time something like this happened, I was alone.  I went home, felt defeated, and shed a few tears over it.  This time, I had my sister and best friend with me.  I had allies.  I knew they "had my back."  So, I was better able to stand up to the "mommas of the mean girls." 

Just as "mean girls" feel more powerful and wreak more havoc when they are accompanied by friends or followers, so does the person they are trying to hurt.  If their prey has a friend or two around, then she is more likely to stand up to her antagonizer(s).

Now...on to the teenagers.  Obviously, mean little girls turn into mean big girls, who ultimately turn into mean women.

My sister, friend and I boarded the train to NYC.  We found the group of seats at the end that face each other.  In other words, two or three people can sit facing another two or three people.  It's perfect for traveling in groups.  My sister and I sat in the two empty seats there, and our friend sat in the other row. 

Two teenage girls were sitting across from my sister and I, and their friend, another teenage girl, was sitting next to my sister.  I smiled at the girls and the train sped off.  Was it my imagination, or were the girls mocking my smile?  Every time I would look at them and smile, nod, or do anything at all, they would mock me!  I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.  They were laughing, whispering, and texting.  I thought, "Ok, Heather.  You're going overboard.  These girls are not being mean.  They're just having a good time together on the train."

I received a text.  It was my sister who was seated right next to me.  I opened it and it said, "These girls are making fun of us."  I began to laugh.  I thought I was going to fall out of my seat laughing.  Here we were, two grown women, and three teenage girls are making us feel insecure and inadequate.  We decided to just try to ignore them.

Oh my goodness!  They began taking pictures of us with their phones.  Every time I would look up they would snap a picture, then show each other, and then crack up laughing.  I began to feel so embarassed.  These girls were mean!  They meant business!  They were trying to belittle us, and it was working!  Finally, the seats in across the aisle opened up and my sister and I moved over there to be next to our friend and away from the mean girls!

Then, I saw them looking back and making fun of a tall blonde.  The woman, probably in her late 20's, was applying her make up on the train.  She kept stopping and looking at the teens like, "You've got to be kidding me!"  I think she was in shock, just as we had been.  They began taking pictures of her.  Tension was high.  I could see that this woman was becoming frustrated.  All of the sudden, she got out of her seat, walked the five rows up, and quietly said, "Do you B#$@&%$ have a problem?" 

Oh my!  My sister, friend and I just sat there with our mouths wide open!  Out of nowhere came a man.  He stood behind the tall blonde and said, "That's my daughter.  Leave her alone!"  The woman was trying to explain to him what was happening, and he denied their behavior and the lady finally just went and sit back down.  Oh, this really got the mean girls going.  Seriously, they had evil in their eyes.

I was steaming.  I had seen it all.  I had experienced some of it!
Why were these girls so mean?  How could they be this way to other people?  What kind of parent would allow this type of behavior? 
Is that where the whole problem lies...with the parents?
Nobody is perfect.  Any parent who thinks his or her child is perfect, or even close to it, needs to wake up.

Bullying, of any kind, should never be allowed.  This is true for boys and girls.  I am just discussing girls for a few reasons.  First, I am one.  Second, I am raising one, and third, the stories I wanted to share both involve girls.

Let me get back to the train ride for a moment.  I watched the mean girls for the rest of the train ride.  I began to remember the times I was preyed upon by mean girls.  I thought about the times my daughter, sisters, and friends were tortured by mean girls.  I watched the girls and began to feel sick to my stomach.  They were malicious.  They were seeking people out and making their victim(s) feel inadequate.  It was calculated and cruel.

It was time for their stop.  The man came walking down the aisle toward us.  I calmly said, "Are they your daughters?"  Proudly, he smiled and stated, "That one is."  I'm pretty sure he was thinking that the next words out of my mouth would be, "Well, she is the prettiest little thing I've ever seen!"  Instead, I sternly replied, "Then you need to take a parenting class, because they are very mean girls." 
He just stopped in his tracks and stared. 
I turned toward the girls.  Oh my goodness!  Their faces were red and they had "deer in headlight" eyes.  I pointed to them and said, "Yeah, you girls know exactly what I'm talking about!"
I promise you, they all three gasped, and one put her hand on her heart and said, in a high-pitched voice, "Whaaaaat?"
The four of them got off of the train, and we continued on our way.

Mean girls have to be stopped.  They are everywhere.  Television makes it seem "cool" to be mean.  There is nothing cool about it.  I personally know parents who know good and well that they are raising "mean girls," and they allow it.  They've created "mean girls" and they are scared of them. They are terrified of her wrath.
So, they continue to simply "be ok" with it. 

We should be teaching our children to reach out to others.  We have to let them know that it is not acceptable for them to purposely tear others down, or to single a person out in order to degrade her and cause her to feel inadequate.  We must tell our girls that if they see someone being treated unfairly, then they need to befriend that person. 

Jesus makes it clear that we are to love Him with all of our heart and we are to love our neighbors as ourselves.Wow!  That is so difficult.  To the "mean girl," it means you can't be mean!  Chill!  To the mean girl's prey, it means to find it in your heart to forgive the "mean girl" and to pray for her as well.

Mean girls are mean for a reason.  I'm sure every reason is different.  Maybe their mother was a mean girl (for a reason), so she if following her mother's footsteps.  Other "mean girls" may be that way simply because it is allowed.  Maybe others have been hurt or somehow been made to feel inadequate, so they are on a mission to make other girls feel the same way. 

There will probably always be "mean girls."  As for me, I am determined to never let teenage "mean girls" make me feel "small" again.  Geesh!  I still have to work on not letting the "mean girl moms" get to me.  In the meantime, I will forgive, pray, and maybe stay away from the park for awhile.  :)

Days 82-85 THANK YOU ALL!

Hurricane Irene has come and gone; she was a beast to many.  All one has to do is turn on the news to see the havoc she has wreaked and hear of the deaths she has caused.

She was my "first" hurricane.  It is terrifying to watch the news and hear the authorities and governement officials telling individuals in your area to, "hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."  We headed their instructions, and then we watched the television, closely, the path of the storm.  We prayed it would just head deep out into the ocean away from all humans, and then simply, disappear.

We listened to the reports that it was headed straight for us.  We watched as it viciously ripped through other states before us.  We had only two things we could do:  wait and pray.

Besides a wet basement, fallen limbs and closed roads all around us, we are fine.  We had no real damage to our home.  We were kept safe.  We are safe.  Tonight, I'm not going to go into details about the hurricane.  Instead, I am writing to say, "thank you."

In the days leading up to the hurricane, I began getting phone calls, texts, facebook messages and wall posts.  They all expressed a common theme.  "We love you guys.  We are praying for you all.  Keep us posted.  We're thinking of you all."

Each text, phone call, and facebook post and message meant the world to us.  We were trying our best not to be afraid, but when you have no other family around, it's easy to let fear creep in.  All of the constant communication from friends and family from Illinois and other areas gave us confidence.  We KNEW so many people were praying and beliving for us.  So many prayers were going up to the Lord Almighty for us. 

We knew we had people all over following the news and tracking Hurricane Irene just to see how close she would be coming to our area.  We even had people up throughout the night last night tracking the storm, even as we were sleeping. 

We miss our church from Illinois.  We miss it immensely.  The pastor and congregation there prayed for us this morning, and for the rest of the east coast.  When someone called and told me that, I cried.  My parent's church did the same thing.  They prayed for my family!  There is nothing more we could ask for.

Moving across the country has proven to be challenging.  There are days when it is exciting and I feel accomplished, strong and capeable.  Other days, I feel lonely and forgotten.  When I feel that way, it is like I am being tortured from within.  I wouldn't wish those feelings on anyone.  It has nothing to do with my husband or kids, or even if my day was "good" or "bad."  It is just a feeling that does its best to creep up on me every now and then.  I refer to it as the "alien on another planet" feelling. 

So, to all of you who texted me, messaged me, called me, etc...during this frightening time...I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  We all do.  We felt each and every prayer.  I knew that prayers were going up for us all over the United States because we had such peace.  It's not that we weren't afraid, or dreading the storm, but we were experiencing the peace deep within us that can only come from God.  Not only were we protected, but He calmed the raging storm in our minds and hearts regarding Irene. 

We feel loved.  We feel "thought of."  We feel cherished.  As my husband and I were sitting in the living room watching the news last night, in the middle of the night, with the winds raging outside and pounding on our home, I thought of all of you and your prayers and words of encouragement.  You all gave us strength for the storm.

Today, we are praising the Lord that the storm has passed and we are able to talk about it tonight because we are here and unharmed!

We thank our Heavenly Father for our friends and family who rode every wave of this storm with us.  What a ride it was!

Days 76-81 *Everything I learned I learned from my animals* (almost everything)

I was looking through old pictures tonight.  I stumbled upon some pictures from my childhood.  I can't help but smile when I view the photos.  What a childhood it was!

I grew up in Kentucky.  We raised rabbits and teddy bear hamsters.  Our entire backyard was full of rabbit cages.  Litters were being born at an astouding rate.  Bunnies do "do it" a lot!  The bunnies were as cute as can be.  We had solid white ones with pink eyes, brown rabbits with big brown eyes, and gorgous black and white rabbits with deep, round black eyes.  I would feed and water them, and I would spend some time with them; however, I knew not to spend too much time!  I knew that these rabbits were not my pets.  They were our food, and they provided food for many other families as well. 

When we began raising rabbits, I was young, probably about five, and I wasn't sure what to expect.  Honestly, I think I just assumed that mom and dad were being generous in the "pet department."  That idea quickly changed one morning when I looked out the kitchen window and saw my dad butchering one of the brown rabbits.  Quickly, I learned what the rabbits were for.  I learned that their purpose was not so that I could have 75 rabbits to play with.  I realized that these rabbits were food to people who would come over and purchase them.  They were food for us.  Before long, it didn't bother me anymore.  I understood and appreciated it.  I would sit in the backyard carrying on a conversation with my dad about my school day as he butchered rabbits.  It was humane, quick, and I learned a lot about life from raising rabbits.

My dad traveled as a construction worker.  He was gone a lot.  During those times, my mom and I took care of the rabbits.  That meant feeding and watering 50 or more rabbits a couple of times per day.  It didn't matter what kind of weather we were having.  Rabbits still get hungry and thirsty!  The winters were dreadful!  My mom would get me up early before school, while it was still dark outside.  We would wrap scarves around our heads, and put on hats, gloves, heavy coats, and boots as we would make our way down to the rabbit cages.  Every bowl had frozen water...which means thirsty and dehydrated bunnies.  We would keep going inside and boiling water in order to thaw out the heavy bowls.  The ice would begin to crack, and we'd get a stick and beat the rest of the ice out.  Finally, we would pour in fresh water, put pellets in their metal feeders, and return to our warm home for breakfast.
I learned about hard work and that a family is supposed to pull together to accomplish their tasks.

Several times, I remember vividly waking up from a deep sleep due to hearing what resembled children screaming.  It wasn't children.  It was our rabbits.  Wild dogs get hungry, too.  They would come in the middle of the night and attack the rabbits.  They would press their sharp teeth through the cages and it woud send our rabbits into panic.  If you have never hard rabbits "scream," it is eerie.  My mom and I would run outside yelling.   The dogs would run off, but the damage had already been done.  Some of our rabbits would be lying on their sides, because their feet had literally been eaten off.  Other rabbits were still, already dead, because the dogs had ripped out pieces of their small bodies.  It was heartbreaking.  There was only one thing to do in this situation.  The rabbits, in pain, needed to be "put down" right away.  They were hurting, and it was unfair.
I learned that life is not always fair.  Nature can be so cruel.  As vicious as it seemed, the wild dogs were not at fault.  It's just the way it is.


One day, a beautiful litter was born.  Our of all the bunnies, there was one solid white one, and it was big!  My parents allowed me to choose one as a pet.  It would be my rabbit that was stricly for fun.  I chose the big white bunny and named him Thumper.  He was one cool bunny.  He grew very large.  I walked him on a leash and taught him a few tricks.  For instance, I'd snap my fingers above his head and he would balance on his hind legs and I would give him a leaf and he would hold it in his mouth as he was balancing!  It was quite amazing. 
I learned that my parents knew that I had a true love for animals, and they were determined to give me opportunities to foster that love.  I also learned that rabbits are much smarter than we think they are!

I had ducks.  They were something else.  Creatively, I named them Wacky and Quacky.  Our backyard was surrounded by woods.  There were several large ditches deep in the woods.  I would carry Wacky and Quacky into the woods and let them swim around in the deep ditches.  Or, I would fill up a huge tin dog tub with water and let them hang out in there.  They were interesting pets.  They were also dirty!  I still can't believe my parents let me attempt to be a duck owner.  Nonetheless, they did!  I enjoyed it and took care of them to the very best of my ability.
I learned that my parents trusted me.  They were willing to let me take chances.  Ducks were fun, cute, and filthy. 

We were raising rabbits, and that was successful.  I enjoyed my ducks.  So, I decided it was time for me to raise an animal all on my own.  I chose teddy bear hamsters.  They were small, furry, and I could fit lots of cages in my bedroom.  Keep in mind that we did not own a television. We didn't have video games.  We had to be creative, and our parents allowed us these opportunities. 
My room began to fill with cages.  I had several females and a couple of males.  I would breed these hamsters and they would create these adorable jelly-bean like babies.  They had no hair.  If I accidentally touched the small baby, the mother would eat it.  My mom helped me with the cage cleaning.  I'm sure she dreaded it, but she did help me with it.  I began selling my baby teddy bear hamsters to a local pet shop.
One afternoon, I took a batch of weaned hamsters to the pet shop.  Usually, the owner woud take them from me, pay me $0.25 per hamster, and I'd be on my way; however, the afternoon with my dad was different.  The owner paid me for my little babies, and walked away with them.  I followed him.  He took them to a back room, and literally tossed them in a ten gallon aquarium FULL of other hamsters.  The hamsters were three and four deep!  My babies were just lost in the masses!  I believe they were going to be used for snake food.
I stood in disbelief and cried.  There was nothing I could do but walk away.  He paid for them and they were no longer mine anyway.
I learned that things are not always as though they appear.  They were my baby teddy bear hamsters, my responsibility, and it was my "hamster business."  I should have asked more questions and scoped out the pet shop better.  I also learned that sometimes we just have to move on.  There is nothing we can do.  We have to suck it up and keep moving.

We also had an enormous orange cat, again, with a very creative name:  Tiger.  My dad always despised cats.  One sunny afternoon, a scrawny, half-dead looking kitten approached.  I was instantly in love.  I knew he needed us, or else he'd die.  I also knew that my dad HATED cats.  There was nothing he liked about them.  I went to him and just begged.  I pleaded my case.  He said, "Yes, you can keep him, but he's not coming in the house."  We took the scrawny cat home and fattened him up.  It started to get cold.
"Dad, can he please come in for a little while?" I asked.
"For awhile."  he said.
Within six months, my dad had quite a buddy.  Dad woud get home from work and it was obvious how excited he was to see his pal, Tiger.  Dad and I would go fishing and I'd use a net and catch baby bluegill, bass, and tiny catfish.  We decided to start an aquarium of lake fish.  We would feed them pieces of worms and insects.  That was an amazing project for a kid!  Tiger would balance on top of the ten gallon aquarium and put his giant paw into the water and flop our fish right out onto the floor. 
Tiger was a wonderful asset to our family for many years.
I learned that parents, so often, put the love of their children before themselves.  I learned that things that start out ugly, skrawny, and unloved, can have that all turned around if someone is willing to love them.  This is true for people as well.

My one true love was Nicky.  I rode home from elementary school every day with a boy named Shawn's mom.   One afternoon, she picked us up from school and there were three puppies in the back of her station wagon.  One puppy was black and white and covered with wirey hair. She had a pink and black nose.  Could it get any cuter?  Her hair almost completely covered her big brown eyes. Shawn's mother was taking me home and then taking the puppies to the pet shelter.  I had to have that black and white puppy!  She would make my little farm complete.
I took the puppy out of the car and headed up to my front door.  My mom came out and, at first, shook her head "no."  I showed her this precious pooch and she said, "Go out to the backyard.  Your dad is out there.  Show him the puppy and look up to him with your puppy dog eyes and say, "Please, daddy."
That's what I did.  Dad picked up the puppy by the scruff of her neck.  He held her up and looked her over really well. 
"I guess we'll keep her.  She looks like a fine dog."
Looking back now, I know what a gift she was for me.  Intuitively, dad knew that.  He knew just by looking at her that we would make an awesome pair.
I named her Nicky.  My middle name is Nicole, so, I named her after me!
For years, we were a match made in heaven.  She was that childhood dog that one never, ever forgets.
I learned that sometimes, even if we're not thrilled to give in to a request to our kids, just do it anyway, within reason.  I learned about the love of a dog and what it means to a kid.  I learned about unconditional love and that everything and everybody, for the most part, deserves a second chance.  I was Nicky's second chance.  She made me a very happy little girl.

When I was ten, my dad got a more permanant job in Illinois.  The job meant that we would all be together as a family...my parents, two sister and I; however, we would be moving into an apartment in an unfamiliar area.  We knew not one single person in our new location.  So, ultimately, it meant that my "farming" days were over.  I had to find new homes for all of my loves.  I was crushed.  My sadness was overwhelming and I hurt all over.  Even so, I knew it must be done.  Knowing that my family would all be together made it worth it...as painful as it was, I knew it was the right thing to do.
I learned that family is everything.  Pets are extremely important, too; however, a family sticks together, even in the most difficult times.  I learned that parents, as well as children, ache.  When they see their children hurt, they hurt even more. 

Dad handled all of the rabbits.  I'm not sure where they all went; however, Thumper was my responsibility.  I asked my mom's dad if he would be willing to take Thumper.  He agreed.  He lived in the country.  Thumper lived there with him for several years.  He had complete freedom.  There was a wooden ladder leading into his cage, and he could enter and exit as he pleased.  Eventually, he was just gone.  He was never to be seen again.

We found homes for all of the teddy bear hamsters.

Our fat orange cat, Tiger, went to a family that we knew pretty well.  The wife had been one of my sister's teacher.  Tiger was a wonderful pet to that family for many years.  They fell in love with him and his antics, just as we had.  About three years after we moved, my dad sit us all down and said that he had something to tell us.  I remember his words exactly. 
He said, "A member of our family has died."  My mom, sisters and I just stared at him wide-eyed and scared.  He told us that Tiger had lived a great life with his new family, but he was hit by a car and he died instantly.  All five of us sit there and cried.  It had been three years, and even so, we all cried.  I believe we weren't just crying due to Tiger's death.  We were crying because we had been through a lot.  We picked up, left our extended family, left our precious animals, and moved, so that we could all be together as a family, with dad at home with us.  A precious piece of our past was gone, and it was heartbreaing.

We drove my ducks, Wacky and Quacky out to a farm.  There was a big pond and other animals roaming around.  I kept seeing this big dog running freely.  Right before we left the farm I distinctly remember saying, "I hope that dog doesn't hurt one of my ducks."  Well, he enjoyed not one duck, but both of them.

Last, but certainly not least, was Nicky.  I had to find her a home.  I loved her so much.  My dad's friend told us that his parents had a dog named Nicky that had recently died of old age.  We asked if they were interested, and they were.  My mom and I went out and bought Nicky a new pink collar and leash so that she would look beautiful when we handed her over to her new owners.  I remember the drive as if it were yesterday.  I had Nicky's leash and we got out of the car.  We walked up to the lady.  As I began to hand over the leash, I began sobbing uncontrollably and just ran back to the car.  I never looked back.  I think I cried for days. 
About a year later, I had a dream that something was wrong with Nicky and I pleaded with my mom to call her owner.  Sure enough, Nicky had been hit by a car and lost one of her legs.  She was managing, though.  She ended up living out her last years with them.  They would send me pictures of my girl, and I still have them. 

What did I learn from all of that?  Life is hard, but it is also FABULOUS!  I'm sure you've heard the quote, "It's better to have loved and lost, then to never have loved at all."  How true that is!
As much as we would love to change things...some things just can't be changed.  We have to accept certain things, and then move on. 
I learned that kids can grow up with no television, or name brand clothes, or video games, and still thrive!
I learned that sometimes, the things we go through in life that are the most difficult, make us stronger, smarter, and more sensitive to others.
I learned that family is everything.  Families must stick together, work together, laugh together, and even cry together. 
I learned that children are capeable of work.  They need to know that hard work is important.  It will not hurt them.  It will make them strong and capeable members of society.
Some things in life are just simply unfair.  It's just that simple.
I certainly learned the value of a dollar. 

On a lighter not, I learned about the breeding habits of rabbits and hamsters.  I learned that when rabbits are mating, the male begins to stomp so hard that the noise can be heard from a great distance!  I learned that, unfortunatley, sometimes animal mommy's can be more nurturing than human mommys.  I can easily tell you every internal organ of a rabbit, show you how to butcher them, skin them, and fry them. 
I learned how it feels, as a young girl, to get home and have a wirey-haired black and white mutt be so happy to see you that she couldn't contain herself!  The fact that I was home, was all she needed.

I learned that my parents thought I was pretty special to let me learn all of these great things.  I wouldn't trade any of it for anything.


**Ten years ago, we took our daughter to an animal shelter.  She picked out a skrawny orange kitten.  Out of all the names in the world, she named him, Tiger!  It was time for us to move to New York.  The vet worried about a cat Tiger's age traveling such a distance.  So...time to find a home for another cat that we loved so dearly...one named Tiger!  Graciously, my parents said, "We'll take Tiger."  It was music to my ears.  Even if they weren't consciously thinking of it, I believe, in their hearts, they remember very well the pain we all felt when we moved from Kentucky 25 years ago, and had to give our very own Tiger away. 
So, now, they are caring for my daughter's cat, Tiger.  They are spoiling him rotten, and he is driving them crazy, but they love him, and that's all I need to know!

Days 74-75 Happy Anniversary to the Greatest Man On Earth

I am using my blog today to celebrate my marriage to the greatest man on earth.  This Saturday, August 20, we will have been married for 17 years. 
What an amazing journey we have taken together!  How blessed we are to have found each other in the hallways of Stephen Decatur High School!  It had nothing to do with luck or coincidence; my parents began praying for my future spouse when I was just a small child, and God answered their prayers.

I started a new school my sophomore year of high school.  I went from a small private school to a large public school.  I was overwhelmed and a nervous wreck.  I always enjoyed history class because the teacher was so personable.  There was a boy in my class that, I could tell, found me attractive.  There was no way he could have "liked" me, because we hadn't met, but he definitely stared at me a lot.  It was obvious to the teacher as well.  She liked to have us work in groups, and she would always smile as she was selecting the groups as she made sure we were in the same group.  I had a boyfriend at the time, so I wasn't interested, but this boy in history class certainly began to grow on me. 

He told me, yearas later, that he would stand back and watch as I walked down the hall.  He can even remember certain outfits that I wore!  Honestly, when he tells me these stories, I just can't stop smiling.  They're priceless.  He said, "One day you were walking down the hall.  I was standing with a friend and we were watching you.  I told my friend that I was going to marry you someday."  Priceless!  At that point, I don't even think we had spoken two words to each other! 

We became friends.  We enjoyed each other's comany immensely.  We wanted to spend every waking moment together!  We both loved adventure and to "walk on the wild side" a little too much. 

Even as friends, he would mention another girl, or hang out with another girl, and I could literally feel my blood boil!  Why?  He wasn't even my boyfriend but, still, I felt like he was mine!  He was the exact same way.  One day, junior year, I rode home from school with another boy.  It was no big deal...just a ride home from school.  Well, it was a big deal to B (my future husband).  He came over a few minutes after the boy dropped me off.  He asked me why I rode home with him and I replied, "Why not?"
He threw my science book on top of the roof!  We still laugh about this story.

Finally, B and I decided we had played enough games.  We were going to "go out."  In other words, we were going to let the world know that we were officially boyfriend/girlfriend.  Life was grand.  We were two teenagers in love.  Then, a slight problem...

He had told his dad that he would move to Auburn, IL his senior year to play basketball for their team.  The time came for him to move, and it was brutal.  We didn't have cell phones, texting, facebook, or any of those luxuries.  So, after junior year, he moved.  He came home as often as he could, but we missed each other terribly.  Summertime was ending.  We were preparing to enter our senior year of high school.  It was a Sunday afternoon, and he was with me and had gone to church with my family that morning.  His school was starting the very next day.  We were both feeling down. 

Out of nowhere he said, "I can't do this."
I said, "What do you mean?  You are all registered to start school tomorrow!"
He replied, "I can't.  I want to move back.  I'm going to go to school here.  I need to go talk to my mom I'll call you in a little while."

He left, and I was pacing, nervous, and confused.  What in the world was he planning to do?

Well, that night, he was back at my house!  He moved home with his mom!  Oh, happy day!  We were thrilled that we would be starting our senior year together!

School began, and as each day progressed, our love grew.  I remember one night sitting with B at my parent's house.  We told them that we planned to get married.  They said, "That's fine...after college."  Well, that wouldn't be a problem!  We were already seniors.  We'd go to the same college, get our degrees, get married, and the rest would be history.  That was our "plan" anyway.

In November of our senior year, I began to feel sick.  I was exhausted and would feel sick every morning as I tried to get ready for school.  I would get sick again before lunch.  By the time I got home from school, all I wanted to do was to go to bed.  Finally, it hit me.  Could I be pregnant?
I took a test one Saturday afternoon while Brock was at basketball practice.  He played varsity basketball at our high school and he was amazing...a natural talent.  I loved watching him play ball, and I still do.
Anyway, the test confirmed my greatest fears.  I was pregant.
We were 17 and scared, but we already loved the precious baby growing inside of me.  Brock assured me that everything would be alright, as he always does, and I believed him, as I always do.

It was tough.  We told our families and our friends.  We continued to go to school and concentrate on our grades and extracurriculars.  It became almost impossible.  Brock was still on the basketball team.  I would climb to the top of the bleachers, with my growing belly sticking out for the world to see.  The glares and stares were hard to accept.  Finally, B recieved a bad grade in calculus.  His teacher said that he had even been sleeping in class.  He was kicked off of the basketball team because of his grade.  Our stress level was beginning to rise at an alarming rate.

We decided that we wanted to get married right away.  Brock actually had a scholarship to play basketball at a college outside of our city.  He knew it wouldn't work out.  He knew he would need to go to the community college, so that we could remain close to home and our parents.  We needed their guidance. So, he did not accept it.   Our baby was due in July.  It was important for me to remain on my parent's insurance plan for the baby's birth.  Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to pay for it all.  So, since the baby was due in July, we chose August to get married.  August 20 sounded like a splendid wedding date.  So, we began making preparations for the our baby's arrival and our wedding day.

Christmas was approaching, which meant a much needed break from school.  I was looking very pregnant.  I grew fast!  I began to dread school because of the whispers, taunts, finger pointing and double-mindedness.  I decided it would be best for me to finish up my senior year at the vocational center.  I was only 1/2 credit short from graduating.  It would just be easier.  So, I registered and started right ater Christmas break ended.

Finally, graduation from high school was upon us!  A friend told me that at school that day they had their heads measured for their graduation caps.  It hit me that I would not be graduating on stage, but I would just go sit in the audience and see B walk across the stage.  After school, he came over and I asked him about the graduation information they had received. 
He said, "I don't know.  I'm not graduating on stage." 
"B, just go ahead and do it.  You might as well."  I said.
He replied, "If you're not, then neither am I."

It was just one more example of B being completely selfless.  On graduation night, we went and had a nice dinner out with our parents.  We both had our high school diplomas.  It was May of 1994 and we were high school grauduates!

(My blog is turning into a novel, so I'm going to try to be brief.)

Yes, we were high school graduates with no money and a baby on the way. 
Our precious baby was born on July 1.  She was simply out-of-this-world unbelievably perfect and we fell deeply in love with her right away. 
Now...to pay for this new little bundle!  I called the hospital and asked them if I could set up a payment plan. 
The secretary said, "Sure, how much are you planning to pay each month?"
Hesitantly, I replied, "Ten dollars."
To our surprise, she agreed to it!  Perfect!

I continued to live at home with my parents after the baby was born, and B slept there on the couch so that he could help in the middle of the night.  He started working full-time at a construction site.  My dad got him the job.  We needed to try to save as much money as possible before the wedding. 

August 20, 1994 was a day to remember.  It's a day I will always cherish.  Brock and I were married!  He became my husband, I became his wife, and we had a beautiful seven-week-old daughter.  We were a family!  Whether we were rich or poor, having good times or bad, or sick or healthy...we promised it was forever.

With very little money, our honeymoon consisted of driving an hour away to Bloomington, IL.  We stayed in a hotel there Saturday night and Sunday night.  We left at 6AM on Monday morning because B had his very first college class at the community college and it started at 8AM.
The honeymoon was over!

We were living with B's mom.  She lived alone and had a three bedroom home, so it was nice to have an affordable (free) and loving place to live.  B was in college full-time and working odd jobs.  I was staying home with our baby.  It was working out; however, we felt we needed to try to find our own place.  We applied for government assisted apartments, which means the rent is based on one's income.  Finally, we got a letter stating that we had an apartment!  So, seven months after we got married, we had our own place.  We were thrilled!  Everything was falling into place!

For the next four years we lived in our goverment subsidized apartment.  At times, Brock would work full-time and attend school part-time, and then he would go back to school full-time and work part-time.  He worked so hard to provide for us.  He worked in the tire department at Sams Club, he tutored kids in math and he drove a fork lift for awhile.  If we would be short on money he would sell his baseball cards, or whatever else we could come up with just to make a few extra bucks.  I babysat kids in our apartment.  Some days, there would be our daughter plus five or six others running around our small apartment. 
Every day we struggled, every day we were tired, and every day we felt hopeless, was just one more step closer to reaching our goals.

Finally, after four years in the apartment, we knew that we needed to do whatever it took to get Brock through school.  He needed about one more year of attending full-time and working only part-time in order to get his college degree.  We moved back in with Brock's mom for about six months so that we could save every penny.  Brock worked, went to school, and finally received an excellent internship with the company that he currently works for.  It was a PAID internship!  We bagan looking for houses to buy.  On our budget, we knew it would'nt be easy, but we were determined.

Graduation day was approaching, Brock found a job, and we had a house!  Yes, the location of the house was probably considered "the ghetto," but it was still our house!  My husband was a college graduate!  He had so much going against him, but he fought through it all.  He would not take "no" for an answer. 
I saw all of the nights he stayed up the entire night to study for a huge test because he had been working so many hours that he had not had time to study.  I saw the times he applied for jobs only to be turned down.  I saw every time he didn't know where our next dollar was going to come from.  I always saw determination in his eyes.  He never gave up.  He was mighty.

I began taking classes at the community college.  I took our daughter with me to the preschool they offered there.  She loved it.  During my breaks from classes, I would go get her out of her class and we would have lunch together in the cafeteria or just walk around the campus.  They were some of the sweetest times.  We would share a coke from the machine, and we were two happy girls.

When she started kindergarten, I had achieved my associate in arts degree and wanted to go on to receive my bachelor's degree in education.  My husband was working full-time at his job and helping me achieve my goals now.  He would tutor me in my math classes (I am HORRIBLE in math).  He would stay up late with me so that I could study.  I hate staying up alone.  I took day and evening classes, so often times he would be at home alone at night with our daughter as I pursued my degree.  It was the longest two years!  I wondered if I'd ever get my degree!  So often, I just felt like giving up.
B would say, "You've got this!  You can do this!"  He was right!

I graduated in May of 2002 with a bachelor's degree in secondary education and acquired a job right after graduation in a high school in our city.  We were both employed!  We were both college graduates!

I can't begin to describe the amount of tears, determination, and frustration those first seven years consisted of.  Looking back now, though, we view those years of living in our government subsidized apartment as some of our best.  We laughed, cried, learned, grew, and began raising our amazing daughter there.  It was filled with so much love.

We were happy the day we were able to move from the "ghetto" to a more regular neighborhood!  Our hard work was paying off.  We gave God all the glory for it.  He always provided for us.  He was always there for us.  He saw every tear, every smile, every frustrated sigh...He was always taking care of us.  Also, much credit must be given to our families.  They were our "rocks."  They cheered for us!  They loved us through each and every difficult moment and triumphant event!

B and I were, and still are, each other's biggest fans.  He is my cheerleader and I am his.  We were thrilled in the beginning of 2003 when we decided to expand our family to four!  We finally had the money and resources to do it!  We had even paid off the birth of our daughter!  After years of paying $10 per month to the hospital, you can imagine our pride and delight when we were able to just write a check for the balance! 

We were on a mission:  a baby mission!  I was still teaching and our daughter was in fourth grade.  After a couple of months of "trying," I became pregnant!  We were so thrilled!  I took several tests.  It was awesome!  I felt sick, my breasts hurt so badly...YES!  All of the signs were there!  I was getting up every morning at 5AM to run before I would get ready to go to work.  One morning, a couple of months into my pregnancy, I began my run and I thought to myself, "How strange, my boobs don't hurt."  It was an eerie feeling.  I went to work, and about halfway throught the day, I starting bleeding...heavily.  I knew I was losing the baby.  I left work and the doctor tested my pregnancy hormones and confirmed my fear. 

B, our daughter and I were devastated.  My daughter cried and cried.  That night we went to Moncials Pizza and ate ourselves sick and then got Ben and Jerry's ice cream and ate all of it. 

The doctor soon gave the go ahead to continue trying to have a baby.  Months passed.  I was underweight from stress and exercising all of the time.  The holidays approached.  We enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas and all of the food that accompanied them.  I put on about seven pounds, and voila...I became pregnant again!  I believe my body was healthy and ready to conceive.  Nine months later, we became parents for the second time to a son.  He was born in September of 2004.  My fabulous husband was a daddy again. 
He is, without a doubt, the world's greatest dad.  (Yes, those t-shirts were designed around him...)

I decided to quit my teaching job and stay at home full-time.  My husband is so understanding and considerate.  He knew how badly I wanted to stay home with our new baby; however, it was going to be a pay cut!  We were going from two salaries back down to one.  We decided that we would just cut back in any way possible.  We had survived on nothing, so we could definitely make it work on just his salary alone. 

We've spent the past six years raising our children, watching them grow, and loving them through life.  B continued working and I continued staying home...and working!  We always put God first.  We pray about the steps we make and the paths we take. 

Brock was asked to take the job in NY in October of 2010.  We decided to pray about it.  My first instinct was to literally scream, "NO!"  My family, friends, home, and life was in Illinois. 
The more I prayed, the more convinced I was that we were supposed to go.  My husband, the love of my life, had been given this amazing opportunity, and he deserved the chance to take it.  He has always been there for me.  Whether anxiety or depression, physical sickness, or simply daily struggles, he is right next to me, pushing me along, cheering for me, and loving me.

In our 17 years of marriage, I've been fat, skinny, had short hair, long hair, and gone from a cute little teenager to a mother of two in her mid thirties.  His love for me has only grown. 
The teenage boy that I fell so madly in love with is now a successful, Godly man.  He is brilliant.  He's the most loving father.  He plays his husband role to perfection, and I'm not always easy to please!  He listens to me, comforts me, and only wants the best for me.  He has my back in any situation.  He is my best friend and the most amazing lover.  Really, is there a better combination?  I don't think so!

From sharing my ice cream cake on my 16th birthday, to this weekend when we'll be celebrating our anniversary with some delicious desserts, the last 17 years of my life have been blessed beyond measure. 
The boy of my dreams is now the man of my dreams, and he always will be.

Happy 17th Anniversary, B!  You really are my better half.

Days 70-73 No More Meltdowns...

Recently, I blogged about "attitude."   How one chooses to reacts to a situation is key.  It is all about attitude.  Our attitude is one of the few things that we can actually control. 
This is something I have to work on every single day.  My dad used to say, "Heather, you need an attitude adjustment!"  He was usually right.

I've actually had to say that to myself several times throughout the past few days. 

My husband came home from work on Friday and I was having a meltdown.  You may wonder what exactly a meltdown is.  Well, it's when I am crying so hard that one can't really even understand what I am saying as I try to talk through the tears.  He kept trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  He wanted to know why I was crying.  He was trying to fix it.

A couple of things had happened that day, and neither warranted a meltdown.  I left the house only two times on Friday, and both times I had individuals treating me very rudely.  They treated me in a way that made me want to look them in the eye and say, "How dare you?  I am struggling here.  Why on earth would you treat me this way when you don't even know me?" 

In Illinois, this behavior would not have bothered me.  I would have either laughed it off, or fought back.  Then, it would have quickly been forgotten. 
Why the difference?
I've said this before, but I have to say it again:  I am completely out of my comfort zone!  Everything is still unfamiliar.  I have lived here for two months.  I lived in Illinois for 25 years.  Obviously, I am more comfortable in Illinois.  Sometimes I just long for everything familiar.  I ache for it. 

I become very attached to "things."  For example, I was born in Kentucky and lived there until I was ten-years-old.  Even now, 25 years later, every time we visit Kentucky I have to drive past our old house.  I drive by really slowly and try to look in the windows...creepy, huh?  I loved that house!  I remember the way it smelled, the games we played there, and the pets I cared for there.  That house just brings me joy.  I smile when I drive by.  It's comforting.  That's why I love driving by my childhood home during each visit to Kentucky.

Our house in Illinois recently sold.  It's no longer my home.  For the most part, I am thrilled that our house sold!  We won't have to pay the mortgage there anymore, or the power bill, or lawn care, etc...Praise the Lord!  We have been praying for the house to sell since before our move, and now it has!  So, what is my problem with it?  Well, selfishly, I fell in love with that house as well.  We worked so hard to make that house a home.  We picked out the perfect color for the walls, had so many laughs and also had some tears there.  We celebrated birthdays, births, graduations, holidays and many milestones in that home.  We had our family and friends over for food and fun in that house. 
Now, it doesn't belong to us anymore. 
Of course, when we go to Illinois in December, I will drive past that house, slowly, and smile.  It will feel familiar, comfortable and warm.  I look forward to it.

I've been told that it takes a year to adjust to a big move.  Some days, I feel like I have lived here for years.  Other days, I feel like an alien on a strange planet.  I daydream about my hometown.  I seriously crave everything that was familiar to me.  I look through photo albums and I'll see pictures of the house that just sold, and I just stare at the picture as if it were another lifetime. 

I need to change my attitude, and when I begin to have these feelings, I have to be brave and calm.  I believe it is completely normal to experience the feelings and emotions that I am experiencing.  It is okay to miss my old house, my old comfort zone, and everything familiar that Illinois offered me.  I can't let it get to the meltdown point, though.  I need to get to the point where I let myself be sad about what "was," and then move on and be happy about what "is."  I am blessed and I know that. 
I am just still getting used to all of the "new."  I've never been great at change, but I am sure learning now!

On a lighter note:  About a month or so ago, I blogged regarding going to the grocery store and never seeing a single person that I know.  I love people, so not knowing anyone is very frustrating and, at times, lonley.  Today was different!
I was coming out of the grocery store with a cart full of groceries.  I was wearing a denim dress.  The dress had quarter length sleeves with a V neck, which led to five buttons.  I looked over to my right, and I thought, "That man looks so familiar." He was looking at me the same way.  As soon as it became a little uncomfortable, he said, "Hey!"  He started walking over to me and I was right! I knew him! It was the pastor of the very first church we visited.  He has a son that is my son's age, and they became quick friends.  The boys have played together a few times since we've moved here. 
We had a nice conversation surrounding the start of school and getting our boys together for another play date.  It was such a nice conversation and I smiled and as I turned away I said, "OK, I'll call you soon and we'll set up a day for the boys to play!"  I began walking to the van.  I happened to look down, and to my horror I realized that the top button on my dress was unbuttoned.  Remember, the top button is already placed well under the V neck of the dress, therefore, my bra was completely exposed.  Seriously, it looked like I was trying to put on a show...a very small show, but still a show!  OMGoodness!  I got in my van, looked in the mirror, and my face was so red.  I could have cried. 
Instead, I laughed and called my husband.  He said, "Oh, Heather!"  Then, he laughed hysterically. 

I can't rush myself.  I have to take my time and adjust.  Total adjustment will happen; I have no doubt.  Until then, I will really try to give myself permission to be sad for awhile when I miss the familiar people, places and things from back home.  On the other hand, I will give myself the attitude adjustment I need when my "missing home" turns into a pity party.

And...I'll be sure to keep my top button buttoned.