Depression, Weight Gain, Vitamin D Deficiency....Diabetes.

I try really hard not to be a downer.  You know that person who's sadness sucks the life out of you?  Yeah.  I try not to be that person.  Everyone has their battles.  Some people battle alcoholism.  Some battle drug addiction.  Some people are in a relationship with or married to an abusive partner.  So I really do try to keep my attitude positive and look at the bright side of things.  

But sometimes ya just gotta get  stuff off your chest ya know?

Up until Dad died, I lived in denial that I had been suffering from depression since Ava's birth.  After I left my job at Toyota and took on a new role as stay-at-home mom, I lost track of a lot of things.  I missed my old friends at Toyota something fierce.  I would stop and visit whenever I had the chance.  Eventually these visits came to a halt.  I quit doing things I once loved.  A few months before dad died I had a falling out with someone close to me and it was hard to let go of.  Then after dad passed, this falling out came to a head.  I was 32 weeks pregnant when dad died, so throw some pregnancy hormones in there too.  

When we welcomed little Anson in June of last year it was bittersweet.  Kenny and I were so happy to welcome a healthy baby.  After Ava we wondered if it would happen again for us.  But it hurt that certain people were not there to share in the joy with us.  I felt myself become more disconnected from every day activities.  It was as if I was on auto pilot.  Ava and Aohdan always have clinics and therapies to go to, and having a newborn...suffice it to say there was very little sleep those first several months.  So at first I didn't give the extreme tiredness I seemed to always battle much thought.  I just took extra naps when possible and pressed on.  But it Did bother me that other moms seemed to 'handle' things so much better than I did.  I almost envied other moms I saw playing in the park with their kids, or planning trips to the zoo, etc.  "What is wrong with me?" I thought.  I had gained weight in nursing school, about 20 pounds, and then got pregnant.  So I went into my pregnancy with Anson too heavy. I luckily only gained about 15 pounds, and lost 10 pretty much immediately since he was a 9 pound baby.  But I was still WAY heavier than I should be. 

Just a side note.  Weight sneaks up on a person.  I just had a conversation with a friend of mine not too long ago about perspective.  I remember when I was newly pregnant with Aohdan, our first, and I was started to get a little 'pooch' in my belly.  I was about 150 pounds or so...and I was MORTIFIED when I had to put on a size 12 pants.  I gained 35 pounds with Aohdan and lost all but a few pounds by the time Kenny and I married a year later.  When I got pregnant with Ava, I gained about the same amount, but again lost it all pretty quickly..this time due to extreme stress not healthy eating and exercise like last time though.  When I left my job at Toyota in 2008 things changed.  I quit going to the gym, I quit eating healthy.  I survived on hospital food a lot.  Before I knew it I was back up to what I weighed when I gave birth to Ava...how the HECK did that happen?!  It really snuck up on me because I had started wearing sweat pants a lot since I no longer had to 'dress up' to go to work, I was quite shocked when I went to put on a size 14 and they were tight!  I tried to pick my old, healthy eating style back up but it didn't come as easily as it once had.  I realized I was 100% addicted to food.  I had used it as a crutch and comfort and now it was almost like a drug to me.  I suddenly had a new appreciation for people who were overweight.  You see, for all my life I was between 125-140 pounds. And I thought 140 was fat back then.  Again, perspective.  It's funny when you're trying to squeeze into a size 14, you suddenly would give your right arm to be 140 pounds again.

So going into nursing school I was able to lose some weight and was between a size 12 and 14, depending on the brand.  But I had been biking and working out, so i was actually in pretty respectable shape.  During nursing school I lived in either sweat pants or scrubs, both of which disguise fat pretty well.  When I graduated in the summer of 2011, I stepped on the scale for the first time in a year...yeah we're not going there.  Needless to say I was mortified.  That summer, while waiting to take my state boards, I worked at a friends dairy farm milking cows.  It was hard work, but I Wanted to because I thought it would help me take off some weight.  That fall of 2011, Kenny and I became pregnant with Anson.  I was elated, truly I was.  But I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about gaining even more weight.  I also battled gestational diabetes, which makes things worse.  In the end I kept my weight gain to 15 pounds.  But Anson's pregnancy was hard on me.  When it came time to give birth it was actually a big relief.  

So back to the rest of the story...

This year I have battled depression, fatigue, and extra weight.  NOT a good combination!  So after much prayerful consideration I decided it was time to see the Dr about my depression.  I began a low dose medication that did seem to help.  Things seemed okay, but I was still Soooo tirrrred.  I finally made an appointment last week to get a complete physical.  Even though I'm overweight, I do try to do cardio exercise 2-3 times per week and am hoping to get back to riding my bike.  So I didn't think there would be anything too awful on my lab results.  When the results got back, I found my vitamin D level was extremely low and I was borderline diabetic.  It was a real punch in the gut.  It was in that moment that I truly understood how people could cross that threshold of gaining weight to the point of no return.  What I was dealing with was a bad combination.  Depression and low vitamin D cause extreme fatigue, but being overweight can cause your body to use too much vitamin D, contributing to a deficiency.  A vitamin D deficiency leads to diabetes.  So basically one led to another.  I find all of this out the day after turning 40...great birthday present huh?

I am not expecting to be 125 pounds again, but I believe with my whole heart, that God intends for us to be healthy and vibrant!  So basically I am really praying hard to make some changes.  I am working on some as we speak, but it has been HARD.  I feel so far removed from the person I used to be that it just contributes to my depression.  And depression sucks too!  Because you try to put on a brave face so you won't bring someone else's mood down, when all the while you just want someone to listen.  Life is hard sometimes, and it changes you.  I sit and think sometimes about how much I miss the "way things used to be" when all I really mean to say is that I miss feeling "happy."  People used to always comment on how I was "so positive" and "had such a good attitude."  I just want to get back there, or at least part way there!

So if you're a praying person, I definitely wouldn't mind a few prayers sent my way.  I go in this Wednesday to get tested for diabetes. And I have made up my mind that even if I have it, it is just a good reason to make lifelong changes to my diet.  My main prayer is that this depression will be lifted and that I will stop crying over situations that I cannot change.  I pray that I will take on a new outlook and stay focused on the many blessings God has bestowed on our family.  I know things could be way worse, but I am just getting really tired of being tired and depressed.  It's not me, and I want ME back. I want to WANT to play with my kids and take them places and NOT want to go back to bed 30 minutes after waking up.  I also wanted to share my struggles because I know there are many of you out there who feel the same way and you are Not alone.

Blessings,

The Unashamed Christian

Homemade Almond Milk....Wow.

I have loved almond milk for as long as I can remember.  Never really cared for cows milk (except the fresh, raw milk).  I've been reading how easy it is to do, but just haven't done it.  I even bought 25# of raw almonds back in January so I definitely have some almonds available to experiment with, haha.

Well tonight I hit the bullet and did it...and it was DELISH!  I had soaked 1.5 cups of nuts in filtered water to soak, so they ended up being 2 cups because they puff up a bit when they're soaked.  I put all the soaked almonds in the Vitamix along with 2quarts filtered water and processed on high for 2 minutes.  

Then I draped a nut milk bag over a one gallon container and poured the entire contents of the Vitamix into the nut milk bag.  I squeezed gently until all that precious milk was in my milk container, and all that was left behind in the nut milk bag was (fairly) dry almond pulp. *I put the pulp in a freezer bag to use later

I ended up with about 2.5 quarts of almond.  I finished it off with just a dash of vanilla extract and a tiny bit of stevia.  It is delicious!  And definitely cheaper than Silk or Almond Breeze, not by much but cheaper... And HEALTHIER!

I am doing a happy dance right now;-D

Why I am adamantly against abortion

This is a deeply personal post.  It has taken me years to get to this point.  The main reason is that, being a Christian, I am constantly fearful of those dreaded words by a non-believer of, "You're a hypocrite!"  Because of the sensitivity of this post, any negative posts will not be allowed.

Ok.  Here goes.

The reason I am adamantly against abortion...is because I have endured this procedure.  It happened in my early 20's.  I was in a different place in life, and my worldview was drastically different.  It has taken me years to get to a point where I can even begin to forgive myself.  Christ has forgiven me, this I know.  But I battle every day to receive that forgiveness.  I felt led to share my story because so many young women out there feel this is their only way out.  Please believe me when I tell you that you don't want to go through life with this burden on your shoulders.  I hated myself.  Truly hated myself.

I became a born again Christian in the summer of 2003, just months before I lost my mom.  Once I gave my life to the Lord I began attending church services at a local church.  My walk with God was a struggle to say the least.  It has taken me years to realize that my years of partying and partaking in things I should not have, really hindered my walk with Christ.  I was so bound up in my own guilt that I couldn't truly allow God in to my heart.

To give a little bit a background, I come from an awesome family AND I grew up in the church.  So don't think us 'church kids' are immune!  But because I grew up knowing better, I think my self-condemnation was a bit heavier.  My mom was such an awesome example of a loving, caring, Christian.  I hid everything from her.  I didn't want her to be ashamed of me.  So I hid my early sexual experiences.  I hid my smoking from her, cigarettes and marijuana.  I lived under this pseudo façade of this good little girl.  When mom found out I had an abortion she. was. crushed.  And I was crushed.  I was ashamed.  But like so many things I just shoved it under the rug.  I built a wall around it and pretended it didn't happen.  But it was always there, lingering just under the surface. 

After some years went by, it had almost become so distant a memory that I felt it was buried for good.  Then one day I am sitting at work and I received a phone call from a friend I had known from "those" years.  She was pregnant and wanted to know if I could refer her to a reputable abortion clinic.  She was one of the few people who I had told about it and now wanted me to 'refer' her to a good abortion Doctor.  I actually felt sick to my stomach.  I asked her why she wanted an abortion.  Her response was short and curt.  She had that same emotionless reaction that I had had years ago.  I was sick with guilt.  I told her how much my decision years ago had impacted me and asked her to reconsider.  I can only hope and pray that she listened.

Fast forward to Ava's birth.

When my daughter was born with no signs of life in 2007, my long buried guilt reared its ugly head with a vengeance.  I remember like it was yesterday, sitting at her bedside and listening to a Doctor tell me she probably would not survive the next three days.  My husband and I had decided to have a home birth.  We had put a lot of careful thought into our decision.  I had a healthy pregnancy.  We had a back up plan.  But family members and friends still expressed concern that something would go wrong and we were putting our baby's life at risk.  Guess what was going through my head when I was listening to the Doctor tell me that my daughter would more than likely die?  I blamed myself.  Oh man did I blame myself.  I also allowed myself to feel that I deserved this because I had killed my baby years ago.  The guilt was incredible, and it was only my love of my husband and son, and my love of Christ, that I didn't just kill myself.  There were many, many days that I wished I would just go to sleep and not wake up.  I didn't feel I deserved to live.  The self condemnation was a heavy, heavy burden.

As a born again believer, I believe in Heaven and hell.  I believe there is a spiritual battle going on and the devil was having a hay day with me.  The Bible tells us that Jesus came to bring us life to the fullest, and the devil came only to steal, kill, and destroy.  Satan wants to keep us in condemnation.  He doesn't want any of us fully receiving the Grace that Jesus died to give all of us.  After Ava's birth I had a real hard time receiving any of this grace.  I hated myself, and I told Kenny this many times.  I know at times he was deeply worried about me.  I wouldn't have killed myself, but I can tell you there were days I wanted to die.  There were many nights that my husband would hold me in his arms while I cried so hard my eyes felt like they would explode.  He would ask me to tell him what lies satan was telling me so that he could pray over me and ask the Lord to remove the lies from my mind.  These were dark, dark times. 

During all of this it seemed our church started talking about abortion a lot.  Talking about how wrong it was, and how we needed to stop killing babies.  These words resonated in my head over and over.  All I heard was "killing babies."  I was one of those.  Now this was my perception.  It was kind of like when you buy a new car, all the sudden you start to see them everywhere.  It is just how our minds work.  Because I had had an abortion, it seemed I heard this topic come up everywhere.  The feelings I had suppressed for so long finally came rushing to the surface and one night as I was laying in bed, I burst into tears and, through sobs, told my husband what I had done years ago.  Of course he didn't hold it against me, and prayed over me that I would receive the love of Christ and His forgiveness.  It was a relief for sure.  But there was still a nagging in my heart that there was more I had to do.  Every time I saw a newspaper article or Facebook post about some anti-abortion movement, I found myself hesitant to share because I didn't want someone who knew about my past to see it and think I was being a hypocrite.  But God kept tugging at my heart.  I knew He wanted me to share my story and my struggles.  I knew I had to share my story, but I was petrified of the condemnation and what others would think of me.

My purpose of sharing this story is two-fold.  First I want women who are contemplating having an abortion to really, really think and pray about your decision.  It will forever change your life and you will never be the same.  No matter your reasons, trust me you are not prepared for the emotional chasm it leaves on your soul.  I know I am forgiven, but I am forever changed because of my decision.  Secondly, as with any sin, just because it is legal in terms of the law, does not make it right in the eyes of God.  All these human rights groups talk about Pro Choice.  And I supported this for years.  But I cannot support this. 

Abortion is not the only sin I have committed.  If I were judged by God's law (the Ten Commandments) I am probably guilty of breaking just about every one.  I've lied, I've disrespected my parents, I've committed sexual immorality, and there is many more.  But here is the kicker.  In the spring of 2003, my mom had confronted me about my faith.

She point blank asked me one day, "if you were to die tonight, do you think you would go to heaven?" 

Her question really riled me, "Sure I am," I replied. 

"How do you know?"  She said.

(Here it comes)

"Because I am a good person," I told her.

Let me just make this point.

You see I had spent my whole life telling people I was a Christian, yet all the while just not getting it.  You see, you cannot just pick parts of the bible to live by and discard the rest.  You either BELIEVE or you don't.  There is no in between.  I used to believe all my friends were going to heaven.  I believed my Muslim, Buddhist, wiccan, etc etc.  I believed they were all going.  But the bible is very clear on this point.  Jesus said, "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.  No one comes to the Father except through me."  It wasn't until the summer of 2003 that I really embraced this.  You see, we are all sinners.  There is a lot of chatter these days about homosexuals and the liberals hate the conservatives, and the gay and lesbian groups hate the Christians.  Bottom line is that we are all sinners and need the Grace of our Lord.  He is there for all of us. 

I keep finding myself getting into these stupid debates with homosexuals, and being accused of things that I am not.  At the core of my belief system is a desire to live according to God's will for my life.  Do I mess up?  Absolutely.  But it is my desire to live by His rules, not man's rules, because man's rules are static.  There are no boundaries any more. 

So back to my mom...

She just shook her head when I told her I was good enough to get into heaven.  It took me awhile to realize the absolute absurdity of what I said.  Was I for real??  A girl who had dabbled in sexual promiscuity, had had an abortion, had done drugs..did I really think I was good enough.  It took me being brought to my knees as a broken women to realize how much I needed a Savior.  I needed Jesus. I finally asked my mom if there was someone I could talk to.  She sent me to talk to a pastor friend of hers and he ultimately led me through repentance and the sinner's prayer.  It was life changing.  But it doesn't make me better than you or anyone.  It just makes me forgiven.

There are topics I am passionate about, but it usually revolves around my belief in a Christian worldview.  It guides my decisions, my marriage, how we are raising our children, everything.  The Lord picked me up when I was completely broken.  He showed me His love in a dream one night, and He assured me He would always be with me.  And I believe Him.  But I still live in a broken world, and I am human.  I battle just like everyone else.  I battle feeling angry that two of my children struggle with disabilities, I battle anger, I battle independence.  I battle a lot of things.  I. Am. Not. Perfect.  But I am forgiven in Christ.

If you know anyone who has had, or is thinking of having, an abortion, please have them email me.  It is a burden no one should carry.  Every life is a miracle, and every baby is a blessing.  I thank God every day that I have three beautiful children, because I believed for years that I didn't deserve to have children. 

Again, this post is highly personal, but I felt led to share my story.  There are too many babies being aborted and too many women living in shame as a result. 


 

DO NOT open your door for Child Protective Services without first knowing your rights!

In light of what happened in Sacramento, Ca. where a 5mo baby boy was taken from his parents because they demanded a second opinion before undergoing a medical procedure, I have posted this list created by a legal firm about ten ways to protect yourself and your children if CPS targets your family. If you have special needs children you are at a much higher risk of this happening by the way!

http://www.news10.net/news/article/243243/2/Parents-global-audience-await-decision-in-Sacramento-custody-case-

Might I say I can't blame these parents since this hospital made SEVERAL medication errors while their son was in the PICU, including wrongfully administering antibiotics on VIRAL pneumonia. This couple had CPS called on them, and their sweet baby removed by FORCE because they wanted a second opinion? If CPS shows up on your doorstep, DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR without knowing your rights!!

http://www.bransonlegal.com/Ten_Things.html


 I am a licensed nurse, and after HUNDREDS of hours of research, I am no longer an advocate of 99% of the vaccines out there. This is my RIGHT! I have had so many parents tell me, "Why are you against vaccines, MY children are just fine." Well good for you, and congratulations for falling into the 70-90% who show no outward signs of vaccine damage. Notice I say 'outward' signs. None of us ever questioned vaccines before our children regressed either. I personally find people who question my motives complete idiots. I would die for my kids, in a second, so ANY decision I make regarding their medical well being is because I feel in my heart of hearts that it is best for them.

For the record, the physician who first recommended hand washing to prevent the spread of deadly disease was called a quack.  It was a German physician by the name of Ignaz Semmelweis who observed that by simply rinsing hands in clean water dramatically reduced the instance of infant death. 

http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/rr5116a1.htm 

This was because physicians of this time (1840's) were going from woman to woman, delivering babies and not washing their hands in between.  It was also common practice to perform autopsies on corpses who had died from extremely contagious diseases, and go straight to surgery.  CAN YOU IMAGINE?  These types of practices are completely unimaginable but be assured that the practice of hand washing was only formally implemented in the 1970's.  

I firmly believe that one day, the reality of the damage that vaccines cause will be fully exposed. Until that time these are MY KIDS and God help any government agency that tries to take them away from me just for protecting them!

Comments are moderated so please be respectful.  I have not been posting much, but this is near and dear to my heart. God stay close to these parents, and believing a lot of good will come out of this situation.

Gateway to hell found in Turkey? Wow.

Here's the story as told by Fox News.

http://www.foxnews.com/science/2013/04/01/gate-to-hell-found-in-turkey/?intcmp=trending

I have heard many stories lately about the very real existence of hell.  Definitely NOT a place you
want to live in the here after.  There is a pastor is NJ (I think), Robert McLaughlin of Grace Bible who talks about the very real existence of hell, and in particular a part of hell referred to in the bible as the Abyss.  There is a story in the bible where Jesus drives out demons from a man, and when Jesus asks its name it says 'Legion,' referring to the fact that there were many.  As they are driven out, they plead with Jesus not to send them to the Abyss, but ask instead to be sent into a herd of pigs. 

Not to get to far off track, because this topic can be extremely in-depth.  But I just found it interesting that several pastor teachers have mentioned the biblical location to the entrance of the Abyss to be in around the area of Turkey.

 

Am I the only mother who does this?

Since Anghus has been born I have relished every second with him. Not that I love him any more or less than Aohdan or Ava..it's just different this time around. After Fergus was born I took the typical 12 week maternity leave, and then went back to my job with Toyota and left him with a baby sitter 40-50 hours a week. I didn't give it a second thought. Life was just busy back then, well life is busy now...let's call it a different kind of busy. Then Ainslee came along and, well, life changed. I knew that I mourned the loss of the newborn phase with her, it's just taken me a long time to realize just how MUCH it changed me.

After Ainslee was born I really didn't think we'd have another baby. I just didn't see it happening for me...for us. So when I got pregnant last year I was absolutely elated. And on June 9 we were blessed with the sweetest gift God could ever bless us with. A Healthy baby. Man...I never realized just how much people take for granted having a healthy child. I remember during my pregnancy people would ask me, "So. Do you want a boy or girl?". I always answered, "A healthy baby. Really. I do not care as long as he or she is Healthy.".

When Anghus was delivered, at the very end I experienced a shoulder dystopia..meaning his shoulder got stuck under my pubic bone. That was the longest. 90 seconds. Of. My. Life. During that time I felt taken back to Ainslee's birth for a brief second. But the midwife freed him and laid him on my belly. A healthy baby. And aside from the first 6 weeks or so, he has been an absolute doll! He just is soooo sweet. He smiles all the time, giggles at everything. And just lights up a room. He absolutely turns me to mush. I feel guilty sometimes, because I think, "Am I enjoying him too much?" But how can you enjoy a baby too much right? I guess because sometimes I get wore down dealing with other, more difficult, things that he just calms me.

So on to my neurotic behavior. Sometimes when I hear about sad things, I take ownership of it. For example, I heard about a local mother and her 11 month old baby boy dying in a fatal car accident. I just the grief as if she were a family member. Another time I heard about a mother who was in hospice care and had 3 children at home-the youngest was 5 months. Ahhh..I hear about those things and look into the eyes of my kids and cannot imagine leaving them. I have actually ended up in the shower crying...because that is what I do, I cry in the shower.

Tonight I was giving the baby a bath in the sink, and he was just so cute. He little fingers busily searching the perimeter of the sink for something to chew on while scratching his butt with the other hand. Yes, he is a butt scratcher. Even THAT is cute though! But as I wrapped him up in a towel and dried him off, I just got lost in his innocence. I laid him on the couch and let him have his typical after-bath nakey time, and soaked in his giggles, his smiles, his little baby yells--all of it. Then it hit me again, "Gosh I could not imagine missing out on this," and then of course the thoughts of, "how could someone hurt a child?". And I found myself getting tears-eyed AGAIN. Haha. I have become a softy, and I cry over everything. I often joke that the older I get, the more like my mother I become. But I had a great mom, so if I become like her, I won't complain:-)

So does anyone find themselves looking into the eyes of their child and turning into a big, blubbering pile of mush? Please tell me I'm not the only one.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

I thought I was ‘good’ enough: Part 1

 

I have struggled with where to begin my story.  What would best convey the message I am trying to get across.  A conversation with my mom, back in 2003, keeps coming to mind.  You see, 2003 was a cross roads in my life.  I pretty much hit rock bottom within the span of one month.  I turned 30 that spring, a big milestone for a young woman, and a week later received an email from my longtime love that he wanted to take a break and figure out what he wanted in life.  Which was obviously not me.  A few days after this I was fired from a job I had just started, and the topper?  I overheard my mom talking with her Doctor on the phone one morning.  She did not know I was listening.  She started crying, asking her Doctor questions like, “How much time do I have,” and, “What will my quality of life be like?”  I had just overheard my mom receive a death sentence.  I didn’t even know what to think.  I was in denial really.  She still acted good and went to work, so I did what I always did, I acted like everything was fine.  I was also way too focused on why my boyfriend had broken up with me after so many years.  Granted it was a very odd relationship from the beginning, but all I could see was that my heart was broken.  Between the break-up, losing my job, and finding out my mom was terminal (even though I was in denial) I could not function.  I was not eating.  I would get in my car and just drive, sometimes for hours, and chain smoke and cry.  This is what I did.  I only opened up and talked to a handful of people.  Mostly though, I kept to myself. 

I had always been a pretty small person, maybe 130lbs, but during this time I shrunk down to a tiny 115lbs.  I remember when it really hit me that I was not eating, I went to put on a pair of size 8 jeans, and they literally fell off..and they were buttoned.  I felt like the world was closing in on me.  I felt hopeless.  My mom noticed all of this going on, and she always tried to engage me in conversation, but I was reluctant.  It was the whole trust factor I guess.  Mom had, at times, divulged personal information that I wanted kept private, to her sister, or friends, and I did not like that.  She did not do it to hurt me, she was just talking to her friends like anyone would.  And when she was worried about me, she confided in her friends like I confided in mine.  Even so, I didn’t feel, at that time, I could talk to my mom.

One particular day I arrived home from work and had obviously been crying.  My face was all red and puffy, and I was trying to avoid eye contact with mom while I made myself something to eat.  She knew something had been up with Todd (my ex), and asked if she could do anything.  I once again brushed off her saying I was “fine.”  I knew she was frustrated that I would not talk to her.  At this point it wasn’t just her though, I did not talk to anyone about it.  We continued to talk about other things while I made myself dinner.  Mostly surfacy conversation.  Then mom hit me with a bombshell question.  I’m not sure why she chose that moment to ask me.  But she made sure I was looking her in the eyes and she asked me, “Honey, if you were to die today, do you feel confident that you would go to heaven?”  I thought for a moment, and then answered the same way I have heard so many others answer.  “Yes,” I replied.  “How do you know?” Mom asked.  (Here it comes)  “Because I am a good person,” I said. 

Mom shook her head slightly at my response.  You see, mom had begun going back to church after she was diagnosed with cancer 9 years prior, and I felt at times, that she was a bit self-righteous.  And what I mean by that, is I felt that she was all-of-the-sudden an authority on religion.  (And by the way, I have come to loathe the term ‘religious.’)  I mean I liked church, but I just had not found a church that I felt comfortable with.  Whenever mom, or anyone, asked where I went to church I always had the same response, “I’m still looking for a church home.”  In truth I had developed a very bad taste in my mouth over the years about Christians.  Most of the ones I had met seemed holier than thou, or the Pastors always seemed to be asking for money.  I mean, I considered myself a Christian, but didn’t feel I needed to go to church to prove it.  So back to mom, she was shaking her head slightly at my answer.  It made me angry.  I remember I made a lame attempt at justifying why I was good enough. It would be several more years before I realized the absurdity of my response.

Later that night I finally broke down and told mom what had happened with Todd.  I told her everything.  She had seemed so tired lately. I felt in my gut that she was sick and would not be around much longer.  I confided everything to her that night-all of it.  Including the fact that I had recently found out Todd was gay, and had broken up with me to move in with his boyfriend.  I sat there in front of her and cried and cried.  She tried her best to comfort me, but there was no comfort to be found.  Finally she said to me, “I know of someone you can talk to, he’s a friend of mine.  He’s one of the pastors at our church.”  Immediately I felt myself stiffen up.  Mom sensed it too.  “I promise he won’t ‘preach’ to you. He’ll just listen and offer advice.”  So I called her friend and, just as she said, he was more than happy to talk to me. 

I met him at his church office. I felt a bit weird at first.  I walked in and the smell of ‘church’ immediately hit my nose.  You know the smell right?  I’ve always thought churches have a certain ‘smell’ to them, just like a hospital, or Doctor office.  (Getting off track) So I met mom’s pastor friend and recognized him immediately from my childhood.  His knowledge of my family and past immediately put me at ease, and next thing I knew I was spilling the entire story of how Todd and I had been together (on and off) since I was 17, and how betrayed I felt that he was now gay.  I explained to him that I felt I had wasted a decade of my life and that everything I had known was a complete lie.  He was so easy to talk to, and we talked for easily 2 hours.  After all of this, he asked me a similar question as mom had asked me.  Not word for word, but basically asked about my faith.  I told him I felt I was a good person and had tried my whole life thus far, to be honest and help people.  I explained to him that I had grown up in the church and loved God, etc, etc, etc. 

He smiled an understanding smile, and his shiny, blue eyes seemed to stare right through me.  He then slowly, carefully, began to explain the path to Heaven.  He explained that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that NO ONE comes to the God the Father except through Him.  I cannot remember his words, or the way he explained what Jesus did for all of us.  What I DO remember is feeling this incredible peace.  He asked me if I wanted to receive the gift of salvation that Jesus had for me.  I just nodded my head, “Yes.”  He then led me through the sweetest prayer.  Afterwards I felt I had released a huge weight from my shoulders.  I left my mom’s church that day and drove to meet my dad for coffee.  I felt as if I was floating on air.  I wanted to share the experience with someone, but wasn’t sure who would listen without thinking I was a ‘Jesus freak.’  A demeaning description, but one that I had unfortunately used to describe church-goers myself.  I also remember distinctly Not sharing the news with my mom, and I am sure she would have loved to have heard it from me instead of her pastor friend.  I can’t explain why I felt embarrassed to tell her I had been born-again, it was just one of those weird things about my personality that I cannot explain.  I am comforted knowing that her pastor friend shared the news with her, and that she died knowing her daughter’s salvation was secure.

I will write more later, but I want to end on this note.  Some may think that the day I handed my life over to Jesus, that everything was automatically better.  It Was in many ways, but I also still had many, many struggles ahead of me.  And many, many days of trying to do it my way instead of God’s way. 

Stay tuned for Part 2