To you, and you, and you!

2014 heralded change the moment of her very birth and inaugurated the worst-hated, most-beloved, ever-vexing, always-blessed 365 days of my existence.

 "Oh ye of little faith" labeled my forehead those first weeks of agony, of panic, of fear.  Swiftly though stamps of hope(!), faith(!), happiness(!), punched those feelings of despair to the underworld.

I certainly didn't secure my footing alone.  God lead the way and you have participated generously and graciously in Project Stephanie.  Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

THANK YOU.

I want you, all of you, to know that I think of and thank God for your kindnesses and your service to me and my littles.  Every. Single. Day.  From caring for and loving my children to an encouraging word or text.  From hiring me to hanging my curtains. From renting an apartment to me to comforting hugs.

Gracie, Jonas, and I are all so very blessed because of you.  My heart is constantly brimming with thanksgiving for and with love towards each of you.  Often times those feelings of gratitude spill over to weeping. 

Happy, happy new year. 

I love you.

May you be blessed for all you've done for me and my family.

Wiser Too

Precocious.

Definition:  having or showing the qualities or abilities of an adult at an unusually early age

Synonyms: bright, aggressive, cheeky, forward, sassy, quick, mature, intelligent, flippant, bold, presumptuous, pushy, smart-alecky

Precocious. 

This word generously peppered my childhood.  I can recall vividly my parents and other adults in my life rehearsing various renditions of "My, you are a precocious little thing!"  It rarely sounded complimentary, but I always took it as such.  Probably due to my presumptuous nature :)

I'm no longer a child, but thirty-two years old. Today. My birthday. Thirty-freaking-two.  What happened?!  How am I in my thirties?!  Like, In. My. Thirties.

I wonder sometimes how closely I resemble that precocious child.  Are we twins?  Close cousins?  Distant relatives who occasionally share a turkey and gather only at funerals?

This past year.  Whoa Nelly.  Talk about a growing year.  For real.  Many, many (MANY!) lessons.  Difficult ones.  Like quantum physics difficult.

So here I am.

One year older and wiser (?) too!

Happy birthday ta me :)

Sweet Ann

 Shortly after the first of several miscarriages, in an effort to mend my broken heart, I adopted Ann. 

And in her own way, she really did help to ease my heartache.

Nine years ago, almost to the day, Ann moved into my home and into my heart :)

She's one of my best friends, that dog.

She's one of Gracie's best friends.

And one of Jonas' best friends.

Today, our best friend moved out.

Blessedly, she moved to a place she can run wild-crazy for a lifetime.

Where her hound nose can explore for ages.

Where she can rough and tumble with other four-legged friends.

Even though this isn't goodbye for ever, three hearts are braking around here.

Offer up a hug to the littles if you see them around.

And be prepared for some intense sobbing if you see me around :)

The "D" Word

Buckle up because there's no sugar in this news:

I'm divorced. 

Officially.

As of Wednesday.

And, oddly, that's ok.  I'm ok.  Happy even.

I've made about a bazillion mistakes throughout my life, but my marriage is not one of them and neither is my divorce.

I certainly wanted my marriage to thrive and grow and blossom into the eternities.  Wanted it fiercely.  I labored and sweat and pleaded and prayed for the survival of that union.

Fear of being alone, fear of failure, fear of a "broken family", and fear of being unloved consumed me.  So much so that I gave myself up at some point.  I gave up my voice.  I gave up the trust and the love I had for myself.  I gave up my happiness.  I gave up my self-worth.  I let it all go freely and it went without much notice.

Until a catalyst slammed into my life.  It was the beginning of the end.  Or really, the beginning of my personal renaissance.

Over eighteen months, that catalyst bulldozed, threatened, imprisoned, and then ultimately encouraged the restoration of my soul.  I opened my eyes.  Reclaimed my reality.  Reclaimed my happiness.  Reclaimed my identity.

My marriage wasn't all daisies and daydreams and it wasn't all brambles and bee stings either.  As is true with any relationship.  However, there came a point when the landscapes The Former and I each envisioned for ourselves no longer appeared in the same painting.  Our paths no longer traveled in the same direction.

I wouldn't say this experience of divorce and all the events that lead to it were meant for me, that I chose it in some pre-earth life, or that it was "part of my plan".

I also wouldn't say that this experience wasn't meant for me, that I didn't choose it, or that it wasn't "part of my plan."

It just is.

I sometimes wish the scenes of my fairytale had turned out differently.  That the scenes continuing to play out in real life mirrored the scenes from my mind.

However, I also think my story is quite perfect the way it is.

And actually, somehow, it seems far better than my own script.

Throughout the past eighteen months I often thought my pain and fear would paralyze me.  That I would collapse under the weight and cease to exist.

But I kept on.

I daresay (yes, daresay) I'm thriving.

I have gained so much from what I lost.

I faced my greatest fear.

And I nailed it.

Boo-yah.

The Worst Day?

I must have seriously been on the right path yesterday because....woo-eee.  

It was a doozy. 

And I celebrated with a Mardi Gras-sized pity-party.

(Mardi Gras? Yeah? That's a random comparison..)

For.  Real.

Somewhere between the flat tire and my failure to 

properly pitch a softball to six year-olds,

I decided to toss the tantrum.

I made the decision to change my attitude.  

And I celebrated with an EPIC helping of blessings.

For.  Real.

They were everywhere.

SO. MANY. BLESSINGS.

And the thing is, I didn't have to blessing-stretch.

They were IN MY FACE.

It's crazy how a little tweak in attitude changes pretty much everything.

He's Baa-aack

This guy is home after being away for TWO YEARS!

This is about as close as Jones would get to Alex because his "heart felt shy right now".

Gracie whipped up one of her originals for the big day.

Welcome home little brother.

So glad to have you back!

Farm Animal Days

 Farm Animal Days ranks in my top five favorite traditions.  I love it.  The kids love it.

.....well, they mostly love it.....

just not when I'm trying to take their (...his) picture :)

This little (?) miss is turing SIX in just a matter of weeks.  She's already settled on her future profession:  veterinarian.

Or aritist.

Or a veterinarian artist.

She loves all creatures great and small.  Soft and slimy.  Creepy and crawly.

She even loves giant-sized goats.  Aka burro's.  She's still young in her veterinarian training.

This little man adores anything chicken.

Or at least he did until one of them chomped on his sweet little finger.

Don't worry, he recovered quickly.