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Blogs are so weird

Back in 2004, I started a blog.  My grandmother was a writer. Blogs seemed like a different and exciting adventure so I bit. I took a bite of online journaling.  

It wasn’t cool then.  I am certain of this.  But, as I pushed publish after every “goodbye”, or every “hello”, or every “what was I thinking” moment, every single awesome adventure in mothering, in wifing, in foster mothering, in friending, in nonprofit starting, I got more confident in who God was creating me to be.  In the beginning my faith was so strong.  I prayed over entries and I trusted the process.  Writing helped me.

I learned early on in my life that if something helps you to take it. Don’t fight it. I figured life is hard so if something MIGHT make it easier try it. Oils, chiropractor, gym membership, vegetarian cooking.....and of course blogging...... if it makes it easier than JUST SAY YES to it all. So I did. And off we went. On adventures provoked just by my heart being poured out onto the keys. 

But saying yes eventually wasn’t that smart.  My purpose was lost and some how blogging became a career.  (A fun career but still somewhere I needed to be.  That somewhere usually meant I had to pack a suitcase, make sure my roots were the appropriate color, outfit coordinated for Instagram, have to be at the airport, climb through security, sit and wait, is my plane delayed, are the boys fed at home, is my husband letting them watch scary moves???? kind of somewhere.  It was fun and often exhilarating and I did it while often getting paid at the same exact time.  But I never once in all of my time on the road or in the air truly felt it to be rewarding. Maybe a little bit but it was seldom.  I blogged for over 10 years of my life and I could not describe it as rewarding????? 

With the realization of this and the tumor on the edge of being discovered I went to my online server and deleted my sites.  All of my posts.  All of my blogs.  All of my pictures.....GONE! I was broken.  The blog wasn’t what it was anymore.  My body was hardly working.  I wrote here....the only spot I really truly have anymore that I was done blogging.  No one saw it.  Everyone had left. I thought I was saying goodbye  I meant it.  I truly thought my story was ending.   

Then in September 2017 they found the tumor. Behind my eyes, encasing glands, and growing.  Evidently I did have a story to tell????  God said yes.

Recently I have written on Facebook but I worry about the algorithms and the things I can’t control and my message being sent to someone that has no desire to see it.  Here seems safer for me to write and here it seems quieter.  It seems cleaner.  It seems more me. (Tho I am not sure at all if the geeky side is ok with any of the way this platform is designed but whatever....I release the need to control all of the things)

So here I will be.  I will write where I need to Facebook one day and here the next. Those who desire will know where to find me.  Those who want to comment can.  

But I will write for me. Seldom edited!

I write so I can process my thoughts and preserve my memories.  I will write about my highs and my lows.  I will write to my children and about them.  I will write so I can remember.  

 Openly.  

Telling my story. Because evidently it’s not finished. :) and I am ok with this.  


Ranger Up!



Instead of cleaning the kitchen let’s write about cleaning it!

I am sitting on toys and leaning against clutter.  “Stuff” overflows the arm, next to me, of the couch into the half empty Christmas bins that have been stacked there for two weeks.  The dog is snoring on the couch next to me taking up more space than I am. This is Christmas. 


The beater blade on my mixer is hardened with brown sugar.  I am sure this isn’t an ingredient for unwanted guests.  Did I mention it 11:26pm?  I know the only time this kitchen will be fulling clean is at midnight, so I will clean.  


I will clean the glue from the table left over from today’s Christmas crafts.  I will toss out the notes of the meeting that I took today that completely wasted my time.  I will finally wash every dish there is to be had.  After all of that I will mop the kitchen floor and thank God for the child that made cookies with me today....for it may be 12am but it is also Christmas. 

My Version of Heaven (Hula Hoops in Heaven)

I believe there are hula hoops in heaven.  
I believe there is a feast at every table filled with gourmet foods and liquid gold. It tastes delicious. 

Believe me, this is what I believe.

I believe that it is the perfect temperature, not too hot and not to cold.

....... where everyone wears golden spun flannel shirts tied around their waist just as an awesome fashion statement. 


I believe, that up above, the sounds of Laughter encompass your soul.  That chuckles and giggles reverberate in your heart so much that you can feel it. ........Deep. 

I believe in heaven that the type of laugher that shakes your belly and makes you roll out of your chair is an ever day thing.  

........What are you doing tomorrow at 2pm? I am going to stop, drop, and laugh. 

......I believe that when someone laughs in heaven it snows gold love notes from our loved ones. 


I believe that knees work like they are supposed to.  Hearts beat in rhythm to the G-rated rap songs playing from the clouds with a really sick beat.


....... Legs can dance in sync, even for those who previously, on earth, had two left feet. 

I believe that eyes hold no pain.  That they can see all the colors and then some. Only brighter. Only with glitter. Coated with glitter that sparkles like the top of the Freedom Buildings in the morning sunrise. Not tacky, just the perfect amount. 





I believe that vision is restored. 
I believe that infection is defeated. 
I believe that boobs point to the sky, always.

I believe in heaven, that the sun sets on the west and rises on the east, just because.  I believe that the Stars in the sky taste like peanut butter dipped in chocolate dipped in strawberry jam made by my grandmother Jeanette. “Like Racheal Ray would say “YUMO”

Pets run free, come when they are called, and they never EVER shed.  Tails always wag. 

There is no sadness
There is no tears
It sounds cliche but it’s what I believe. 

The sun doesn’t sunburn but it is also always shining. Always. 

The sun, in heaven, also plays music in surround sound. Perhaps even Christmas music for those that want it any time of the year. It can always be Christmas in heaven except 

.....without returns, exchanges, or anything with a monetary label. 

In heaven, if you want time with a loved one for Christmas? Yes

Also.....

Is today your Birthday? yes! 

 I believe another version of me, a me from the future after it’s my time to go, is there with them. In heaven time travel is possible. In heaven nobody, no where, no how is lonely, ever.

A whole version.  The future “heaven me” dances with them to music.  It is a party every day and those in heaven never dance alone.

Everyone has a friend.
Everyone has a sister.
Everyone has a brother.
No one has loneliness. 

Love. It’s all there in heaven. This is what I believe. 

It is like this in heaven. I believe it. 




Hula Hoops in heaven, you bet.