Update on Skye

Hi everyone! This is a technical update on Skye, my oldest, that you have all been following so faithfully. 
Dr. Pong, our Infectious Disease doctor who is now one of two of our primary doctors in this process, called to say that the clots are the same size and there is complete blockage still of the left and right portal veins. 
The spleen is only mildly enlarged and the bladder, kidneys, gall bladder and liver all look good and are not swollen.
CRP levels are normal (a marker for infection) as are his CVC (white blood cell count)! His "anisi" (not sure what this stands for) is over 3,000 and his hemoglobin is 12.4. These are all good numbers.
There was a very low
bone marrow count the last 2 weeks but that has risen back to a normal range. That is a big concern as he is in the middle of puberty/growing and we don't want any early onset bone/growth issues.
She said, in addition, that his overall blood panel levels are very strong and whatever I'm feeding him is surprising that he has such great levels.
We will redo the ultrasound in 2 weeks. If the clots are still there, still the same size, we will take out the PICC and stop giving antibiotics. The auxiliary veins (the ones that were created by the body to move the blood in and out of the liver while it's lifeline veins were blocked) are working well and although the main portal veins are fairly blocked, the liver tissue looks good.

O.k. so maybe what I said was a lot of mumbo jumbo. Here is the good and the not so good:
1. Clots (complete thrombosis)are not good in any way/shape/form so we can continue to pray that those dissipate.
2. Same size clots that harden and heal are sticky spot on the sides of the vein where infection has a higher chance to attach itself.
3. There are so many levels in your blood that can be off. He has excellent levels and internal health (must be the ChickFilA) Seriously though, she said that usually this antibiotic wipes kids out.
4.The bone marrow count is a miracle. With this drug, usually the numbers don't go up!

So in 2 weeks, we'll get another ultrasound and tests and this will determine if we can have it out. Not exactly what we wanted to hear in terms of the PICC line staying in. Great news on the blood and tissue levels though! 

Pondering

"Hark, how the bells, sweet silver bells
All seem to say, throw cares away
Christmas is here, bringing good cheer
To young and old, meek and the bold."


Oh sweet loved ones near and far off
those who have been close and those who have been distant

We wish you a merry Christmas!

Because whether we are ready or not,
Whether it be June or September,
Whether we want to celebrate right now or we believe it to have happened nearer to summer

Whether you feel weak,
meek
old...

Whether you feel good, young and bold,

There is a time to acknowledge that He has come for us.
He died for our sins

He will rise with healing in his wings

And you will be released

Whether it's now

or later. Or now AND later.

This is good cheer. This is worth waking up each morning for and staying up through the wee hours of the night to bring medicine or warm milk or a listening ear or a tender breast to young and (sometimes) old.

This is good cheer because it means that this isn't our end. 

It means that those bells of freedom are going to ring whether you're ready or not. 

And it means that I am not in charge of when the bells ring. And in my moments of pushing on and wondering what I'm doing in this wandering space, the bells will ring! And it won't be because they rang too soon or too late.

"Till ringing, singing, on it's way

The world revolved from night to day...

God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men."

Merry, merry, merry day. When He shall come with trumpet sound, oh may I then in Him be found!

If we trust...

I know this refugee problem is bigger than me. I know that it might be more complicated than I'm aware but is it? 

This morning as I was fretting and sad, God reminded me that He is enough and that He can be trusted. Even if there is a terrorist sitting next door to me. He is my safety, not my border, not my neighborhood, not my church, not my husband. This is the scariest thing to me and yet the most reassuring. 
When we were in the hospital, a peace came over me and it was this: He is. He was and He is. He has been there during the crusades and He has been there at his own death on the cross when the whole world shunned him...o.k. maybe not his momma Mary, but yes, everyone. 

He understands the rhythms of history. He isn't surprised..I have to remind myself of this. At one point last week, I forgot this. 
My mind wanders often to the refugee situation. What would do? What should I do? I want a huge piece of property so I can have all of them....at least the children. I don't want anyone else to die. Enough already, right?
Then God came in to my aching heart and said something like, 

"I can take people away to a better place and although there is loss for those of you left, it's not surprising for me, and not for long. Here the sun is always shining and there's no tear in any eye. My presence is completely here and my promises are fulfilled. "

I think it's a trust issue...if we trust Him, we can be safe. If we trust Him, we are given peace. I though, get frustrated with what's not happening and think it's not going to work out well. I think I honestly don't see pain and suffering as normal, we see happiness and health as normal. I do.

Those little faces in pictures of kids sleeping in streets, whether it be now or 10 years ago, in Paris, Syria or the Philippines---I can't hack it. I feel guilty snuggling with my kids. I feel ashamed that I ever complained about, well, anything. I do honestly feel like if I could do something, then it would be better. And not outside of giving and praying and positioning myself to help and serve...but like if we could just quit our jobs and move there and hire a truck and get food and blankets...that I could hug them all and the bad guys would go away. 

A few years ago when we lived in the condominium in North Park, I found out that there were 4 sex offenders (1 on parol and 3 major) that lived IN MY COMPLEX. As in, 3 doors down, upstairs, down the hall. At first my heart raged...how could God let me buy in a neighborhood with those crazies? I have a baby! Then we moved to a different neighborhood by the beach...ahhh, away from the crazies...ahhh. Knock, knock. It's my neighbor to tell me that the guy a house down was just released. 

No bad guys can steal my Jesus. And if in the end, I die because of the bad guys, then I get to go be with the good guy. And my friends and family will be sad and sing great songs at my memorial service and I will wait for them where the mountains touch the sky, at the end of the rainbow, because I'm covered. I'm covered by His blood.

I want to trust Him.

Why Christmas?

http://www.ucg.org/the-good-news/the-top-10-reasons-why-i-dont-celebrate-christmas

My email is lisa.miller.a@gmail.com and I'd love to have a discussion about this with you. Do you agree/disagree?

I have a lot of friends who don't celebrate Christmas...friends who are near and dear. Sometimes I have a hard time articulating my thoughts on why I love Christmas. The past few years I've started doing different things for the holidays...things like resting more, reading to the kids more, ramble walking more, doing crafts intentionally and reading the bible to them. I realize it could be done as an act of worship around Easter. Somehow it seems more cozy at Christmas and more settled in my heart. When the temperature is 99 and I'm sweaty, it's almost like I don't feel like sitting and being and pondering. Another reason is that my very personality is all about party. I like being loud and fun and buying presents and being fun and loud and buying presents and being silly and joking loudly...how could I not do this in honor of Jesus...does he like it?

So, message me what you think. I really want my eyes to be more open.

Christmas booth, 2012

Outta here....

ALL I WANT TO TYPE IN CAPS OVER AND OVER IS THE FACT THAT WE'RE OUT OF THE HOSPITAL. WHAT A HARD WEEK. IT'S OVER. WE'RE GONNA GET BETTER NOW. I have the best, best friends in the whole world. or universe...I should include universe because they were extraterrestrial. Which, now that I'm a smart homeschool momma, I know that means, "out of" "earth". Yep. Me. Smart. Haa...

Please pray for my little one still. We have high white blood cell counts, inflamed abdomen still and low fever. So, no partying this week. But, we are OUT OF THE HOSPITAL. Oh, and did I mention..

WE


ARE

OUT

OF


THE


HOSPITALLLLLLLLLLL!!!!

By the way, please pray for my sweet friend Noel. She is needing miracles right now...she's still at the hospital.

Good Veterans Day Story

Mike Rowe

Say hi to Retired Staff Sargent Travis Mills, formerly of the 82nd Airborne, US Army.

As you can see, Travis has undergone a few structural modifications, most visibly in the leg department. Likewise, his left arm is more machine than flesh, and though his right arm appears to be around my waist, it really isn’t. Like the rest of his limbs, it’s been missing in action for some time.

I met Travis a few weeks ago in DC at The Science and Engineering Festival, and spent a half hour talking, mostly about Dirty Jobs. He wanted to tell me how much he and his buddies appreciated that show while on active duty. He wanted to know what it was like to work in so many “difficult and dangerous situations.”

Can you imagine? How exactly does one answer a question like that from a guy like this?

On the day we met, I was a little stressed out. I had just moderated a panel on the main stage, and I was rushing to the other end of the Convention Center to meet with a bunch of CEO’s to discuss mikeroweWORKS. I was late, and there were three-hundred and fifty thousand people between me and where I needed to go, all of whom wanted to say hello and take a photo. My security team was cutting a swath through the crowd, and I was trying very hard not to look like a complete douche. Then one of the event organizers ran over and grabbed my arm.

“Hey Mike, there’s a guy backstage who really wants to say hello.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “Tell him to get out here and do it.” I was walking fast, head down, determined to maintain forward momentum. If you stop in a situation like that, you never get started again.

“Well,” said the guy, “it would be easier if you came to him. It’ll just take a second.”

“Why? His legs broken?”

“Uhh...not exactly. But he’s just around the corner. I think he was in the war.”

I told the security guys to sit tight, and followed the guy down a long hallway, looking at my watch as we fast-walked into the backstage area. Then we ducked behind a blue curtain, and Travis Mills stood up to greet me. Actually, he kind of unfolded himself from a chair, and came toward me with a very wide smile. He then extended a prosthetic arm and offered a plastic hand, which I automatically shook.

“Mike Rowe! What an honor! I’m Travis Mills, and I’m very, very pleased to meet you.”

I’ve seen a lot of things over the years, and I’ve gotten good at pretending there’s nothing unusual when there clearly is. But I was completely unprepared for this.

“Ahh...shit,” I said. “What happened?”

“IED. Afghanistan.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.”

“No big deal. It’s been two years now. I’m good. Tell me something though - are you gonna do anymore Dirty Jobs?”

“Uhh...what?”

“Dirty Jobs, man! When are we gonna see some new ones?”

“Well Travis, that show was cancelled. I’m working on something new though that I think will be just as good. Maybe better.”

“Hey, that’s great! I got new legs and you got a new show! Tell me all about it!”

That’s how the conversation started. My show. My foundation. My book. Etc. But I eventually steered it back to him, and learned that Travis is one of only five quadruple amputees to survive that level of injury in the recent wars. He has a motto: Never Give Up - Never Quit. He has a Foundation. He’s featured in a new documentary. He also has a wife and a kid, and a deeply personal commitment to help other wounded Vets cope with their injuries. But when I asked why I hadn’t seen him in any of the typical commercials and PSA’s for wounded veterans, his answer was stunning. He said he didn’t consider himself to be wounded.

“I’m not a victim, Mike. And I refuse to be portrayed that way. Case closed.”

Fact is, Travis is missing more than a few original parts; he’s missing all traces of self-pity. And that’s presents a challenge for mortals like me. Because it’s a hell of a thing to feel put out because a crowd of fans are making me late for an important meeting, and then listen to a guy with no arms or legs tell me how lucky he is, and how much he appreciates all my hard work.

That’s called a gut-check, and I could use one from time to time. Especially on Memorial Day, when the biggest decisions I face are what to grill and which type of frosty beverage to enjoy. This year, as I resolve these and other important issues, I’ll think of Travis Mills. A guy who went out on a limb for me, in every way possible.

Thanks Travis.
And Happy Memorial Day to you all.

Mike

PS. His story is incredible. Check it out, if you have the time.
http://www.travismills.org/about/

Please pray

I'm really, really struggling today. I'm about to throw in the towel with homeschooling and tiny living and higher-calling motherhood. I haven't got what I thought, I got a big piece of bad news I wasn't expecting at all, I can't see my dreams coming true any time soon. I know what I should think but my heart is bursting with sadness, disappointment and defeat. I need you to pray because I don't know how. Thanks.

Time to Read! (and Share!)

Three years ago I began a tradition of beginning to simplify the week before Thanksgiving. Here are some simple things we do, along with some new books we will be reading to prep our hearts.

1. We copy advent verses beginning the first week of November. Since we are all about cursive in the house, I just print off verses like this, http://heartofwisdom.com/blog/free-bible-handwriting-worksheets/ .
2. We continue to read books and poems aloud (and to ourselves) This year I ordered/rented these (some are new to me, borrowed, or I already had them):

25 December Lane by Helen Ward
Carry On Mr. Bowditch
The Mitten by Jan Brett
The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree: an Appalachian Story
Harvey Slumfenburger's Christmas Present
Little One, We'd Knew You'd Come by Sally Lloyd Jones
Jesus Story book Bible
Book of Isaiah and Psalms and Daniel and Luke
Snowmen at Night
Dream Snow by Eric Carle
Advent Readings
Christmas Remembered by dePaola


It's not a completely spiritual list, but just books from different perspectives on why this time of cooling down, on multiple levels, can mean something special. I don't want this time of year to be different because of presents. I want this time of year to be a different rhythm. I want the time to introduce new ideas and the space to discuss that. Some of these books are written for little ones, but I still enjoy the pictures and the creativity, and I'm 43~

If you have a great Christmas book, or just a holiday book about seasons or rhythms during this time, will you PLEASE share it with me?! I LOVE books.

Christmas Tree on the porch due to limited space...Chase Ray excited about the rain!

Dealing With Conflict...wow.

http://journeycommunitychurch.com/2015/wisdom-conflict-inevitable-carnage-optional/

Tidings of Comfort and Joy! (another long ramble)

sometimes the amount of information spinning in my brain is overwhelming. how many people am i? in my dream world, i'm a different lady with different aspirations and ideas. in my wake state, i ponder so many things that i wish it could stop. i analyze everything, over and over and over again. and then i do it again, just to make sure. i can talk a lot and i can be very quiet for a long time. when i'm being quiet is when i'm deciding who i'm going to be and what i'm going to decide on making matter.
(yes, i'm going to try not to use the caps/shift button today as my thumbs ache..more on that later)...
i've had a vomiting child who has missed the toilet for the last 2 days. he's old enough not to miss but is hardly ever, ever sick (maybe the last time was a year and a half ago?) and even if he's under the weather, he acts almost normal. my life has been about cooking and cleaning--so i clean up after him, grateful that i can and grateful that he is hardly ever, ever sick. i couldn't really even leave the house as i wasn't sure what might happen. i was brought back to when i was very sick with my pregnancies...where normal was in my bed or in the bathroom. people took care of me, life dripped by at half a droplet an hour. i was not contributing to any forward movement, not even my bowels. there was no spunk or extroverted anything. i'm grateful for this morning--it is cool and i can clean and scrub, even if my thumb pain eventually reminds me to slow down. oh, my thumbs...yes, i told you i'd talk a bit about them. i haven't gone to the doc as i've been using our extra funds on fake teeth and bumpy mole removal costs. i just cannot do much manual scrubbing...dishes, vacuuming, baseboard dusting. when i do, the next day only my other 4 fingers work, but my thumbs are in excruciating pain.i'll keep you updated on that as i get up the desire to spend money on copays versus cortados.
today i'm reminded of the power of prayer. i've had some emotional bumps this past month...things have not gone the way i wanted them to. but not in a bad way, just in an unexpected way. i thought we would have a cute christmas card to deliver to ya'll with a photo of the light streaming in through the trees of us at our new property. nope. i thought i'd have moved out of this little apartment and been in a trailer or in another state or city or region with some plans being analyzed on house building. nope. i thought i would have the same friends but some new ones and some very old ones i haven't talked with in a while blessed me. score. i had no idea that God was getting ready to bless me and bring comfort and joy through my persistent-God-fearing husband. score. (on a sex side note, ya know what they say about having to play the quiet game and what it might produce...)score. i had no idea what cutting out a LOT would create for our family. relationship space.
Do I want to live in an apartment where the grumpy neighbor comes out and stares at us, rolls his eyes and then grunts and re-enters his hole? Nope. But would I live here, in this state of space and process and prayer..yep.
i'm learning Latin. it is hard but enlightening. this week's "ah ha" moment came through this translation--wound. that's the meaning for the word "vulneris". bet you know where i'm going with this..yep, vulnerable. i've identified with this word...i have a little wound..i'm being vulnerable..with you, with God, with our situation not being exactly what i wanted it to be. but it's a good thing. i don't know how else to say it. it's comforting to know that i have something that's not going the way i want it to go because then when something happens differently (healing in many ways/areas), i'll know it's God--I'll be able to give him the credit for the working out all things for His good/our good. and this brings me great comfort and joy! bless you friend.

 chase ray, age 3

blows my mind

I've seen the pictures on Pinterest of long tables and little lights with beautiful things carefully poised on the table with meticulous care. There are usually beautiful people laughing and it seems too real to be true.

I'm not sure how good friends happen. I've poured my heart and soul into friendships that have ended confusingly. I have also casually added care to friendships that continue to thrive. I'm not sure what the formula is, completely. But here are some gifts that my friends have recently give to me:
Patience and discernment. I've been the recipient of friends lately who seem to have the spreadsheet of how the relationship is going to go. They are the ones leading me...they are willing and ready to allow me to wisen up or even just sit where I'm at until I feel brave enough to move.
Bold and Brave...last night I was one of the guests at the most beautiful feast I might have ever been to. Several of the women gave me such a gift of bravity (is that a word?) as they shared their journeys and their decisions to deal with the dark stuff.
Laughter...you know that feeling when someone laughs at your joke? Isn't it so reassuring?
I'm so grateful for old friends and new...friends who are willing to go deep into their own insecurities and fears and face the trials of life. Grateful for people who are willing to forgive, to own their own stuff and accept that God is moving and changing someone so they can accept and embrace.

How refreshing to sit around a table and hear where friends are really at..and I really don't know fully understand what that formula is for maintaining and being a good friend except this...a good friend is always working at changing themselves. They are on a journey with God and that is their primary focus. Then it starts to ooze out on me...those good gifts overflow on to me and I want to be better.

Thank you God today for good food, twinkling lights and in-laws patios and for the gifts of soul healing.

Circus

Chase Ray- "Mom, you're as entertaining as a circus except without the dangerous animals."

Reminiscing

So apparently, I've told everyone I don't really believe in Halloween or celebrate it but I kept coming across pictures of my kids dressed up for different fall activities. So, maybe I'm confused, a sucker for a sucker or maybe we all look good in orange, so it's a perfect season? Maybe all three!

Here are some past pics of our family from fall time. It's very good for my soul to sit and reminisce. Happy Fall!

 Eating his first candy.

 This was so fun having pacifiers with words and images on them. Now they are very easy to purchase but 8 or 9 years ago, they were very unique.

 He wanted to dress up with the bandaids. He isn't 2 years old yet in this photo.

 My little conductor. This is my littlest.

 He went into the lobby of our condo and would greet people as they came in. There were 104 homes and he just stood at the front saying hi to everyone dressed like this one day. The glove was 80 sizes too big. Isn't this just magical?

When I dance, I do look like this. Plus, if you're in a cold place and you wear sweaters, it keeps ya warm while dancing.

https://www.facebook.com/hintmag/videos/10156146967085261/?fref=nf

Snuggle

This is how we did some review this morning. Even if it was very short lived. Skye captured this shot. They just are growing and while I love it, I still want to snuggle...a lot.

Wishy washy

It's not like there was an elephant in the room. It was more like the feeling of a toilet that's leaking water and you know something needs to be tightened up.
Our time practicing small living has not been like a movie, well mostly.

Let's start with the most fun. Love making has been more creative. Right now my sister is again, wishing she didn't know me! You have to make it a priority whether you have 2,000 square feet or 600. (not sure how big this place is...I've heard a little less than 6 and a little more...) Fortunately, because I've been a strict nighttime enforcer (not as compassionate during the evening hours about getting out of bed for every possible emotion you have and expecting me to do something about it--you're fine, you're fed, you're awesome, you're tired, go back in there) and because I'm with them all day, when 8pm hits, I'm more of the substitute teacher...there if you need me but only for dire emergencies...haaaa.
Another fun part of this exercise has been the amount of time I've created. By eliminating my stuff and my need to clean my stuff, I have time. This month, we've added 2 service projects for church. It was so great to do this together.
A third fun part has been the sleeping together. I had to add this one as the first point might have diminished my credibility. (the one about being the strict bedtime lady). Many nights, we are resting in our beds together (sometimes holding hands---don't roll your eyes!) talking and magically a big, huge wash of contentment floods over me. We have one full bed (double) and one and a half twins. I say one and a half because one of the twin mattresses is stuffed under my frame as the whole thing couldn't fit. It's been my favorite part about this little space. The blankets are abundant, the air conditioning strong and we all cozy in and I can almost hear Pa from Little House on the Prairie praying a blessing over us. Everyone has their own little space, cozy comforter and 3 pillows each (that's one thing we do big over here, tons of pillows). Because hubby is up very early for work, he's often in bed early and asks me to join in the snuggle.
Because we came in with hardly any clothes or shoes, keeping the laundry going has been manageable. I like doing laundry, so that's been fun. I'm using the complex washateria/laundromat. Sometimes I get grossed out thinking of Punjar's international underwear having just been washed before my perfect rose smelling underclothes enters THE SAME SPACE...but then I just trust Charlie's laundry soap to take away all prejudices and stains.
Cooking and storage of some Costco items has been a challenge and on a couple occasions, the big box of freeze dried fruit is on the floor in the kitchen. The dishwasher hasn't worked for a month and a half and so I just have to stay on top of that, otherwise I can get really tempted.

So back to the elephant and the toilet. Each time we have to sit and talk as a couple, which has been pretty rare these past 3 weeks as he has been at work on the weekends too and late nights, I expect him to deliver a grand perfect plan to me in the evenings as we talk and drink tea. It's almost as if he doesn't want to begin the same conversation we've been having that ebs and flows. Last night it went like this.

It sounds stupid now that I'm writing it, but if I'm honest, I want it. I want an attainable, rational task sheet handed to me that I can tackle and manage and execute.

Last night he didn't give it to me and I was so frustrated.I was almost worse than a 3 year old crying over the blue cup instead of the desired yellow one.
I want land.
I want a small, custom house.
I want an art/media studio separate from the house.
I want land.
I want water.
I want roaming room.
I want a different job for him with less hours and more pay (?)...yes, I want this.
I want to live by my family.
I want to live by my friends. (who live more than a thousand miles apart from each other)
I want coffee on a porch.
I want a porch. I want a porch.
I want to sell groceries I've grown at a farmers market and
I want to buy coffee beans from the same market thats
down the road a bit on my bike that I ride with a basket attached.
I need it to happen now so that my 12 1/2 year old doesn't grow up in an apartment in the city (this would be bad, in my opinion... ;)

I then had to painstakingly walk through WHAT I KNOW TO BE TRUE.

I trust God. I trust God and I trust God.
He is a good father.
He knows the plan.
He has the timing figured out.
He is trustworthy.
(Then husband reminded me) "He will work out details in a way that we can certainly know it was God. We cannot rush this Lisa. We've asked to do something different and now we practice it.
He is good. He knows us."
He is faithful.

I threw myself down on the couch and began to cry. He asked if I wanted a blanket---I abruptly said no (because when you are having a temper tantrum anything anyone asks, you tend to give an abrupt answer---it's almost allowed, almost) He then turned off the light and went to bed. "Come on Lisa, come to bed..." he whispered. The old me might have gotten even more frustrated, but I am practicing WHAT I KNOW TO BE TRUE. He loves me and he loves me.

I changed into my ugly, decent, you-live-with-almost-teenage-boys pajamas, huffed as I almost slammed my head down into my pillow. He reached over and began to whisper, "shhh, give it to God, shhh" as he rubbed my wrinkled wet brow. I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. My emotions will eventually catch up. This isn't like the movies. This isn't going according to my plan. And I'm almost ready to say "yeah!"...almost...

Stronghold

When am I going to post a picture of our little abode and what we are doing next? I wonder...perhaps another day. Today I have something pretty pressing on my mind.

In the last couple years, and I really mean somewhere between 2-4 years, I have not been a good friend performer. I've had some complaints and apparently would not have been given the 4% obligatory raise. I've also had some praises...but it's the complaints that bother me.

I'm an intense, ESFJ with strengths of focus, responsibility, interpersonal communication, belief...all packed in to a flighty, tattered (at times) homeschool mom. (Don't feel sorry for me, just know the struggle is real folks, the struggle is real---would you want to be an "E,S"?)
This is why FB didn't really work well for me..well, one of the many reasons.
In my recent years of coming to know God in a way that's calm and quiet and peaceful and gentle, I'm changing. And I've noticed that God is taking care of strongholds that used to own me. Yesterday Jess reminded me of the idea that prayer isn't much talking as listening (she's really good at that). I've done a LOT of talking...and I think in this have really knocked some friends out of our ring.(grr...)

A stronghold, as defined by Beth Moore, is any argument or pretension that sets itself up again the knowledge of God...it's anything that

exalts itself
in our minds
pretending to be bigger
or more powerful
than our God.

it steals our focus
causes us to feel overpowered.
Controlled.
Mastered.

She goes on to say that strongholds can be addictions, unforgiveness, despair over loss.

It consumes a lot of our mental energy
our emotional energy
IT STRANGLES our abundant life. STRANGLES...

For me, this was my stuff. For me, this was a couple relationships that I was LIVING FOR. If these couple people said something, I listened to them more than to God. If these people asked for something, I figured out a way to make it happen. If these people fussed, I tried to make things right. If these people said I was something, I WAS THAT thing. I realized that these people were sort of my goal. Ouch.

I realized too that I am to be accountable for being too harsh, or too proud or too this or too that, I am also ALLOWED to be human. I don't need to always have perfect delivery. I am allowed to be awkward and not always have it.

But I am also required to be still. I am also required to be known. I am also required to not put others above a God who can figure all things out for good. He has the power to break the Lisa chains of "you should have said" "you didn't say" "you might have just shut up"s, "just say sorry again"s in my life.

And as I sit still before Him, he can work these things out.

It's very uncomfortable here on the floor, sitting criss cross applesauce (or indian style as I used to be allowed to say), hands open, mouth shut up for a bit. And I pray...

Welcome Back! Hi! It's really me.

Early morning. Phone face is bright. Check time, 0500. Loudly, sprinklers misting.
Is it going to be sunny (again)? It's too dark to tell.
Morning quickie and snuggles before the kids awake.
Fan blowing cool air loudly in through the one window. Restroom break. Find slippers and don't walk too noisy on "hard woods".
He is in the shower, I'm getting something warm for my throat. Costa Rican coffee beans right now that my friend sent me.
I remember! Friday! and a new milk steamer...ahhhh. (http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/williams-sonoma-by-caso-milk-frother/?pkey=cview-all-sale%7Call-sale%7C&&cview-all-sale|all-sale|)
Bird starts to chirp...shhh! bird, they are sleeping.
Milk poured into frother/steamer and ahh! it's so quiet. Stove pot is steaming with heated coffee. Add it together and sit down to pray.
He comes out smiling, tells me he loves me, that it's payday and that he's going to order a bacon egg and cheese sandwich at work deli. Kiss. Smile. Keys. Briefbag. Clunk, clunk shoes on. Door closes and locks.
Quiet. Prayer. Concerns. Friend in hospital, family members pushing in on the corners. Released. Listen then babble, listen then bab....nod...I'll just close my eyes for a minute.

Content. Completely content wrapped up in his protection.
Helps that my baseboards are clean. It's going to be a great day.