On the Cusp of Another Year - New Year's Eve 2025 (aka: What I Thought Would be "My Year" Did NOT End Up that Way)

I keep spreadsheets for work each month where use Google Sheets to list the client's name, how much I made, mileage, when I was paid for that job, etc under the corresponding date. However, there's not a great way to find an old spreadsheet because this program has limited organizational options.

Because I'm a very visual person, I started putting a symbol at the beginning of the title of each month's addition. One year it was an asterisk, another it was an exclamation mark... you get the idea. This way I could scan the list to find all of the pages for a certain year quickly.

At the end of 2024, I got some business-changing news. My most steady client had to cut back and I was due to lose more than half of my income each month. However, as I had a feeling this was coming, I tried to be optimistic. If you know me at all, you know this isn't natural; however, I had been wanting to branch out. After getting this news, it was no longer a choice. I decided to be optimistic about where I was going.

In addition, my husband was studying to get certified as a paralegal. This was his major in school and he worked as a paralegal for a while after graduation. Then, for various reasons, he didn't stay in the profession, which meant that he had gone several decades without doing paralegal work. He wanted the certification to prove he was still able to do it.

So, I went into 2025 full of hope. It was going to be "my year" in my business. I was ready to get out there and make some money (and hopefully help others along the way). My husband was going to pass the certification test and get a really good job. For once, the pressure wouldn't be on me to make money as he should have a pretty good salary in that scenario.

To help keep that hope alive, I chose a dollar sign to start each 2025 entry. 

The year started off with a bang. 

I met with a friend who is also the head of a writers' professional group after telling her I wanted to pick her brain on how and where to start finding the writing work I had lost. 

I was floored when she offered me an amazing opportunity. The writer's group she was in charge of was starting to publish books. They were also having various staff write a book for a series of books on writing.

As an honorary staff member of the organization (because I'm their official photographer), my friend offered me the chance to write a book in the series with some type of photography angle.

What?! I had wanted to write a book since I was a child. This was an amazing opportunity.

However, the deadline was only a few months away, and I was trying to build up my paid work while working on it. It was a frantic, though fun time.

I was able to join my local Chamber of Commerce through a barter - photography work for the membership fee. I just knew loads of work in my suburban city would come my way as I was the only full-time photographer who was a member of the Chamber. I joined the local merchants' association and worked hard at networking with them and the Chamber, as well as attending other networking events.

There were successes. My book was published. I made a substantial amount at one shoot. I started writing and shooting for other publications. My husband was studying for his test. 

It was working out as expected... at first. However, two things happened that ended up changing my entire year. 

In January, my 87-year-old mother fell. 

That's not unusual in itself. She falls a lot. I joke that we should get frequent flyer miles at the ER. But this one caused her elbow replacement (actually the second one) to come out of the bone that goes into her shoulder. She was in horrible pain but had been told that if something happened to the second replacement, nothing could be done. There just wasn't enough bone left to attach it to in order to do it again.

She spent months in pain, simply trying to learn to use her left arm and deal with the pain. 

Though it would change the entire course of 2025, for months it was just (literally) a pain to deal with.

From April to June, my 26-year-old daughter moved back in with us. You can go back and read some of that story in earlier blogs. Just know that it took a lot of adjusting on everyone's part to make it work.

During that time, I was able to work some but it was difficult as the move was a major deal.

But back to Mom.

In April, she found the one doctor in our state who would take on such a surgery. We were able to get an appointment for mid-May. At every appointment, we held our breaths, expecting to hear that he couldn't do it.

But he could.

Her first surgery was in July. This surgeon had told us he would have plans A, B, C, and D - all of which he came up with after consulting with some of the top surgeons nationwide who do this kind of surgery. I don't think he knew we would end up with Plan E.

Halfway through the surgery, he came out of the operating room to talk to my brothers, my husband, and me. He told us that there was only one thing they could do - take out her current elbow replacement hardware. From there, we had a choice. We could either let it heal up, which meant Mom wouldn't have an elbow or a functional arm, OR we could take a few weeks for her to recover and go back in to do a total elbow-humerus-shoulder replacement.

We chose the latter.

This was when I became a caregiver - and when work became secondary.

The second surgery - about a 10-hour operation - was in August. She had to stay in the hospital for about a week and was at a rehab hospital for almost two more weeks. I was with her almost the entire time. I tried to work some from the hospital, but it didn't go well. She needed too much help.

However, she made it. She was extremely weak and needed a LOT of help at home when she was discharged, but she did it.

Then her arm became infected.

They went back in and did a third surgery - a "clean-out." This was in September. She was again in the hospital for about a week and spent another week in rehab. I was there the majority of the time, but I needed to work some, so I tried to do both.

Resulting tests showed that the clean-out worked. She got over the infection. But, for some reason, the wound wasn't completely healed. She had been opened up from her shoulder to her wrist, and about a 4-inch-long part wasn't healing.

This led to the fourth surgery - a debridement. They were hoping that they could cut away the tissue that wasn't healing to give it a boost.

She didn't have to stay overnight in the hospital for that one. Woo-hoo! Her surgery was on Halloween, and it was nice to be home instead of back in the hospital.

All of this wiped her completely out. Her body kept betraying her. Other issues throughout the four surgeries made everything harder. 

What this meant for me is that I was able to work less and less. I lost all of the momentum I had been gaining. In fact, I made nothing, nada, ZERO in September. 

It's been two months since her last surgery. That wound is finally healing. She's been able to use her walker for the first time in months. Part of this improvement was that she ended up going on hospice for pain management.

The ironic aspect of this part of the story is that after she decided hospice was a good idea, she found out she has lung cancer.

She doesn't want treatment, so there's no need to get a biopsy. As a biopsy is the only way to show what kind she has and whether it's fast-growing or slow-growing, she isn't technically diagnosed with cancer. She's technically on hospice for heart issues (though they know about the cancer and will address it as needed.)

With that news, work again became secondary. It took a lot of meetings to get her started with the hospice program and I had to be at all of them. She may be much more ambulatory now but she's at a huge fall risk and so it's more nerve-racking to leave her alone than it was before. 

This past month I made $25. Oh - and my husband never was able to finish studying for his test because of everything that happened. (He was the secondary caregiver as he was the only one who could pick her up when needed). 

I'm at a loss of where to go from here. I'm still needed as a caregiver too much of the day to really focus on work. Add to that, my back issues have gotten worse. It takes everything in me to complete a full event now. Writing is a better option, but writing opportunities are few and far between.

I have a few more days that I can procrastinate on any decisions, justifying it by knowing that the world is on hold for a couple of days. Businesses are about to close for New Year's Eve and many will stay closed tomorrow. Friday will be spent with issues that I've had to wait to deal with (medical bills make up most of them). Monday is my target day to try to figure out where to go next.

One thing I wish I had done when I started writing this blog is to get subscribers. I've looked into it since but never figured out how. But I do know there are a few who read this blog at least occasionally. As 2025 ends, I thank you - and anyone who has read any of my blogs. I hope I was able to encourage you through all of my ramblings... or at least let you know that you aren't alone.

Let's hope that 2026 is much better (at least for me). 

Depression, Anxiety, Mental Health... Do Bible Verses Help?

I’m at our weekly prayer time at my church. The person who did the devotion spoke about mental health. I’m not discounting her experience, but I believe differently. The advice she gave for those who are struggling is to reach out to others, to start back on an old hobby or start a new one, or to go to a Christian counselor. 

While those are good things, the very definition of depression (or at least major depressive disorder) is that you can’t do those things. There have been many medical studies of the brain that show that the areas that make a person have the ability to do those things are messed up, smaller than they should be. It is literally pretty much impossible to help yourself out of a true mental health depression state.

Now I’m not saying that God can’t work. He can heal. He can heal the brain (something I have never thought about until I was typing the words right now). Support from others can be a major part of that healing. 

But the person who needs the healing can’t reach out. It’s up to the Church to do the reaching out. It’s up to the Church to pray for those who need help. It’s up to the Church to encourage hobbies by inviting a person who is struggling to come with them.

As I write this, I’m in an “up” cycle of the bipolar disorder I still deal with. I’ve been awake since 12:30am, and while I might get tired later, I’m not at all tired now. I’m fully of “ready-to-go.” I couldn't have slept if someone bribed me with a huge sum of money in the wee hours this morning.

I don’t know if the person who spoke deals with chronic mental illness. Maybe she said mental health and I translated it as mental illness. With mental health issues, maybe the advice she gave will work. 

Even if that’s what happened, the problem is that many others might do what I did - mix-up the terms. At the end of her devotion, she shared several scriptures about not being afraid, not being anxious, etc. I’m not saying the scriptures aren’t true, but it’s just… not… that… easy… If it was, I wouldn’t have struggled for the majority of my life with these issues. My husband wouldn’t be so depressed that he can’t look for a job. There wouldn’t be a need for psychiatrists and medicine and licensed counselors.

And there is. There always will be. Because putting the healing on the sick person isn’t what will heal them. God, through the work of the Body, is the only thing that will.

Waiting

Waiting is something everyone has to do, from the time of birth to the time of death. Sometimes waiting is predictable - like waiting for your birthday or Christmas to arrive. Other times it's unpredictable - like waiting for customer service to pick up. Sometimes it's over a long span of time - like graduating college. Other times it's short - like waiting in line at a fast food restaurant.

But having to wait is inevitable, occurring hundreds of times each day. 

Right now I'm waiting to find out the options available for my mother upon discharge from the hospital, which could happen as early as today. 

In an ideal world, going home would be the top choice, but she's really weak from fighting a post-surgery infection and I'm really weak from trying to take care of her while still managing the rest of my life. I don't know that she can come home and stay safe because there just aren't enough people who can take care of her at the moment.

I have plans this week - doctor appointments, church groups, and work - that I need to adjust depending on what options we have and what we decide. It's the uncertainty... the knowing that what I can do depends on information I don't have yet... that's killing me right now. I just want to have enough information so I can work out plans for the rest of the week.

But I can't.

All I can do is continue to wait.

Caregiving is HARD! (Especially When the Caregiver has Physical and Emotional Issues Already)

I've been a partial caregiver for my parents for years. However, the majority of that time, they were mostly independent, sometimes to their detriment. (Doing too much led to some of the issues we are facing today.) The only time I was really called upon to help in everyday life was for small things, like helping my dad put on his diabetes monitor or assisting mom with hard to reach zippers.

The times they needed more extensive help were after each of their many hospital visits. I was usually the one who spent the most time at the hospital, arranged follow-up doctor appointments, helped to fill out paperwork, etc. I have three brothers who were involved, but when they came to the hospital, they sat and visited instead of really helping with their care - and when each of my parents was discharged, a lot of the care fell on me since we all lived together.

After my dad passed a year and a half ago, I've had to do more and more for my mom in everyday life, but she has still been pretty independent. I suspected that this latest surgery my mom had would lead to doing much more than what I've needed to do before, but there was a part of me that hoped I was overreacting. 

It turns out I was right. 

In fact, it was worse than I imagined.

As much as we love and are thankful for the doctors who did the very involved surgeries she needed, they didn't help with the reality of recovery. In fact, they didn't mention what the recovery would be like at all. But I don't blame them... I really think a surgery this rare has never been done before on a woman of my mother's age. No one knew what would happen. 

Let me explain what the past two months have been like - and what surgeries I'm talking about.

It all started on June 5th. After hearing about this one-of-a-kind doctor, we had to wait a couple of months for this date to come. Mom and I were collectively holding our breath, thinking at any minute that he would say the surgery was too dangerous, too complicated, just too much for an 87-year-old with all of her physical issues.

It turned out that she was seeing the only doctor in Alabama who would even discuss doing this kind of surgery on her.

Backstory: My mom had crushed her elbow in a fall when she was 6-years-old. She found out about elbow replacements in her 50's. Still somewhat rare then, this replacement had gone well... at first.

Then it broke. 

In 2014, she had a second elbow replacement, with a surgeon at the time who was the only one who would attempt that procedure. The surgery went well but he told her after her recovery that if something happened to it, there was nothing that could be done. There was too little bone left to attach the prosthesis to in the future.

Early this year, she fell and broke it again. She went for months dealing with horrible pain because she thought there was nothing that could be done. That is, until she found Dr. Smith at UAB and made that wonderful June 5th appointment.

Dr. Smith laid it all out. He admitted that he wasn't sure how to do it but he had several ideas in mind. He explained the options and after scheduling a follow-up visit, he told us that he would use the time until that appointment to talk to some of his colleagues around the country and get their input.

There were several ups and downs between that visit and the first surgery but we made it. We were told she would need to spend one or two nights in the hospital before going home. I told them I thought we'd probably stay at least three.

I was right.

But what was really disappointing was that it wasn't even a longer stay because the surgery was more complex than they thought. Well, actually it was more complex than they thought. Much, much more complex. So much so that they decided they had to do it in two stages.

In the first - that initial surgery - they would take out all of the old elbow replacement hardware. Then, at some point in the future, they would put in a total shoulder/humerus/elbow replacement. Where the first surgery was a couple of hours, the second would be much, much longer... ending up with her being about 8-9 hours under anesthesia. 

This time they said she would stay in the hospital two or three days. I said it would be longer.

I was right - again.

She was in the hospital and then a rehab hospital for 20, yes 2...0 days. I stayed with her in the hospital every day and night, only going home twice to take a shower. Though I didn't spend the night, I stayed with her in the rehab hospital all day, every day, with the exception of one right before she went home.

It was exhausting. It was draining. It was HARD.

However, it was nothing compared to when she finally got home. 

My mom has a condition called ulcerative colitis. In her case, it causes diarrhea and makes her need to go to the bathroom often and very quickly after eating. In other words, she often didn't make it. 

Furthermore, did I mention that the surgery was done on the arm of her dominant hand? She had no use of her right arm and hand at first, due to major swelling and not being able to move her shoulder at all. Plus, it was difficult for her to use her left arm/hand.

I'm not a very patient or selfless person. I was a teacher - not a nurse. Teachers need these traits but it's totally different. However, I love my mom and would do anything for her. I tried to make myself become what I needed to be to take care of her.

Have I said it was HARD?

I'm sure it's hard on anyone, but you add back pain, anxiety issues, bipolar swings, auto-immune flare-ups and other similiar things to the mix, and it's HARD. 

But I did it - somehow. Still, I'll be soooo glad when she's able to be somewhat independent again.

Happy Birthday, Jack

 Last fall my sponsor, mentor and one of my best friends passed away. Today was his birthday. We hardly ever celebrated each others' birthdays on the actual days but we always tried our best to celebrate them in some fashion.

The main way we would mark the occasion was to eat either Chinese buffet or Japanese steakhouse meals. It was a special treat and a fun way to spend time together, especially when we went to a Japanese steakhouse and had them cook it in front of us.

This morning I looked at my calendar and saw his birthday at the top of my items listed for the day. It's the first birthday in about seven years where I didn't at the very least get to call him and wish him a happy birthday.

As we are both Christians, my hope is that this is the best birthday he's ever had - one where he's not in pain, where he's not dealing with his addiction that so affected his life, where he's not living alone in a house he had a hard time taking care of as he grew older. 

But I've been mourning all day. I miss him incredibly. My husband and I went to a Chinese buffet and ate in his memory. It wasn't the same, of course. 

So... happy birthday, Jack. I'm so thankful that you were a part of my life. I miss you.

I love you, big brother!

Being Part of the "Sandwich Generation" is Hitting a New Level

I'm 57 years old. My mother was 30 when she had me and I was 31 when I had my daughter. So we weren't exactly "young'uns" when we each had our daughters. 

If you haven't done the math, that makes my mom 87 and my daughter 26. Previous blogs have chronicled the health issues my mom has as well as some of the mental and physical issues my daughter has. I've also recently written a lot about my daughter's move back home.

For those new to this blog, the short version is that four people live in this house - my mother, my husband, my daughter and me. ALL of us have auto-immune disorders, mental health issues, financial struggles, and strong personalities. 

Let me sum up some of the extra challenges I have during this phase of my life.

For most in my age bracket whose parents and/or children still live with them, it's their house. In my case, it's my mom's. I went through a major job loss and career change not quite a decade ago and in the process, I sold my home and moved myself and my daughter in with my parents (my dad was still alive at the time).

It's a very nice home... it's in an upscale community, with a total of 4 bedrooms, 3.5 baths, a kitchen, dining room, a garage, and two attic spaces right off the 2nd floor (so no pull-down ladder). I'm thankful for that. 

However... the only space that's "mine" is an upstairs bedroom (and I sometimes still have difficulty with stairs, even though overall I'm losing weight and getting stronger) and a study full of what my husband and I need for our photography/writing business. 

Previously, I had 3 rooms - a den/kitchenette (so my husband and I could have some things of our own and not in my parents' kitchen), plus the bedroom and study. We had to move the couch from the den to the bedroom and the apartment fridge into the study, so our already cramped space became even more cramped. 

Here's the real fun right now... my daughter has 4 cats. She won't let them go outside unless they are confined because she has some big anxiety issues about them getting hurt. There is absolutely no space in her bedroom to have a litter box, so we built a "catio" outside her window with a cat door as access. This space has space for them to play, sunbathe, and use the gigantic litter box we included. 

Her bedroom and our study are connected by a small foyer with a bathroom in between the two rooms. We have double swinging doors at the entrance of this area.

I have one cat who goes outside as she pleases through a cat door in the living room window. This means my daughter's cats can't go out into the main house because they might use the cat door to go out. So, to give her cats room to run, each night my daughter lets them out of her room, locking the double doors with a barn door lock. 

This means during those hours, I have to fight my way into and out of my study to make sure none of her four escape. I can't just go in and grab a drink from my fridge or work in the wee hours of the morning (my favorite time to work) because of them. It's been a BIG adjustment.

Before I go on, I want to emphasize that I'm thankful she's here. She was in a toxic relationship and she needed time to heal. Our relationship is better than it's ever been with her here again. With my mom's surgery, it's nice to have someone else in the house to take care of her when needed. 

But that doesn't make it less difficult.

So, going on... my mom just had surgery. When she was a child, she broke her elbow, which never healed properly. About 10 years ago, she finally had an elbow replacement. Then she injured it again - and needed a second elbow replacement. This was rarely done (at least then) and they told her nothing could be done if it was injured a third time.

Well, she fell on her shoulder - where the rod was attached. The rod came out of her humerus bone, causing her a lot of pain. She was still able to use that hand (her dominant hand) and had partial use of her arm but the pain made her seek out help.

She finally found a doctor who would tackle this complicated and risky surgery - the only one in our state that would. We both held our breath every time his office called or we had to go in for an appointment, thinking that at any point he would say it couldn't be done.

We were wrong. It was done.

However, when the surgeon got in there to fix it, he said that the old hardware was "rattling around." None of the several options he had planned on were able to be completed within that one surgery. Any additional time under anesthesia could be fatal (and I'm not being dramatic.)

Midway through the surgery, the doctor called for a conference with my brothers and me to tell us the news - and to ask our permission to do the plan he had mentioned briefly but never really thought he'd have to do. 

The only real option was to do the procedure in stages... the first being the surgery that day, which meant taking all the old hardware out. Then he wanted to wait about a month for her arm to heal somewhat (they had to cut a bone to get the lower part out) before doing the second surgery.

What none of us had planned on was the impact this change would make. She was supposed to be able to use her arm within a few days of the first surgery. Now she can't use it at all until the second surgery - there's nothing holding her lower arm to her upper arm. 

It's the little things that make life so difficult. She can't open a jar of medicine to take a pain pill. She can't carry anything because she had to switch from a rollator walker, one that has a seat that she used to carry items, to a cane. She can't make a cup of coffee in the morning as she can't open the creamer she loves. 

Plus, there's so much more that she either struggles with or can't do now.

Currently, my business is practically dead. This is a wonderful thing because she needs someone around all the time, but it means one more month of taking money out of what was supposed to be for retirement. 

The hardest thing for me is how I'm always torn. If I'm helping her, I feel I should be working. If I'm working, I feel I should be helping her. I have to arrange for someone to be here when my husband and I are gone to a physical therapy session (the result of when we were rear-ended and my car was totaled) or a doctor's appointment. It's really difficult to go to the YMCA to work out. I've even had to miss church.

This challenge multiplies on the many days my back is hurting. One example is when bending over to help her dress, as there's a lot of strain on my back. 

Like I did with my daughter, I also want to emphasize that I'm glad I get to be here for her. The other option would probably be some type of rehab center, an incredibly expensive option where she would be miserable not being able to be at home.

Even though I'm thankful I get to have my daughter back home and I am able to take care of my mother when she needs me, it's just plain ol' hard. I don't know how those of you out there who do this kind of thing with much, much more intensity - like having several children with disabilities, or having both parents going downhill fast, or fostering children who have come out of rough situations - make it.

I guess we all just have to live day by day (sometimes minute by minute) and do the best we can. At least that's what I'm trying to do.

 

An Email to the Pastors of My Church About True Community

(Note that I've changed names in this post - and that it was written during an early morning weekly prayer time where one person shares, then we divide up and pray, and then we pray together. I wrote this during the individual prayer time. Also, it has taken me a while to post it. I wanted to really think about whether it should  be posted - and to give those I sent it to time to react. Before you even read it, I want you to know that both of my pastors came to me separately and apologized. They each acknowledged that they dropped the ball on this and they would work on ways to hopefully make this less likely to happen to others in the future.)

This might not be the best use of time for prayer - and this wasn't my intention when I came this morning - but what our speaker this morning said touched on something I've been debating on bringing up.

You both know how much I love this church. I also think you both know that I was pretty much dedicated to never going to church again just over a year ago (other than Deaf Church, and that was to practice sign language more than being "at church"). While covering the K-Love Fan Awards Weekend last year (the weekend before first coming here), God did a work in me and I had a desire to find a church. I had no idea where to start but when I googled it, this church jumped off the screen at me. When I watched a video of a service I pretty much knew.

It took maybe 15 minutes for me to fall in love when I first came June 2, 2024. This church ticked off almost every box that I had prayed about in the past (before I gave up on church). There wasn't a doubt that I knew I supposed to attend this church.

And I was right. It is an amazing church. I believe that God is doing great things here. 

But I recently had something happen that made me have to fight a battle on whether I could stay or go back to where I was before - being so hurt that I couldn't get past it - giving up on the idea of church again.

I think you both know about my daughter moving back home - I've shared about it in several prayer requests. Well, she doesn't have anyone who could help her move and other than at church, my husband and I don't know many in the area (one issue with freelancing). The few friends we have are either older or live far away. We couldn't afford to hire anyone. Those in my family have various health issues that kept them from helping. 

On top of that, a few weeks ago my husband and I were rear-ended and my Santa Fe was totaled. I had planned to use it extensively during the move. The wreck caused my back issue to get worse as well as it causing other, new physical issues. My husband, who was driving, also got banged up also with back and neck issues.

I've known for a while that it was going to come down to only my husband, my daughter and me to do the move. My daughter and I have back issues and can't pick up anything heavy. We also both have issues with stairs (and the attic where most of her stuff was going to go is at the top of a long flight of stairs.)

So, mostly the entire move was on my husband - whose back was also hurt during the wreck.

I shared this with my small group, fully expecting help. After all, I thought that was what small group was for. 

Only one replied, but later had to cancel. 

I happened to share it with a friend at church, who shared it with her small group, and she had one in her group volunteer to help for a little bit. The one who canceled from my small group ended up being able to help with one load the last night we had to get everything out. 

But other than that, nada. 

Oh - I shared this with the worship team and a few others I know at church, practically saying I was desperate for men and trucks. I knew how hard it would be on me (who would try to do too much and strain my back even more than it already is) and my daughter (same issue). But mostly I knew how hard it would be on my husband, literally carrying the bulk of the load, going up and down the stairs with multitudes of boxes and small pieces of furniture. (Thank God there wasn't a lot of big furniture). 

For a church that I know loves people and loves to serve, why wasn't there anyone who would help us? I assumed that my small group would help... I even thought they would come full-force and really help us knock it out. 

I know that I have a lot of crap that I deal with - and share. For a while I've been wondering if (1) those in my small group are tired of hearing it and so they dismiss what I share or (2) if they don't believe me and think I'm making all this up for attention. 

The lack of help for the move made me wonder even more if this is true.

I'll be honest - I'm hurt. I'm frustrated. And I thought about leaving. However, I know that God has us here so leaving isn't an option. 

I've been planning to share all this with you since the move (about 2 weeks ago) but I've been holding back and trying not to share about my life for the reasons above. However, about a week ago, I told our marriage counselor about what happened and he encouraged me to tell you.

I still love this church. I used to love my small group. I'll be honest again - now I have a hard time trusting them. I feel that they don't have my back - and I thought that was the main reason for small groups to exist. 

Like the speaker this morning said, I know our church isn't perfect. I know the individuals who make up the church aren't perfect. I definitely am not. 

But this was rough. Having my daughter move back in with us is an extreme change. The physical move messed us up physically and emotionally and adjusting to her being here is an adjustment like no other. My husband and I basically lived in 3 rooms before - a den/kitchenette, a study (which is filled with all of our equipment as well as big desks for the large monitors we need when editing), and a bedroom. Now we live in 2 rooms - a bedroom/den (we moved the couch in there) and the study. My dresser is in the landing at the top of the stairs as is our bedroom/den. It hurts to climb the stairs, so I hang out at my desk way more than I should.

Even though it's a huge change, there were no other options and we will do anything to keep her from being homeless. I feel that that God is going to use this time to bring her to Him. But even knowing that, it's still really, really hard.

Most likely there were really good reasons for people not helping. I know everyone is busy and many also have physical issues that prevent helping. 

I don't want pity and I'm working hard to not feel like a victim in all this and the other things that keep happening in my life. I just wanted to be acknowledged. I forgot to mention that not one person even said they couldn't help. Not one asked if there was another way they could help. Not one took me aside to listen to what I was going through. One person at church did tell me last Sunday that my email went to his spam folder and he just happened to find it, so I take it back - there was one... but it was 2 weeks too late. 

Like I said before, I know I share a lot - and I have a lot going on where I need support and prayer. Am I not supposed to share all this? Am I supposed to keep it in and just pray and hope by myself? 

In Matthew West's song, "Truth Be Told," there's one verse that says "There's a sign on the door that says, 'Come as you are,' but I doubt it... 'cause if we lived like that was true, every Sunday mornin' pew would be crowded. But didn't you say Church looks more like a hospital? A safe place for the sick, the sinner, and the scarred... and the prodigal like me." 

I feel this church is one of the closest I've seen to the hospital in this metaphor. But instead of treating everyone, it only treats some. Thinking more about it, I am supported - when I'm growing in my faith journey - not so much when it's a personal, real-life matter.

You know about this blog - "Spotlight on Stigma: Welcomed but Not Accepted." On it, I try to be honest in all the crap I deal with, in all the good, in the struggles and in the victories. But one of my main tenets is to be real. That means sharing what's really going on in my life - good or bad. 

That's who I am - that's one of the things I feel God has called me to do... to be vulnerable so that others know they can also share their hurts and questions and victories. I don't want to have to change who I am to fit in at church. I really thought we were more than that.

By the way, my husband feels the same way.

We love you guys and we still love our church. The joy I had playing guitar with the team last Sunday was real. But so is all of this. We refuse to let something like this get in the way of what we feel God is doing. We just don't know what to do with our feelings.