To Cater or Not to Cater

Initially it looked like the break from getting back on track with a career wouldn’t last very long. A close family member, who knew of my passion for cooking and all things culinary, threw me the opportunity to cater a small event for her. I was immediately elated and excited at the chance to do something I loved and get paid for it. I threw myself into planning for it and although it was a small affair I wanted it to be memorable and I wanted to have fun. The menu I came up with was just that. There would be a few healthy items, even one raw (living food) dessert but I was intent on making everything delicious! It was all going well until the day before the event. I was going to make small Japanese stuffed eggplant but every supermarket in Denver was out of them and most of the purveyors said they would be receiving a shipment within the next day or two. That would be one or two days too late for me. Okay, I had all the other ingredients for this dish so there was no option to switch gears and come up with another dish altogether. So I buckled down and went with Chinese eggplant and decided to stuff them then cut them into smaller, more bite-sized pieces to serve. Not my ideal plan but I thought it could work, and who would know what they were missing anyway? Still, I was really disappointed. When I get my mind fixed on something I have a hard time switching gears. At least one crisis was averted.

Until the next day that is. While making the mini brioche rolls, which I had added fontina and figs to, it was clear those “star” ingredients couldn’t really be detected once baked. Seriously?!? With only hours until the event I wasn’t sure what to do. Instantly, a thought came to mind. I begged my Dad to run to the store to buy me some mascarpone and more figs which he very kindly did – thank Goodness for good roommates!!! I quickly whipped up those two ingredients into a fig cheese spread and taste tested it on the brioche rolls. Success!!! It was to-die-for. Another crisis averted – things are going well so far. This must be a sign, right?

After working for over 2 days straight, with little sleep (which I learned is the very nature of catering on a one person crew) I packed everything up and headed over to the event site. I was told there would be a wine tasting and the thought occurred to me, “I can finally drink on the job and not get fired!”. That put a huge smile on my face as I looked forward to relaxing over a glass of wine once everything was set up. Some of the dishes needed to be finished on site so I wasn’t completely out of the woods yet.

I arrived, set up and began to finish the final preparations. I put the stuffed eggplant in the oven, set out the spring rolls and dipping sauce, arranged the raw macaroons on platters and set the brioche rolls out with the spread. I turned my attention to pan frying the polenta triangles and the first one I set in completely stuck to the pan. “Ok”, I thought, “just turn up the heat”. I confidently added more to the pan once the heat had increased but to my horror, as I stand prepping this in front of guests starting to stream in, they all stick! What???? Was it my oil? Was it the pan? Was it the heat source? Oh my gosh, this is not okay. Panic. Panic – check to see if anyone is looking and detecting my panic. Coast is clear. Ok, regroup….alright, try the polenta with the haystack of beef without frying it and see how it tastes. Of course, I am thinking this is an epic fail and that it will not be good and I will end up losing money on this job because I can’t quite charge them for a dish I can’t serve. I decide to discreetly do my taste test turned away from the “audience” that is gathering around the kitchen island munching on food. And, I can’t believe it, it is really good! Wow, unbelievable, I have somehow averted another crisis. Again, this must be a sign.

Not so fast, there’s still eggplant in the oven which I take out thinking it should have had plenty of time to cook thoroughly yet the bottom of the eggplant is still woody and raw tasting – not really what I was going for. Another momentary panic as I realize the event has been going now for at least half an hour and I still haven’t put out all the food. Boy, what a novice am I. But, okay, I’m learning fast how to regroup and stay calm under fire so I just put them back in the oven for another half hour or so. When they came out and I sliced and plated them they were a hit. Here we go again, I felt distinctly that God was literally helping me at every turn. I was so honored at the kudos the guests were giving me about the food. I was beaming with pride and joy for a job well done (at least they couldn’t tell I was sweating the bullet until then). As the event wound down guests were still noshing on my little goodies and asking for recipes, wondering what was in the brioche spread that made it so delectable, etc. It was a wonderful moment. I felt accomplished at something I truly have passion for. And, oh, the wine was fantastic. I’m quite sure it helped calm my nerves during the tense moments. The only down side was that I was absolutely exhausted and still had to clean up, pack up and leave the place spotless. Whew – what a job. But, probably the most rewarding job I had ever engaged in, for profit that is.

I swear it didn't all look so beige in person!!!

That same week another close friend called me with two catering referrals. I kept thinking to myself, “Am I starting a catering business?”. I wasn’t planning to and certainly hadn’t pursued doing so. It was just falling into my lap. Only a little over a month had passed since I arrived in Denver and it seemed as if God was sending me some clear signals that my career would be in catering. This all energized me immensely. Yet, there were some hesitations lingering in the back of my mind. I had contemplated catering as a profession years ago and had come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be my first career choice for a few reasons. Mainly because it would be a lot of work just leading up to an event – like, working 18+ hours a day for a few days depending on how big the event would be. Then there was the aspect of burn out….which I didn’t want to happen since I so enjoyed treating my friends and family to my culinary experiments. It would really be a shame if I lost my passion for cooking altogether due to a high stress, intense catering business. Then there was the looming thought of finding my purpose. The purpose God had fashioned me for. I struggled with the thought that God would create me to prepare food for people for a living – where was the “do-gooder” aspect of that? If I looked at it a few different ways I could squeeze a few ideas out but I wasn’t really sold on any of them. So, for the next few weeks I wrestled with this crazy start of a new career and the doubt that it was what I should really be doing – or wanted to do.

Nevertheless I had fun creating quotes and fantasizing about the two other events. They seemed to be just about locked and loaded. Until everything fell apart, that is. Suddenly, I lost one bid then the other bid was reduced to a level that I would not make any money on. So, this is the wake-up call. I knew it was too good to be true. The last nail in the coffin was a big one. I stumbled upon a website that eluded to the law that dictates any food for sale must be prepared in a commercial kitchen. More specifically, it was illegal to prepare food for sale in a home kitchen. In spite of the fact that I wasn’t 100% committed to catering as my ultimate purpose, this was a blow to me. To my ego and to my faith. As soon as I learned of this I walked down the hall to my bedroom and heard God saying, “I didn’t say it was going to be easy”. I was really down about this. If not catering, then what? It all seemed to be going so well. What a cruel joke. What was the meaning in all of this?

It took a few weeks but it became clear. There were a few things at work. The first was the amazing desire of my sweet friends and family to see me succeed in something they knew I could do, and do very well. It made me feel so honored that they thought so highly of me and my skills to have thrown those jobs my way. Second, it reaffirmed my prior decision that catering is not my passion. Food is a passion, but not necessarily catering of food. Good distinction to make for oneself. And, lastly, I realized, God has gifted us all with so many talents and he lets us choose how we want to use those talents, or if we want to use them, I suppose. But, for me, my soul and my gut had been building up to identify my highest calling, the one that will bring God the ultimate glory through me. And, it was clear that catering, although a great profession, was not the one for me.

Second “experiment” failed. Back to the drawing board.

27 Hour Trek to New Life

Are you like me? When you set off for a road trip you drive as fast as you can minimizing the time spent at any stops, which are coordinated with precision to be only when a gas fill-up is required and we drain our dogs and selves and are back on the road. Once I’m on the road I just want to be at my destination. I’ve driven the 1,000 mile trek between California and Denver more times than I can count. It usually takes 14 hours, give or take. Sometimes, when I’m lucky, my sister is with me, as was the case this time. She thought she would already have left for Korea but her departure was hung up on account of paperwork delays – courtesy of our government, of course! I was fortunate to be having her as a companion on my trip back where she would stay until she got the clearance to head to the other side of the world. On this same stretch of highways my sister and I had gotten into a few pickles which prolonged our trips from time to time. Those delays are so frustrating and unnerving to me. If my map estimates a 14 hour drive then I don’t want it to take a minute longer. Once we were held up by holiday traffic between Las Vegas and Orange County for an extra 4 hours, something Californians are all too familiar with! On another journey we got stuck on I-70 for 2 hours while an accident just a few hundred yards in front of us blocked all through traffic. Weather is usually the cause for these pesky delays so I was relieved to see there was virtually no weather reported for this trip back home.

What I had forgotten was these moving trucks can only be driven 55 mph when a car is in tow. UGH! The only other time my sis and I tried this was years earlier when I helped move her out to Los Angeles. We took the exact sized moving truck and towed her small SUV. No dogs that time, just two sisters and a long stretch of road ahead. I still feel badly to this very day for what I did on that trip. Although my sister had warned me not to drive over the top speed for towing, I risked it and pushed the limits by 15-20 mph. My selfish desires to get off the road quickly resulted in some of my sister’s breakables being compromised. Well, let’s be honest…destroyed. I remember there being huge bumps in the highway that we would bound over and we could feel the truck jumping. What was I thinking? Sorry Sis.

This time I wouldn’t make that mistake again. We had just a few of hers and my valuables but they were the kind you kept because they were the most important and we had pared down to just heirlooms and very special trinkets. My Great Grandmother’s china, some of my sister’s first pottery pieces she ever made and things of the like. I “cautiously” drove 55-65 mph, because let’s face it, I can’t watch everyone else passing us at breakneck speeds while we motor along at a brisk 55. If you haven’t driven 55 on a freeway recently, try it. You’ll go crazy in under 5 minutes, let alone for 1,000 miles!!! But I felt badly that of course the time I decide to go a more safe speed is when my belongings are in the truck. Sorry Sis, again, this selfishness doesn’t shake off that easily.

This slow pace extended our day trip so long that by the time we got within 300 miles of home it was past 1:00am and we just couldn’t continue on without stopping for a rest. So, we got a room in Grand Junction that would allow dogs (thank goodness for iPhones to search while en route!) and grabbed 5 hours of sleep and were back on the road. It killed me that we didn’t arrive home until the next day around noon. There was no snow to hold us back but we had one of our longest treks ever on that stretch.

Arriving in Denver was surreal. It signified so much for me. The start of a new beginning. The chance to detox from all the grief as well as my own negative behaviors I had experienced over the last 16 years in the corporate world. Yet arriving brought on a blankness. What on earth would I be doing? As I mentioned earlier, I had a rough sketch of a plan but wasn’t really sure what I would ultimately do or pursue. This can be both liberating and frightening at the same time. Thankfully, I didn’t have to think about it seriously for a little while. I would allow myself to get caught up in the magic of my forthcoming nephew’s birth and the greatness of the holidays. I vowed to not get serious about my future until the New Year. In the meantime, I would focus on my “recovery” and enjoying my family!

Exactly two weeks after I arrived home my nephew was born. This would be our families’ first grandbaby on both sides and one of the reasons I felt a tugging to move back to Colorado. So, this monumental event was most of what occupied me during my first month back. His arrival was such a special moment for our whole family. When we all went in to meet him soon after his delivery it was like a paparazzi red carpet moment, everyone vying for a good spot to see the little guy. There were so many cameras and flashes going off. Lots and lots of smiles and coos – it was sublime! Our families’ next generation had just begun.

the night my nephew was born

adorable little man

I can't believe how little he is (and how big my head is!)!!

I couldn't resist giving him his first faux hawk - he liked it

the first of many Thanksgivings with our nephew

he is such an angel

And, in the back of my mind was the thought I had been pondering for months. Would it be possible for me to be a sort of nanny for my nephew? I had realized how significant it would be to pour constant love into his life every day if he were under my care. In my mind I had this grand scheme that I thought just might work out. I have always wanted children of my own but my path had not led me there yet. Everyone in my family grew up saying I’d be the first one to get married and start a family. I thought so too. Yet, here I was in my mid 30′s having not arrived at that chapter in my life. Admittedly any chance to be around a youngster would bring me closer to the natural feeling of maternal love and devotion I craved for so long. I was babysitting regularly starting at age 9 (scary!!). I even worked at a children’s academy for 3 years during high school and would go onto caring for others’ children when they went on weekend trips or during school breaks. When I was young there was nothing I was more passionate about, except maybe boys.

So, when my brother and sister-in-law had not chosen a nanny or daycare yet I thought this might be a perfect situation. They needed someone to care for him. I would eventually need a small source of income. My nephew would need someone to care for him, and a relative provides such a great opportunity and comfortability for everyone. It just might benefit us all. I wondered if this might be God’s temporary plan for me while he works out the details of what I would be doing long term.

Initially to my surprise, that arrangement did not work out. It just didn’t seem like the right thing and didn’t come to fruition, in spite of our attempt. I can’t explain it any other way but I soon realized it was not what God had planned for me. And, I realized anyone caring for my nephew would give him the love I would have so he wouldn’t go shortchanged. It was hard at first to understand why I had given so much thought to something that made so much sense to me that God didn’t allow. It reminded me that God’s ways are not our ways. He sees everything. We see with such a limited scope, with a scummy filter at that. I quickly saw that he must have something else planned for both me and my family, something that would be even better for us all than my initial idea. Although this signified one more of my ideas I had to give up to God so he could replace it with his better plan. A plan that was still in progress and, oh, a plan I still really had not been clued into fully. This was one of the many challenges in my faith through this transition. A door I thought was opening was abruptly closed but no other door was opening. I guess for now I’ll be hanging out and waiting, seeking his best. That doesn’t sound very fun – just being honest. Although the thought of being off the hook to do any real “work” did sound like such a needed break. Could I believe that a break was actually part of God’s plan? Not for now – I felt too guilty without having a plan for something purposeful I should be spending my days on. So, how long would this break last?

Leaving It All Behind

A few days after hosting Madison at our house I went in for my last day of work and will never forget it. It was an unusual Southern California October day – it was over 90 degrees and gorgeously sunny that day. One thing about me is I do best with sunshiny, warm climates so this day put so much hope and warmth in my heart especially knowing this would be the last time I would be tied to a corporate job I found no fulfillment in. Well, in actuality, it was much more than that. I felt that I had died inside through this career I had. It had eaten up the best parts of me and left me with a smoldering, decaying self that I didn’t like. No matter how hard I tried I could not get back to the effervescent person I once was, filled with life and hope, generosity and joy. Instead I was this beaten down, tired and lifeless person trying desperately to fake it in front of my peers, bosses, clients, etc. I know certain people were onto me but what could I do? I was trying my hardest, and it really was so hard. Many mornings before work I would pray for God to help me through the day, to help me to be a shining example of him. But, so many days that did not occur.

On this day, thank God, I would not need to pray that prayer. Actually it was somewhat sad leaving all my compadres behind – the people whom I had come to truly care for and enjoyed getting to know. Even bigger than that was the relief as I drove away that day, after handing over everything I felt like I had ever worked on. It was surreal. In fact, it didn’t really even fully set in at that moment. I remember telling myself, “I’m free now” but I felt a bit numb to the whole thing. That week had held more emotions than any other week. As I tried to take the 15 minute drive home and reflect on how grateful I was and relieved I was, the predominant thought in my mind was about getting to my real home – back to Colorado, and just leaving this all behind, in a shadow of dust.

Once back home I was staring at a house full of stuff I had to sort, organize, decide what to do with, find new owners for, close out, change information on. The usual moving stuff, just a bit different than packing it all up for myself but packing it up for others. Other people I didn’t even know yet. Realizing I had about two weeks to square everything away started to concern me. At least I wouldn’t be working and could focus on this big task. And, that is what I started working on until sometime the next day when fear gripped me as I fully swallowed what I had just set into motion in my life. I had no job. I would have no home of my own. I would have barely any belongings. I was leaving my favorite place – Orange County. I didn’t know what would happen with my life. I didn’t have any answers. I didn’t have any plans. And, I momentarily panicked.

Doubt. What a crushing emotion it can be. My mind raced through everything that had been building up to this over the last two years. Then it especially settled on the heartache of what I had gone through in my work and with the loss of Westley. There was just so much pain. How could I doubt that getting away from it was the right thing to do? And, then there were the many confirmations that I had made the right decision. In my journaling I would sometimes write these confirmations down, because they would always surprise and bless me. In looking back through some of them, it became clear again that I was on the right path – finally. Then why would I feel these differing emotions, back and forth between faith and trust and then toward fear and doubt. I would like to just stay on one side – the faith and trust side preferably. If I know I’m doing the best thing for me, the thing that God is leading me to, then why would I be questioning.

I was reminded of the many passages in a little devotional book I had been reading for the last number of months, given to me by a dear Christian associate at work. It’s entitled “Jesus Calling” by Sarah Young and so much of it focuses on how dependent we are on God for his peace, his presence and the reassurance we need to move ahead in difficult times. If we were always so certain of everything then what would lead us to spend time with God in the first place? So, then he must let us become needy for him, so we will draw closer to him and let him fill us with the needs of the day. I made a mental note to remember this in the coming months because I was sure this wasn’t the last time fear and doubt would be knocking at my door.

My largest task would be finding suitable homes for my possessions. At first I didn’t know how to even go about tackling this so I waited a few days before doing anything and thought about it, prayed about it. One night a thought struck me – I’m sure from God. I texted my housekeeper, who sadly would be losing the job of cleaning my home once I moved, and that saddened me. I knew she and her husband and two children had been struggling for quite some time. He had lost one of his jobs, and she had been losing cleaning clients since the economy had started suffering. I asked her if there was anything she was in need of and told her I was going to be getting rid of some of my stuff. She responded instantly and we made plans for her to come over a few days later. When she visited I was astonished as she told me a story about the furniture I had agreed to give her. She said her favorite room in my house was the guest room and that every time she went in to clean it she would hope and pray that one day maybe I would sell her this beautiful furniture for a reasonable price. But then she would realize that would probably never happen. I couldn’t believe the story and just filled up with joy to know she had had her heart set on some bedroom furniture of mine. She had never even complimented it – she was keeping a close secret in her heart. One that God would answer for her through me. I was so humbled and full of joy. So this is what it feels like to let God live through oneself? I should do this more often!!!

Well, I ended up finding single moms, a family fresh from Vietnam with no furniture and others a bit “closer to home” that I felt I should give my belongings to. Moving day was a bit backwards. Instead of loading my stuff into my moving van, it was all being loaded into other people’s trucks and moving vans. But, not once that day did I feel any remorse for watching any of my beautiful furniture and furnishings I’d carefully collected over 15 years go off to take up residence with others. Just watching my housekeeper and her large family load everything into their 3 cars and trucks filled my heart. Even their small children were helping by carrying the small lamps and pillows. The smiles on their faces were unforgettable. It was more than Christmas to them – this was epic. I can’t imagine the looks on their neighbors’ faces as they pulled up with truckload after truckload of loot. I smiled at the thought.

And, then one more surprising gift to me from God…a very good friend of mine, who happens to be an incredible single Mom, said she would take anything off my hands that no one had spoken for. The only piece of furniture I would be a bit sad to leave behind would be my chaise lounge. The one I would sit on to do my daily devotionals, watch movies, snuggle with my pups, and have conversations with my sister late into the night over a glass of wine. There was so much history in this, my favorite chair. And, although everyone would always comment on what a great piece it was and friends would vie for it when they came for visits, for its all comforting qualities, no one had spoken for it. Late that moving night I asked my good friend if I could come over and spend my last moments in town with her and her daughter. I sat in my chaise lounge, now in her living room, and had a moment of joy that God had set it up so I could continue to enjoy this chair long after I move. See, I planned to come back often for visits and even my friend’s two year old daughter would refer to the chaise lounge as “Anna’s chair” – she couldn’t pronounce Joanna – and she wouldn’t let her mom sit in it. With a glass of wine, in my favorite chair, and with my closest friend in California I said to her, “There is absolutely no other place on this planet I would rather be on my last night in California than here with you and your daughter”. I felt such peace and the feeling of being truly blessed. God had answered prayers I hadn’t even spoken but they were his gifts to me that he knew I wanted in my heart. They might seem little to you, but sometimes it’s the littlest of things that means the most to us.  Especially when it proves that the God of this universe cares about the smallest things we care about.

The next morning as my sister, Winston and Madison and I drove away I finally felt the relief and “lightness” I had been wanting to feel. Of course I was sad to be leaving my favorite place but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was heading into God’s true will for me – whatever it may turn out to be. Colorado or bust. And my heart said a prayer…“Thank you God for everything you gave to me in California, the wonderful blessings and even those things that felt like curses. I am grateful to all you’ve orchestrated in my life, for it has brought me to this place I am now. You have used it all”.

A Prayer Answered with a Miracle

As that day slowly crept on my emotions came in ebbs and flows – mainly each time I would realize that I would never see Westley again, or when a friend would call. Let’s just say I cried more that day than any other day in my life. As soon as I would dry my tears some memory would re-ignite the fire of my wounds and the tears would burst out again. As my sister and I recounted how blessed we were to have had Westley in our lives I said another prayer, outloud: “Lord, I can’t do this – the pain is just too much. You’ve allowed the most special thing to be taken from me. Please help my pain and send me someone/something with the same sweet spirit Westley had. Please, I can’t live without it in my life.” I remember thinking I knew God would answer that prayer, but it might be years before this person/thing enters my life and reminds me of Westley. Just having the hope that I would experience that kind of sweet love again helped numb the pain a little bit.

I was so blessed to have received countless calls from friends and family when they saw the news of Westley’s passing on Facebook where I had typed up a makeshift obituary a few hours afterward. I was so moved by the immense compassion and understanding my friends poured out to me. But there was one person I knew I had to personally tell about this tragedy. Westley’s breeder. I couldn’t bring myself to call her so I wrote her an email. I knew she would want to know as we had kept in touch from time to time when I sent her my wacky Christmas eCards with pictures and stories of the dogs and the occasional picture of Westley doing something cute. I knew it would break her heart but as the person responsible for facilitating bringing Westley into this world, I knew she needed to know, and I wanted her to know even though it would be hard for her to hear.

I received a response back very soon after I sent the email and it broke my heart (again) to hear her pain through her words. She was devastated, like me. She invited me to come see Westley’s Mother, Madison in hopes it would help my healing. I didn’t even recall she had Westley’s Mother, so I was immediately receptive to the idea of seeing another dog with such characteristics to remind me of Wes and make me somehow feel that he lives on, albeit through another dog.

Sitting on her couch a day later I was so struck by how much Westley had taken on so much of Madison’s behaviors and looks. It was amazing and we were all in tears. As odd as it sounds, it did make me feel a little better. I did feel Wes was living on through Madison. But it also made me so sad that Wes was gone and I’d never see his adorable antics again. As my sister and I sat there and chatted with the breeder and cuddled with all the dogs, the breeder could tell I was hurting so much and I could tell she shared in my pain.

At some point she said I should take Madison. WHAT?!?!? I was so stunned I didn’t really react. I’ve never known of anyone to give away a dog they obviously loved so much. So, I glossed over the comment and felt guilty even considering taking someone’s beloved pup. But after minutes more she stated it again. I couldn’t understand this. Literally couldn’t wrap my head around it. Who would give up their dog? Was she just in so much pain seeing me in immense pain that she felt somehow responsible to help heal the loss?

I feel like she brought it up at least 3 or 4 times and I finally had to react to it although I couldn’t think of anything to say that would seem like a ”normal” response to such a crazy proposition. Only guilt washed over me at the thought of taking her dog away from her. But at the same time there was a juxtaposition of feelings and I longed to take Madison and experience the little pup who gave Westley his life everyday going forward. What am I? A dog stealer? How selfish that I would be even contemplating taking her up on her offer. Was she just being nice in my time of emotional turmoil? Was she truly authentic in her offer? How could I tell? It was causing me much stress because I wanted to say “YES!!!” but didn’t feel like I would be doing the right thing by her.

She explained that she thought it might be the best thing for Madison, because she’s the least dominant of all the other dogs and gets a bit pushed around by them. She has always felt badly that Madison was always the last one to get the love and attention due to the overzealous behavior of the others. She wondered aloud if Madison wouldn’t be better off with just the one other dog (Winston) so she could get the attention she deserved. I couldn’t help but think in the back of my mind, “Lord, are you answering my prayer already by forcing this poor woman to give me her dog? How cruel and wonderful all at the same time. Could this be?”.

I wouldn’t accept that possibility at first – I just felt too badly for the breeder to experience a great loss just because of my loss. We agreed I could take Madison on a trial basis for a few weeks. Basically until just before I moved to Colorado. I would come back the next day to pick her up with all her puppy belongings – treats, food, etc. But still I wouldn’t accept that she could actually become mine. A defense mechanism just in case the breeder couldn’t go through with it. Driving with my sister to dinner that night I felt God impressing me very clearly to compensate the breeder with a specific sum of money if she were to go through with gifting this amazing pup to me. Even knowing I had quit my job and wasn’t going to be employed for quite some time I knew I would honor God’s prompting, there would be no other way. If God wanted me to have this dog, he would provide financially – it’s all his anyway.

You can imagine the indebted feeling that overwhelmed me when I came to pick up Madison. There was a tentativeness in the air – I don’t think either of us felt like this was the end of the situation. And, for the next few days I felt such a mix of feelings as I tried to help Madison acquaint herself to our home, Winston, me and my sister. Madison was clearly struggling with the transition. She had spent over 7 years with her one and only family and it was so hard to watch her desperately wanting to be with her real family. I thought so many times that I wasn’t sure she could actually adjust, ever. And, my heart was very pure (for once in my life)…I didn’t want to force anything. If Madison was meant to be under my care, God would work it out. And, if not, I would not hesitate giving her back in an instant. She was not mine and I couldn’t possess her.

The breeder came to visit a few times to see how Madison was doing. Each time Madison exploded with excitement to see her. It was so cute but made me feel so badly that I was keeping her from someone she loved so much. And, I wasn’t sure she could ever feel that way for me. The tears would inevitably flow – it was emotional and I wanted to be sure to share how fully capable I would be to give her back over, no matter what. She just had to say the word – I would completely allow her to go back on her initial thoughts. And, I wouldn’t fault her either. But she stood firm. Each time saying she really thought it would be the right thing for Madison. I kept feeling so much awe for her, that she could allow herself to be so selfless for another person she doesn’t even know that well. How could her heart be so moved?

It prompted me to tell her about my prayer for God to send me someone with Wes’s sweet spirit. After sharing it with her she said she felt goosebumps and although she wasn’t a very spiritual person she believed this could be it. Even on moving day, the breeder came over and I gave her one more opportunity to take Madison back. With all sincerity, I had prepared myself in case she changed her mind. But, she didn’t waiver. She cried and said she knew this was the right thing. I promised her I would make it up to her and assured her we would be in touch regularly and if she ever visited Denver, we would get together for a little reunion. She seemed really pleased, although so saddened at her last few moments with Madison for a potentially long time.

As the breeder left that day, I was thinking (and finally acknowledged) God answered my prayer with a total miracle. There is no explanation for how he moved the heart of someone for my benefit – at their loss no less. The only way I could be free of the guilt was to release this back to God as his gift to me that he wanted so badly to give me that he moved heaven and earth to give it to me (ok, slight exaggeration but that’s what it felt like to me). And, to commit my gift back, aside from the financial component, would be my prayers to the breeder and her family from now until the end of my time on this earth. I will pray blessings over them each time I think of them and hope God will reward them greatly for their sacrifice. The next day I mailed them a card with my heartfelt and complete thanks along with a check. Parting with money never felt so good.

And, God reminded me that I would still be driving back to Colorado with two pups in tow. More tears, this time tears of joy.

Madison's first day with us in California

Madison wondering where her real family is

Our first family photo with Madison and Me - judging by the teeth, I don't think she was ready for this commitment!

Madison begins to adjust

Madison crawls under blankets just like Wes!!!

Madison snuggles during devotionals right where Westley used to

Holding Madison & Winston while they sleep on our long haul to Colorado in the moving truck

Madison gets to Colorado and immediately snuggles in her "bed"

Madison loves snow!!!

Dressed up for Christmas!

I love sitting with my new Mommy - look, I'm under the blanket (again!)

Madison holds hands with new mommy while sleeping - total cuddler just like my Boo Boo

A Test of Faith & Trust

It wasn’t until I had run through the living room and the kitchen, to let Winston down on the back patio so I could tend to Westley, that I noticed something was very very wrong with my Boo Boo. I turned around with him still in my arm and began to notice drops of blood on my sweatpants, on my hand, on the kitchen floor, on the living room floor. Everywhere I looked there was blood. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do but I forced myself to look at little Westley. Only maybe one minute had passed since he was outside barking but his little body felt completely lifeless. I couldn’t understand what had happened, so fast, out of my control.

My mind started to allow me to hear sounds and see everything, whereas for the first number of seconds everything was in slow motion and there was silence, although I knew the sounds were just drowned out by my shock. The first thing I remember hearing was my dear friend making moaning sounds signifying her horror. She had seen what I hadn’t and I think she knew before I did that Westley would not be coming back to us.

All I could bring myself to do was bend down with Westley in my hands, in the middle of my kitchen, to look to see what I could do to fix this tragic situation. But, as soon as I looked at his sweet body, I knew he was gone. All of his injuries were facing downward, out of my sight, as I held him. The side of his body I could see was perfectly spotless, no blood, not a single wound. That was a gift from God I would later realize.

My emotion welled up like a tsunami and I lost it. I cried and screamed for at least 10 minutes holding him there. I couldn’t let him go. I kept telling him to come back to me. My sweet Boo Boo. You can’t leave. I love you Boo. I love you so much. Please come back to me. The emotion was so raw, and my core was rocked by knowing I had to force myself to accept what had happened minutes ago. For a moment, a thought crossed my mind that God is all powerful. He is capable of anything. Should I pray for him to raise Westley from the dead – cause him to just get up as if nothing had happened. But I reasoned, why would God do such a thing for a dog? Clearly my faith was weak and I didn’t believe God would honor such a prayer, so that prayer stayed in my heart, locked up, never to be spoken.

Instead, I heard my mind telling me I had to deal with this now. I couldn’t hold Westley all day and cry over him. There were people who were regularly coming to view the home as potential new tenants and there was blood everywhere. The task to clean it all up seemed like the worst blow of the whole tragedy. Not only would I lose my baby but I had to clear away all the signs of the ordeal immediately. I was so broken.

Thankfully my friend had some level of composure and took care of getting the Animal Care unit to our house to take Westley. Later I would regret not having cut off a lock of his hair to save as I would have nothing from him as a momento. For a few weeks I refused to clean up two remaining tiny blood spots – one on a vase and another on the baby gate I used to keep the dogs in the kitchen – because they were the only physical elements I had left of Westley.

My sister came home about 45 minutes after the incident and we just held each other and cried and cried and cried. Our hearts were so broken. All three of us then set out on a three hour journey to erase the traces of our loss by cleaning up the blood in the carpets, on the doors, wherever it had landed. Somehow it all came clean but I remember feeling like a guilty murderer – as if I had killed someone in my own home and felt such shame trying to eliminate the evidence. I also felt immensely bad for my friend, who did not come here for this. Our time together would be stolen from us, along with Westley.

Somehow in the midst of the range of emotions and tears I felt God nudging me. At first I couldn’t believe that after making the sacrifices and giving my life completely to him that he would take my most prized possession. It just seemed so cruel. Yet he reminded me it’s not him who steals, kills and destroys. It is the devil. And, it became clear to me what this was all about. This was Satan’s last ditch effort to get me to renege on my vow to God, because he knew, apart from taking away a family member, this would be the biggest blow that would hit me where it counts and might cause me to stumble in my faith. The enemy doesn’t want us giving everything to God because that threatens him and his goal of keeping everyone from God. He’s no dummy, he knows if we submit ourselves fully to God people’s lives will be changed, people will be saved and grow closer to God. This was his full assault on me.

It didn’t work. But, it left me more bruised than I’d ever been in my life. I had never lost someone (something) this close to me. Non-dog owners can’t really relate to this, but as a single woman with no children, these dogs were a main source of joy in my life. I honestly wasn’t sure how I would cope with his loss. At one point, I prayed outloud through my tears, “God I am so broken. I can’t deal with this. I miss my Boo Boo with my whole soul. I have to know that you are here with me. That you are going to help me through this. I can’t do this alone. I don’t even know if I can really do this. Show me that you are here with me.”

Less than 15 minutes later I looked out the front window where it all happened and saw a falcon sitting on the bench right in front of where Westley died. Immediately I knew God sent this falcon as an answer to my prayer. This falcon was watching over us, in the middle of a suburban neighborhood where all the homes are stacked close together. Falcons just don’t hang out in these environments. Not only was he there but he stayed for at least 15 minutes. The amount of comfort this brought to me was overwhelming. Another direct answer from God to me. The God of this universe cares about my lovely dog and my broken heart.

As my sister and I tried to cope during the rest of that day we realized Westley left a greater legacy than {sadly} many humans leave when we depart. We recounted how Westley had love that he gave to anyone and everyone. He would run up to a perfect stranger, wagging his whole hiney, kissing them like they were a long lost love. It became clear, Westley was truly a representation of God’s love for mankind. He freely gave his love to everyone, never holding back, always happy to see anyone, and always pleased with us no matter what dirty deed we did that day or how we pissed someone off at work or how badly we looked that day or how defeated we felt. Westley left a true Christian legacy. We prayed that day that we could live our lives in such a way to leave the same legacy in our lives. I’m still praying that prayer, and I never thought I would catch myself wanting to be like a dog. God will use anything and everything to show off his mercy, majesty and grace.

I will never forget the details of that fateful day. I happened to be wearing my favorite sweatsuit, which had blood all up and down the legs. Long after the house was cleaned up I couldn’t allow myself to take off that sweatsuit to wash it. As friends came over to help us through the hurt, I wore Westley on my clothing so I could feel close to him somehow. I’m glad every time I put that sweatsuit on I have a reminder of my sweet baby Boo. I’m finding myself wearing it alot in my unemployment!

At the end of the day I knew I had to go on, with only the memory of Westley, and the hope he was running around in “the west meadow” (meaning of his name) in heaven and that I’d be seeing him again one day when I get to heaven when he runs up to me to give me one of his famous hugs. In the meantime, I will tackle this new journey with even more gusto than I started out with. Take that Satan!

Sacrifice & Tragedy

Within a few weeks after returning from my fateful Denver trip, I had notified my company of my resignation and started making arrangements for my big move home. Inspired by my own recent dramatic decisions, I pondered during one of my weekend devotionals that God is always doing something around us, something meaningful in this world. I also realized how I was rarely taking part in what God was doing. I was compelled to appeal to God about what he was currently working on. I prayed, “God, you are always doing something, always working around us on something important and meaningful. Lord, please tell me something today that I can do to participate in whatever it is you are doing. I don’t care what it is. Even if I don’t want to hear it. Tell me what you want to tell me today about how I can be a part of what it is you are doing”. I was going to sit in my big chaise lounge, snuggling with my two pups (Winston & Westley) until I heard what God had to tell me.

A few minutes passed and I hadn’t heard anything. I started writing out prayers in my journal and about 15 minutes later I heard a quick and solid response. ‘Give all of your belongings away’. What? Was this just something I came up with that I thought God would likely say to me? Definitely not, this was never anything I would come up with on my own volition. I had spent 16 years collecting beautiful and expensive furniture and furnishings. I never imagined giving it all away. I was too selfish for that thought to ever cross my mind. Immediately I knew this was God’s answer to my petition. His peace filled me and I realized I have no use for this stuff in Denver. My original plan was to transport it all to Denver (at a hefty fee) then store it (at a hefty fee) while it does nothing except collect dust for God-only-knows-how-long. {pun intended} It donned on me that there were people who needed my things far more than I did. People who were praying, “Dear Lord, please, we need a couch, a bed, etc…”.

I marveled that God can move one’s heart and melt a lifetime of selfishness instantaneously. I was so grateful God had answered my prayer. I had accepted this sacrifice in my heart. Now I just had to find those who had a far greater need for my belongings than I. The anticipation of driving a small moving truck to Colorado with my few remaining belongings and the two most important possessions I would have left….my two pups, warmed my heart. I would be leaving everything else behind.

I remember when I got my first yorkie, Winston. I was living alone in Colorado and also working from home - soon I realized I had far too much time by myself. The only solution was to get a dog, since I’m a horrible roommate. I did my research and got a small yorkie and instantly fell in love. The situation worked perfectly since I was there constantly and could train him. Plus he never had to spend much time alone since I wasn’t gone much. My plan worked. Winston fulfilled a companionship I needed and helped me to focus on something other than myself which helped my mental well-being tremendously.

A few years later, life for Winston would change dramatically. I moved back to California in 2007 and had to go back to working in an office once again. I would be gone for 10+ hours a day and felt so sad leaving Winston in his kennel all day only to take him out for a few hours each night before putting him back in at bedtime. A few months of this and it was just killing me. I knew I had to pursue a different solution. I wasn’t ready for another dog; I just wanted to find someone who could watch Winston a few days a week so he wouldn’t be caged up all the time. I posted an online ad and got some interesting responses. One came from a breeder who sent me a picture of her 6 month old yorkie she hadn’t found a home for. She stated she realized this wasn’t my intent, but that perhaps getting Winston a friend would be a potential solution. Tempting fate against my decisions that another dog was not an option, I couldn’t help myself from going to see the yorkie. My checkbook did not come along for the trip and I was not prepared to be bringing a dog home.

Upon walking into the breeder’s home I was a bit overwhelmed with 6+ dogs all running around, playing and showing off. They were all small dogs of a few breeds and they pointed out which one was Joey. I remember thinking, “he’s not very cute”. I couldn’t really see his face. He had all his baby black hair still and his top hair was pulled up into a little turquoise barrett. He seemed playful but a bit more reserved than the other dogs. After a while he jumped up onto the couch and began sniffing me. I picked him up and he went straight to my eyelashes to give them a sniffy kiss. After a few minutes he settled in with me like a baby – belly up. I looked down after a while and noticed he had fallen asleep. That was it. I was hooked. It’s over. This little angel had crawled up into my lap and somehow into my heart after only 45 minutes. I remember thinking, of all these dogs, it wasn’t like he knew I was there to see him, but he’s the one that landed in my lap. It was meant to be.

Contrary to my plan, Joey came home with me and when I set him down he and Winston began playing immediately. Another sign I had made the right decision. Within the next day my sister helped me rename him Westley. Initially I had thought Westley was for Winston, and it did work out that way – they became fast best friends. But, more than anything Westley became my little love bug. I had been experiencing some challenges in life, both at work and personally. I had just broken off a long term relationship and since I’d only been back in California for 10 months, and my sister lived in LA, I hadn’t had enough time to build new friendships and relationships and felt lonely as a result. Westley truly became a little angel that God gave to me as a direct gift. He gave me so much love and filled a gap that I so needed at the time. Many many times I prayed to God thanking him for Westley. I knew God used Westley as a manifestation of his own love for me. Although God loves me infinitely more than Westley was capable of, this representation worked. I felt completely loved.

Westley was the opposite of Winston personality-wise. Westley had to be on my lap, snuggling with me for hours. Every morning I would pick him up to take him outside and he would literally give me a hug by resting his head on my shoulder. He would gaze into my eyes for minutes at a time. I always felt as if he was telling me how much he loved and cared for me. He was so sincere – the love I felt was so real. I responded with immense automatic love for my little Boo Boo. In any moment where I was down or hurting, lonely or depressed, my little snuggle bug would always be right by my side, many times turning my tears into smiles. God used him in a magnificent way in my life. I would pray from time to time that God wouldn’t allow any harm to him because I couldn’t imagine losing him prematurely. Take Winston, just don’t take Westley. Just kidding, kind of. I guess I had a premonition that something so wonderful couldn’t last all that long.

In the midst of my preparations to move, I learned my good friend was going to be in town from Taiwan before I left. This could be my last chance to see her for a few years so I took the opportunity. We planned for her to come over for breakfast. I was so looking forward to her visit that when she arrived at the door I gave her a huge hug and was completely unaware that my dogs had run out the front door, until I heard them barking from outside. I quickly looked around my friend to see two Rottweilers outside in the courtyard. I had seen these dogs many times before. And, I always felt an eerie sense when I saw them being walked by two small Asian ladies who were both much smaller than their respective Rotts they walked. It just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. I suppose this sense was a foreshadowing of the terror that would befall me.

I was gripped with fear as I saw my dogs outside unleashed with these Rotts. I was trying to comprehend what was happening and I was frozen with fear. In an instant I saw Winston a few feet in front of one dog, barking at him. I glanced over in time to see Westley advancing toward the other dog and jumping up a few times barking in its face. Within an instant the Rott bent down slightly and bit Westley. My body jerked into action and I ran and grabbed Winston in my right hand and then Westley in my left hand. I was completely unaware of the blood shooting from my little Boo as I worked insanely to get them inside my home safe away from these Rottweilers. As I ran back in I remember thinking, “we can make this all better”. A pipe dream, I would quickly realize. That moment would create the most devastation I would experience thus far in my life. To be continued…

PICTURES:

My beautiful Boo Boo, after he crawled underneath the blanket on the chaise lounge. He is so gorgeous, those big black eyes. I love him with all my soul and miss him even more.

Westley, gazing into my eyes, telling me that he loves me.

Westley forcing a snuggle on Winston on our favorite chaise lounge, where we snuggled quite often and had our daily devotionals.

Curve Balls = Accelerated Plans

As I began to live in this state of giving all of me to God some passions began to emerge and existing ones took on deeper roots than before. One such passion started out as a complete nuisance and headache. My sister had agreed to move in with me a few years earlier and we both love to cook. I thought ‘how fun it will be to cook with her and have a little family’ (after all, I’d been living alone for over 10 years, so I was ecstatic to have my sister around to share everything with). Very quickly my sister scolded me for purchasing ingredients that she was either allergic to or couldn’t eat due to food sensitivities. I knew she was allergic to soy, MSG, potatoes, and a few other foods, but I didn’t know I was supposed to be aware of the multiple forms of MSG found as other names on the ingredient labels. Autolyzed yeast, natural flavorings, and about 20 other dubious names for MSG neatly masked as ingredients the general public have no clue about.

I admit, I was not a happy camper. For years I’ve cooked without giving thought to what is in the pasta noodles, canned foods, packaged foods, etc. that I’ve been buying. And I didn’t want to have to start now. I threw a little bit of a fit, complaining to my sister that there’s nothing we can eat due to her super restrictive dietary needs. How sensitive of me. Thankfully, she stuck to her guns and within a week I was reading the backs of packages dutifully trying to ascertain if my sister could eat what was in these foods.

This nuisance quickly morphed into a quest for understanding what actually IS in our foods. I had never given thought to what I was really eating. If the label read a bunch of chemical names I couldn’t pronounce and had never heard of I figured, well, it must be safe because the FDA let it fly. Boy, was I ignorant and way way too trusting of others for what I fed myself.

It wasn’t long before I was entrenched in my own research and I got to the point where I was teaching my sister things she didn’t know. Christy, if you are reading this, I openly acknowledge you still teach me things I don’t know about nutrition and food science . But, I was proud of myself. I was developing this passion for uncovering the truth about our food system and what foods are made available to us. And, at the same time I was really scared at what I was discovering.

This research turned into full blown interest in learning more, acquiring knowledge and making changes in my own life based upon these new nuggets of truth. It also helped explain some of the minor health issues I had been struggling with – fatigue, stress, acne, dry/itchy scalp, etc etc etc. I realized there were actual reasons why I had some of these minor ailments and I was partially responsible for their onset. What a revelation. I could potentially control some of these pesky issues.

So, by the time I had decided my life would be fully given over to God, this passion had emerged as something I thought could be part of what God might have in store for me. However, the rough draft of my plan was:

1) get a certification in Nutritional Consulting

2) start a business on the side

3) build the business and when it’s making enough money to support me, proceed to step 4

4) quit my day job

Then, my sister threw me a curve ball. She was my roommate, best friend, and constant companion. We shared friends and playdates. Went on vacation together, to church and on and on. All of a sudden she decided she wanted to go to Korea to teach English. Like in a couple months. What?!? Our lease isn’t even up for another year! What am I going to do? I’m no good at having roommates (that aren’t family members). I would be house poor if I continued to live in our 1750 sq ft townhome by myself. Downsizing to a smaller place would cost about $3000 just in moving expenses. RATS! UGH! My plan has been foiled.

For about a month, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I contemplated all my options. In the meantime, my job was taking a huge emotional toll on me. There were nights I would drive home and call my parents half crying and half venting about the challenges I was facing. It was as if things were intentionally getting bad to cause me to get out. But, as it always is in life, nothing is cut and dry. I wanted to leave Corporate America desperately – it had been a dream of mine for over 10 years. But, they liked me too much. I prayed they would lay me off – at least that way I’d get severance and it would buy some time to figure out what I should do. That prayer wasn’t answered, at least not in the affirmative. To the contrary, my bosses wanted me to apply for a promotion. They gave me the largest bonus I’d gotten to date and they gave me a raise. DAMN! That obviously wasn’t the solution.

Throughout all of this time, I was seeking God regularly and continuing to build upon my relationship with him. I had had thoughts over the last year that I didn’t really entertain but that now kind of seemed like potential options. One of them was to ask my parents if I could move back in with them in Denver. Another was perhaps I could be a live-in nanny for my brother’s new (first) baby due in just a few short months. There were others, but those two were the ones that kept creeping into my conscious thoughts as potential solutions.

About a month after my sister declared her decision I went home to Denver for my sister-in-law’s baby shower. I had a foreknowing that this trip would be monumental in my situation. As I clued my family into my current situation they all overwhelmingly supported my decision to move back home. On the plane ride home I knew that was what I was supposed to do. This however, was another option that would have never been my ideal. I LOVED Southern California. I had always felt I should have been born there – I just felt at home there. After being there for a total of 8+ years I really didn’t want to leave. And, Denver’s great and all, but I really didn’t want to go back there. I knew God had worked in my heart for me to be willing and excited to be moving back.

The decision was made: I’ll quit work {with no job to go to!}, move to Colorado, and work toward whatever God led me in. Little did I know how hard and devastating the next few weeks would be. My trust in God would be challenged at my core.

 

That Recurring Nagging Feeling

It was inevitable. That I would have to face this thought, this feeling, this tugging at my heart that has been nagging at me for decades now. I remember ever since I was a child knowing I would someday have to deal with this and do something about it.

If you grew up Christian, as I did, you might be familiar with this, we’ll say “calling” for now. When you learn that Christianity at it’s core is all about spreading the gospel to unbelievers in hopes they too will get to experience the ultimate…..Heaven one day, along with an active and intimate relationship with Jesus Christ on their way through this life; it can be quite daunting and scary to commit to such a thing.

For years, I decided to take the half in, half out approach. I have always loved God, believed in Him and tried to be the best representation of a Christian I could be. Mind you, I have failed miserably at doing so, but at least my heart was always in the right place. Yet, I knew, deep down, at the moments when I was truly honest with God and myself, that there was something I had not yet decided, not yet given up. It was all of me. I was being succesful in this world giving a small part of myself to God. I had climbed a corporate ladder and was making great money for a girl who never finished college, was respected by my colleagues and business executives and had wonderful homes, new cars, nice wardrobes and money to take vacations, dine out, and pretty much do whatever I wanted. Life should have been bliss, right? Right – you know this story, it was not bliss.

All along, no matter how much I was promoted, the percentage of my salary increases, the more expensive the vacations, I was lacking so much and I knew it. But, I didn’t want to face it. So, I kept up my pursuit of fulfilling myself. I wasn’t totally selfish though. I tried to be a generous, helpful, sweet individual that people liked to be around. I threw lavish dinner parties {cooking is one of my BIG passions} and volunteered for a few different organizations as well as the churches I belonged to over the years. It always seemed each great moment was first and foremost, very short lived and few and far between. So, all this work wasn’t really paying off much.

That led to a bit of depression here and there, which I still struggle with to this day. No matter what I turned my focus to….hiking, cooking, road biking, travelling, being a better professional, friendships, entertaining, church, singing…there was always an emptiness. Now, some of you may argue…”she was probably never really saved if she felt empty”. I beg to differ. I now believe this world is very hard to survive in as an active Christian, that the enemy is always at our heels (especially if we are following God earnestly), and that we will never feel the fullness of joy and contentment that God has prepared for us until we are indeed in heaven itself. In the meantime, not only do we Christians get to experience the ups and downs of living this earthly life but to work hard to help others through this tough life as well, and hopefully help usher others toward a relationship with Christ, all while we deal with death, destruction, mental and emotional challenges, unfairness, sin, and everything that makes this a fallen world. SIGN ME UP – not really. That’s where this blog comes to life.

As I worked on my own personal relationship with Christ over the last two years (more fervently than ever before) this nagging I referred to just wouldn’t let up. It was like I was in a cage and I had to get out, because I couldn’t live the life God truly intended for me unless I made some dramatic decisions / changes. As I look back I can clearly see how intentionally and methodically God worked on my heart. My favorite things in life were those things that kept me feeling comfortable. My nice home, my nice belongings, my nice car, nice job, and so on. Those things I controlled, and they made me feel safe somehow. So, I held onto them for dear life! Most of us do, especially Americans. After all, those are some of the elements that make up the American Dream.

Ultimately, God brought me to a place where all I wanted was to live in his will. I felt like I could make the most impact with this life he’s entrusted me, if I could just find his will and live it out. Amazingly to me (and my family) I got to a point where I felt like I would be willing to give up everything just so long as I could follow my purpose – whatever it might be. This, you need to understand, was monumental within me. I’ve been the child in my family that always admired the nicest things, would drive around town oohing and ahhing at the nice, big homes in the good side of town. My focus was to accumulate as much beautiful stuff that I could and to feel accomplished. To say I got to a point where I would be willing to give that all up was a place I never thought I would get to. I used to rationalize with God that I didn’t care if I had a small tent in heaven because of my selfishness on earth, because at least I’d BE in heaven where there are no tears, no jealousy, no ill will.

So, that nagging feeling……I finally gave in. And, that is what this blog is all about. No matter how difficult this process is and will be, no matter how challenging my journey, how much my faith will be tested (as I’m sure it will!)…you will be along for the ride. The only thing I ask of you is to pray for me, that I truly do find God’s purpose that he fashioned me for before the beginning of the earth and can faithfully live it out. And, I’ll be praying the same for you – SCARY!!!

Note, because this journey has started out being hard already, I have delayed in beginning this blog. At this point I am about 3 months behind. So I need to tell the story in past tense until we get all caught up. Additionally, I feel extremely vulnerable in doing this blog. I also feel horribly vain. But, this blog is not for me. As my adorable friend, Melissa, encouraged me…do this blog because I’ve touched her life and can potentially touch the lives of others by telling my story and inspiring hope and encouragement to anyone who can relate to this walk we call Christianity. Thank you, Melissa. I love you for pushing me to do this and I pray the purpose of touching lives will truly be fulfilled.