Tarnished

This morning I found it. A necklace I had lost almost three years ago. The crazy thing is, it was right under my nose the whole time.

I had been looking for a different necklace on my jewelry holder. This lead me to search a little deeper than I normally would and that was how it caught my eye: a tiny delicate diamond on a silver chain. It was snarled in a much larger clump and I almost missed it.

It used to be bright silver, and that’s how I knew it.

Fully Starving

Stop. Breathe.

It all feels so real. The carefully procured creation in front of me. So real and yet so far. It reveals everything but it reveals nothing.

I know about you, but I don’t really know you.

Yes and No

Oh my word. You guys. I'm on draft number five. Five. I still haven't sent it.

You see, I have to send an email. An email I don't want to send. It's time.

I've been living my life in a way that I would tell a client not to. Whoops.

So You Want to Bill Insurance (as a client)

If you plan to use insurance benefits for mental health, you might want to read this article first. What Your Therapist Hasn't Told You About Using Insurance.  Go ahead, this can wait!

Okay, if you still want to use insurance benefits for mental health, here's how to do best that.

How To Bill For Therapy (In-Network or HMO)

Do Cafe Tables Block Bullets?

Some days it's just too much, guys. All the suffering that exists. The ways we humans have found to hurt each other. The many ways it is possible to be afraid. It gets too heavy.

Yesterday. I had a moment. It was over quickly but I am still stuck on it.

I was set to eat lunch at a local cafe with a colleague and friend. Unknown to me, the bank next door had just been robbed. As I parked, the adjacent lot filled with police cars.

As I ordered, I was distracted by the team of armed officers who made their way quietly through the crowded restaurant. One even drawing his taser at one point when he threw open the restroom door. Without a single word, the bustling lunch crowd silently watched the uniformed men work their way through; their posture rigid, their hands on their weapons, their eyes searching.

In that moment, I thought of a lot of things. All. The. Things. All the terrible things.
"Can a cafe table block bullets"? I casually wondered.
"Where are all the exits"? I made mental note.
"Would the bathroom be a safe bet? No, no exit." All while ordering soup and salad.

A woman with two small children finally asked an officer what was on all of our minds, "Are we safe here?" He gave a vague gesture (maybe a thumbs up) as he exited the building and continued his search outside.

Then my food was ready. My friend was waiting at a table. The officers were mostly gone. So I sat down and ate. Which to me, is perhaps the weirdest part. No one left. We all went back to eating.

Partly I sat because it was automatic. But really, if I think about it, I had an inner conversation with myself. One which ended in a subtle declaration "There is danger everywhere." And so I sat.

The rest of my day was also heavy. In fact, I didn't get the chance to tell anyone what happened.

But now I am home snuggling with my toddler and sipping coffee and thinking. WHAT WAS THAT?
"Are we safe here?"
"There is danger everywhere."

And I don't know.

I have no brilliant insights to offer about it. I have a lot of questions.

I also think of those officers and how that frightening moment is their everyday. I want to give them each a hug and a cookie and a day off.

But as for the rest, I don't know man.

My newsfeed is full of anger and fear. FULL OF IT. I make no political point here. Politics do not interest me right now. I kid you not, this morning I saw a police instructional video for how to handle a mass shooting. "Run, Hide, Fight." it said. Like "Stop, Drop and Roll" except for when someone is shooting at you.
"Are we safe here?"
My office is full of people who are traumatized.
"There is danger everywhere."
And I am cuddling my toddler....

I just. don't. know.

My son's pj-clad foot. Also, my sanity.

Here's the only thing I know. The ONE THING in the midst of the dark.

I choose hope. 

That's it. That's what I've got.
I choose to smile at my kiddo's naked booty (he just walked out of the bathroom).
I choose to say "thank you".
I choose to dig for love when there is anger and fear.
I choose to look at my corner of the world as my personal calling.
I choose to turn on Christmas lights at every possible opportunity and smile.

It makes no sense. It solves nothing. But it is everything. It is all I have.

Wishing you hope, smiles, gratitude, love but most of all hope,

The Tree

I am in a love affair. Outside my window is the most beautiful tree in the world. You might not believe me, so let me offer photographic evidence collected over time.

I like to think of my office as the Tree House- I think you can see why. The point is, this is serious love. 

Ode to Tree or something like that.

Trees have played an important role at different points in my life. So... let me just play it fast and loose and say: I love trees. 

Fast forward: I have been licensed a few years but I am brand new at supervising counseling interns. I am very young (as opposed to now, when I am full of wisdom). Younger than most of the people I am supervising. Suddenly, my mentor and dear friend is seriously injured. And, of course, I do everything I can to help in his recovery. In part, this means I am "him" for a month- filling in his very big shoes.

Here's the problem though. I am so not him. He's the kind of mentor everyone wants. In my book, he's kind of a big deal. He's the sort of person who makes you feel safe, and seen, and valuable and competent all at the same time. The sort of person that you want to be around. The sort of person you feel lucky to be around. Combine that with decades of experience as a therapist. He is a valuable well of knowledge and experience in a package of infectious warmth. And guess what? I'm not him.

I'm sooooo not him.

Not even close.

So... it is the holidays. I am a mom and business owner. I am worried about my dear friend and mentor. And I am trying to be him. Sort of. In that, I am trying to be him and failing miserably at it. Because, well, none of us do that very well.

And everywhere I go in his place, there is a new group of people that is so very worried about this man they love. They are desperate for updates and for reassurance. Reassurance I cannot honestly give them in the early weeks. And they are so painfully aware I am not him. 

And I just keep thinking, really Lord?

And I let myself get caught up. Caught up in the worry. Caught up in my feelings of inadequacy. Becoming very internally aware of all the ways I fall short. The experience I am missing. The wisdom. The sort of benevolent-comfort vibe that I wish I had.

I don't do zen very naturally.

I know, hide your shock.

And I enter this store at the exact right moment. And my eyes fall on this necklace. 

And in that moment all the trees I have loved flood into my mind. I stare at this necklace and I realize what I need to do. I make myself a promise: I will stop being a poor version of someone else. Instead, I will be the best version of me.

And honestly, I don't even know what that looks like in that moment. I don't have some great insight here. It's completely unclear and I don't know how I'm going to get there. But I know in my gut, this is a promise I must find a way to keep.

And I guess I'm sharing this for two reasons. One, because I am obsessed with my tree in the way a proud pet owner must talk about their pet (and share pictures). And so I will take any opportunity to talk about it. Two, because I wonder if you might be experiencing this too? Is there somewhere in your life that you are trying your very best- to be a poor version of someone else? What might happen if you let that go? You're not succeeding at it anyway. You can't be. What if you made a brazen promise to yourself- to be your best self... and no one else?

Tree-hugging,

The Tree

"The wind needs to be able to move through the tree" my dad explained. "At least that's what the tree guy said. So every few years you have to cut off every third branch. That way the tree doesn't get disease and it gets nice and full."

I looked at the tree- it didn't look full. Not yet. It looked barren. A two-story clump of sticks punctuated with a few leaves. In comparison to the before-pruning version of the tree, it looked like it was missing something. And yet, according to the expert, it needed to be 'missing something' so that the health of the tree could be preserved.

You see where I'm going with this. (I know you do!)

Often my clients will come into my office because a part of their life is "diseased". It's stagnant, or unhealthy in other ways, and they can't seem to clear the rot. They know the disease well. I often don't even have to point it out- they will tell me it's there on their own. But the inevitable question becomes "What do I do about it."

And then, there is the moment of truth. The moment where things must be surrendered, before the health can be restored. The moment where the tree will feel bare. "The air needs to be able to move through the tree." I try and say in a thousand different ways. "That way the tree can withstand storms, the tree doesn't get diseased, and the limbs get enough sunshine to become nice and full."

But the bare tree is scary. It somehow doesn't add up: cut away green limbs to save the whole.

The air needs to be able to move through the trees...


Wishing you sunshine and lots of fresh air on your limbs,

Beyond Words

WARNING: DISTURBING REAL IMAGES OF SEPTEMBER 11
Out of respect for what real men and women endured, I thought real photos were a necessity. Please take care to avoid this if you need to....






























I'll never forget the first body I saw fall through the air. It seemed suspended in air, suspended in time... as I sat staring in suspended disbelief.

















I'll never forget the first of the twin towers falling. The sheer enormity of the weight of it. Every cell in my body whispering: "this can't be happening". Every part of me wishing that the scene would stop, the hero would fly overhead, the movie would role credits.

This can't be real, I thought. And yet it was.

September 11, 2001 was a day where tragedy heaped upon tragedy... each moment seeming more unspeakable until heartbreak couldn't describe it.

That was the first lesson of September 11 for me: that indescribably horrific things can happen to people who don't deserve it. That cruelty and hatred and rage can become so murderous... that it can take thousands of innocent people with it.

Oh sure, I've read history books. I stay informed on current events. This was not new information intellectually. But it was new information in my heart: the pure powerlessness of watching people fall to their deaths, watching people crash to the ground with a 1500 foot building, watching people run screaming from the bomb-like cloud of debris and fire. The pure powerlessness that my gasp, my horror, my tears, my cries... could do not one thing to stop the terrible events unfolding in front of me. That is a lesson of the heart. And it was a horribly bitter one to swallow.

But that wasn't all I learned that day. Freeze that frame. Look again.

Because on the same day I learned about the capacity of the human heart for bravery. I learned that a person fleeing for their lives could stop in their tracks to lift someone from the rubble. I learned that firefighters hugged one another goodbye before they charged up the stairs. I learned that ordinary citizens rushed back into the smoke and flames to check among bodies for a single survivor. I learned that people fled the debris without trampling one another. I learned that volunteers assembled on that very day to go back into the warzone they fled, to check for survivors.





You see, September 11 will be a day frozen in my mind. But when it plays in my mind- it includes the worst and the best of humanity. The cruelty and the compassion, the cowardly and the brave. What a moment: the stark contrast of the murder of innocents... against the dignity of caring for another before your own survival. And it is my belief in the "better self" that keeps propelling me forward.







Because if all I learned that day- was sheer powerlessness in the face of hate... then I would have only learned the lesson taught by the few. But if I honor the courage and the compassion... then I honor the lessons of the many. And how beautiful they are.

I'll never forget,

You Are What You Marinate In

Let's pretend I am a normal person and not a "therapist" for a moment. It will make this easier to admit.

There are days I think angry or unkind thoughts about my husband.

It usually happens when I'm feeling overwhelmed at the sheer enormity of the task before me... and then I trip over something he (unknowingly) left in my path. He doesn't even have to be there, but in that moment, the emotional force of all of my frustration finds a bulls-eye! I go from stressed-out mommy to "innocent and unappreciated" martyr in the span of 5 seconds.


It's not pretty. In fact, it's entirely petty and childish and mean-spirited. I guess I should be thankful it all happened in my head, huh?

Oh yes, you know "the look"

But here's the thing: regardless of whether or not anyone knows the depths of my thoughts, they will still change how I feel and interact with my husband later that day. I might be completely "over" the latest annoyance... and yet as soon as he walks in the door and does *that thing that makes me crazy*, I'm a lot less likely to chalk it up to a cute character quirk.

I like to make up terms. In this case, I call it a "Love Buffer". You see, when I spend all day marinating in angry, resentful, hateful thoughts... it depletes my love buffer. Suddenly my capacity for patience and understanding is drained. Things that might have been a "2" on a 10-point scale are now an "8". Suddenly, I'm fighting over something that doesn't truly matter to me. And the craziest part is... I might not even realize that my current fight is being influenced by my earlier private martyrdom.

But I've come to realize: I am what I marinate in.
-when I marinate in resentment all day, I eventually become resentful.
-when I marinate in hateful thoughts all day, I eventually become hateful.
-when I marinate in bitter musings all day, I eventually become bitter.

So does this mean I ought to suppress any momentary irritation with my spouse? Pretend he's perfect in my mind and expect that to solve everything? Hardly! But it does mean that once I've communicated my frustration to him, and we've worked it out, it's my job to make sure I'm redepositing back into my Love Buffer.

How? I marinate in the good with as much relish as I did the bad. By searching my memory banks for the recent kind and considerate things he did. By making mental lists of 3 things I truly love about him. By re-playing special moments in my mind: our first kiss, our wedding day, the birth of our son.

In other words, by doing what newlyweds do naturally: marinating in the love so that I have enough buffer to endure the bad. Because after all, I am what I marinate in.

Wishing you a squishy marinade full of love,

What I'll Be Doing This Memorial Day (AKA A Love Letter To Veterans)

I (like many of you) grew up thinking that memorial day was a day of BBQ and swimming. It was a day to enjoy some grilled corn on the cob, and good friends. Oh yeah, and it was a day my veteran father put a flag out on the front of our house.

As an adult (and a therapist who has had the privilege to work with some fine combat veterans) I realize that memorial day is so much more. For me, it's an exercise in gratitude and patriotism. Its a day to "remember the fallen." For for my combat veteran clients- "the fallen" have a face, a name, and a family. It's a day for me to bring out my flag. For my combat veteran clients- that flag was protected with the lives of their friends.

And so will I BBQ on memorial day? Absolutely. Will I enjoy good food and good friends? You bet! But I will also be taking my son to a local memorial service at a cemetery in the morning. I expect it to be rather difficult (with a toddler) and not a great deal of fun in the traditional sense. But I want my son to know: his freedom came at a high price. 

I live in peace with my family. I live without fear because countless strangers (men and women with their own families) gave their life for it. And so, I want to say thank you. "Thank you" noble and dear veterans. Your service and sacrifice makes my cushy life possible. My gratitude seems like a small return on your investment... but I offer it wholeheartedly.

With Gratitude and Respect,

When I Need To Kick A Little Butt

I have a good luck charm.

Okay, don't laugh at me. I realize that this might sound ridiculous. And for the record... I don't really believe it brings me good luck in the traditional sense. But this one article is my "go-to" whenever I need to remember that I'm a part of something bigger than myself. Whenever I need to remember that I have a cheering section behind me. Whenever I need a little extra feisty edge.

Are you ready? Here it is:

 

In case you can't see it (let's face it, my photography isn't particularly stunning). Its a small gold necklace with the letter "M" in fancy script on the front. The "M" stands for Marie: my grandmother's name, my great-grandmother's name, and my middle name. This necklace has been around for at least 100 years, and I get to have it for no good reason- except the name I was given at birth. How cool for me? (Sorry, Sis!)

My grandmother who wore this necklace was a feisty wartime bride who lived out most of her young motherhood in foreign countries where she didn't speak the language or know a soul. And she did it while never forgetting her lipstick or her pearls I'm certain. Now, don't go feeling sorry for her. She wouldn't appreciate it. Marie was a strong individual (who was an acquired taste) that would judge our presidents by their first lady (I like to think of it as feminist of her).

She once walked up to a stranger with a Washington DC license plate which read: "Taxation Without Representation" and said to him: "I don't think you all should have the vote. You have the nicest and cleanest streets already."

I mean really, what do you say to that?

She believed children were to be seen and not heard (that included her own grandchildren). And she also wore Estee Lauder faithfully every day of her life. When she died, there were TUBS of the stuff in her refrigerator. Why she bought in such bulk, I don't know. But that was her in an nutshell: expensive face cream bought in bulk, gold jewelry and fancy hair with a simple button-down collared shirt. She was quite a lady.

And so, when I need to remember that her blood runs through my veins, I wear this necklace. (Oh okay, and sometimes I wear it because it matches my outfit.) But I always think about her when I put it on: my namesake.

And mostly what I contemplate (for half a second while getting ready, because, really: moms don't have a lot of prettifying time) is that part of growing up is looking at your ancestry with all their flaws. Really knowing their warts and seeing them for what they are... and then loving the good of them, and honoring it in yourself.

And then I stop being so deep, and look at the clock, and realize I'm running late for the office again.

Wishing you roots that run deep,

Krysta

5 Reasons Why I Gave Up My Laptop

Psssst... I have to type fast.
Sadly, no beautiful photos today (my favorite part of blogs). No fun formatting.

Why? Because instead of typing this at home on my laptop, I'm sneaking my blogging in between client appointments.

Shhh. Don't tell. 
When colleagues see my door closed, they assume it must be important. Let's leave that illusion in place, okay?
Why am I doing this? Because, for 30 days... I did the unthinkable: I gave up my laptop. Gulp.


You see, my laptop and I have a love affair. It answers all my questions, calms all my mommy fears, provides socialization on rainy-stuck-inside-days-at-home. It also lets me watch my TV favorite shows for free- a fact I don't take lightly. Yes, my laptop suits me just fine.


And that, is the problem.


It beckons me "for just a moment". To check the new movie time, get directions, see the weather forecast. And before I know it, time has passed, and my toddler has trashed 2 rooms, gotten a "snack" all over the floor and is sitting on me in an attempt to finally steal my attention back.


So my friends, it had to go. Because
no matter how much I love my laptop- I love my toddler more. 


I won't lie to you. It's been rough. I'm just over a week into this experiment and there were times I was thankful that I separated the power cord and laptop in places far enough apart for me to think clearly before I could get them both. But a funny thing has happened in just this last week:

1. I've played more with my son.
2. I've gardened more (something I love).
3. My house is cleaner, warmer, and more lovely to be in.
4. I'm more emotionally present with clients (because I didn't "rush" to get there!)
5. I go to sleep earlier. (No glowing screen urging me to keep clicking...)

And so I keep it up. Because I'm convinced this is worth every inconvenience. My love (the laptop) can sit in the guest room closet for a while longer. Right now, my son has things outside he wants to "show me". So please forgive the formatting errors, or spelling errors, or just... the whole rushed aspect of the thing. I'm busy doing things that I love, and it feels good!

Wishing you more connection,

Motherhood: There's An App For That?

In some ways motherhood is easier than it's ever been. There's an app for potty training, sleep training and (I just purchased!) a clock that changes colors when kids are allowed to get up in the morning! Don't forget about baby carriers, car seat carriers, and Baby Einstein.

Most days I'm glad that I'm a mom today.

But I have to wonder: with all the advances, are we losing something?

I mean, after all, motherhood has (I assume) been just as fulfilling and meaningful for previous generations. (I feel safe assuming this because we still exist as a species... so there must be something appealing about it!) I also assume that previous generations didn't sit around doing nothing, and wishing "If only I had an electronic device to which I could give 4 hours of my attention!" And as far as I know- we still have just 24 hours in a day. 

So here's the strange thing I contemplate: What did we take out of our days to make room for the new gadgets?

Most of it (no doubt) was manual labor. But again, I know that previous generations didn't spend all waking hours laboring. So what about the relationship time? The social time? The interaction with others? What did they used to do, that we now fill with our new ways?

Don't get me wrong, I am not an "unplugged" kind of girl. (Clearly, as I write this in a blog). I belong to networks galore. Enjoy a good YouTube video. And I'm thankful that I can google just about ANYTHING that interests me. I love that I can stay connected with friends and family far away, and that everyone gets to see that cute new video of my son within minutes of it happening....I

And yet, I'm left thinking- maybe there was value to the slower pace. After all, it is how humanity has spent most of history. For example: transportation. Maybe there was value to walking alongside your child on the way to a neighbor's house? Maybe the fresh air, exercise, conversation, quiet, sounds of nature... were better for us than the gas fumes, cell phones, music blaring, DVDs playing, and traffic. Maybe there was something meaningful in the gaze of a newborn... instead of the glow of a screen? (Ouch).

Maybe in our quest to be the most-put-together-have-it-all-and-look-young-too woman, we lost touch with something else. The fast pace and glamorous appearance cost us something.

A little more time talking, less watching. More reading to, less reading online. I don't know- it's something I aspire to at least.

Wishing you (and me!) a slower-pace,

What If We're Just Okay?

I may have written on this before. If so, I don't want to know. Let's just pretend this is a unique and original though, okay?

Today it strikes me particularly hard, this idea of self-concept.

If a child is told they are naughty, mean and bad all their life- how will that child will behave? Of course: the child will act like they are naughty, mean and bad. S/he will live and choose things that back-up that idea.

This make so much sense to us when we look at children, but we  often forget this about ourselves. In our heads we run scripts of negative, harsh, no-good, very-bad thoughts all day long. We see all the things we do not do well enough. All the ways in which we cannot measure up. We run lists of things unaccomplished, things left undone. We constantly tell ourselves that we are not doing enough.

And then we expect performance from ourselves. We expect happiness, and success. We expect accomplishment.

How does this make sense?

If we spoke to a child the way we speak to ourselves, and then demanded achievement... everyone around would easily see and realize the error. Who is going to achieve anything, when all they hear is how they are nothing? Yet we do it to ourselves all day long, and no one speaks up for us....

So I'd like to propose something: What if we started telling ourselves good things? What if we are already good enough? Smart enough? Kind enough?*


Oh, I know what you're thinking. That negative self-talker is very crafty! The self-talker says: "But I don't ever want to feel I've accomplished everything, or I'll stop growing!" Yup, like I said: its crafty.


To which I say: "Crafty self-talker, look at the kids. Do we wait until they are Picasso before we praise their effort on their drawing? Do we wait until they are a professional athlete before we encourage them for giving their all in a game? Do we wait until they have graduated college before we ever congratulate them for an 'A' on a test? Of course not! That would be silly, and counter-productive. The child will give up long before making those lofty goals, if all they hear is criticism. YOU ARE THE SAME WAY."

Are you hearing me yet? Is your self-talker finally getting it? If we wait until we are perfect, we will never be kind to ourselves. And really, what a tragedy.


So I propose the radical concept: You are ENOUGH. Today. For this moment. Enough.... now breathe.

I really think you're enough,





*Okay, so I realize this is a good spot for a Stuart Smalley impression. But really, I'm not going for it. It just happens sometimes when I get on a roll. ;)

What Your Therapist Hasn't Told You About Using Insurance

Hi, I'm glad you're here!

This post was written in 2010 and no longer reflects the state of managed care and mental health. 

I've decided to retire it.

Best!

Krysta

Meet Buddy

 Meet Buddy.










 Buddy is my dog. Well, technically he is the family's dog. These are puppy shots of buddy, but he is over 3 years old now. Let's face it, there isn't a lot of opportunity to take pictures of your dog- so these are still my favorite.

I always say, if incarnation is real- I want to come back as Buddy in another life.

This is Buddy's favorite past time (yes, those are my legs). No matter what is happening, or where we are... Buddy is content as long as some part of him is touching some part of you. It makes him happy. He sighs with contentment and then falls asleep.

Buddy reminds me that we're all kind of this way. We all want to feel connected, safe, warm. We all want someone beside us after we're done with our adventures.


Wishing you connectedness,

In Case Anyone Wonders

If you ever wonder whether therapists lead a perfect life... let me put your questions to rest right now.

In a word? Nope.

I see this as a good thing. How good would a therapist be if they had never experienced loss, hurt, rejection, fear, anger, anxiety? How meaningful would their empathy be if it had to be faked, because they never felt anything like you? How useful would their advice be if it's never been battle tested?

Every now and then, I run across people who scoff at therapists they know who are imperfect. They tell me stories like they expect me to agree and laugh with them. Therapists have all the answers, right? So shouldn't their lives be perfect bliss?

In a word? Nope.

Therapy isn't about one perfect person telling an imperfect person how they can be perfect too. (Even writing that sentence makes my skin crawl a little!) Therapy is far more sacred, and far more messy than that. It is about humanness. It is about empathy and connection. It is about weathering storms with someone at your side.

Now, that someone at your side happens to have years (if not decades) of education and experience doing the same. They are an experienced co-pilot who can delicately tease out what is healthful and productive, and what is self-limiting. Their years of experience lets them pinpoint the heart of the matter, distinguish cause from effect, highlight destructive patterns. And all of that is wonderful and helpful.

But how empty would it be if the therapist wasn't fully aware of their own frailty and humanity?

I'm fortunate that I have a daily reminder of my own imperfections. It happens to come in a 3-foot-tall package with the most beautiful blue eyes. A two year old is the best reminder that education and training only means so much. If you can't connect, they're not interested. If you can't roll up your sleeves and dig in the dirt with them... they have no use for you. And regardless of your years of experience and education... they are unimpressed.

I am so thankful for my daily reminder. What a gift.

My Apologies

I know, I know. I've really not been here much lately. What's even sadder? I have had a dozen million-dollar-blog ideas. And now I can't remember one. Does that ever happen to you? (Well okay, let's be honest. At least I can tell myself they were million-dollar-ideas. We'll never really know and it makes me feel happy to think they were ever in there ;) )

Here's the good news- I've been busy doing good things!

Here's the bad news- part of that includes... gulp... accounting and bookkeeping.

Chalk this up to one of the many things they never teach you in grad school: "how to RUN a successful business". It's all trial and error. And I know this is going to shock you... but us therapisty types are NOT excellent at administrative tasks. (Yes, I made up a word, but I like it.) I like to think that we're more "people-people" and less "paper-people". So, as my practice has grown, so has my need for good administrative systems.

For example, it would be ideal if I could give my accountant some kind of records at the end of the year. Even more so if the records made sense.

So my work hours have been full lately, but I will be back soon. I see a light at the end of the tunnel.

I like to think that experiences like this are important. They're humbling at least.

Mathematically Challenged,

And Suddenly, You Realize...

No, I didn't forget that I promised to write more about marriage today, but I'm interrupting myself because sometimes... well sometimes you can't predict what will move you.



Today was just 'one of those days'. You know, the kind of day where you feel vaguely sensitive and agitated. Where your "to do" list isn't getting crossed off and your stresses seem to outnumber your happy thoughts. And then a friend of mine posted this link on Facebook... and my perspective changed in an instant.

 The Matthew's Story. WARNING: If you have experienced a traumatic illness for your child, or loss of your child- use caution when reading.

It's amazing how feeling a sense of the greater community (their suffering, their joy) will help you deal with even the worst days. All of a sudden, the things that were causing migraines seem insignificant and all you can do is whisper a prayer for a fellow human being while you hug your loved ones a little tighter.

I can't make sense of it all, I really can't. It begs much deeper questions than I have answers for. My heart aches.

And even stranger, I feel compelled to share their story. Interesting how the need for community is so deeply ingrained in us. Without even actually knowing them, I want others to hear their story- offer their love, support, sympathy, prayer.... And really, my "to do" list- whether it gets done or not- matters very little in this moment.

Wishing you health, love and the support of those around you,