From Faith to Fear...and Back Again~

Here we are again...the day my son was born, but no cake and candles to celebrate what would be his 14th birthday.  

Here we are again...the day of his death, the same day as his birth...painful...tears still spill...heart still hurts.

If he had a tombstone, there would be no dash between the dates...there were no days lived here on earth...only 100 minutes...only minutes~

Elijah in Steve's arms~

I've written about Elijah many times, but I haven't gone into great detail about some of the darker corners of my experience with grief...I thought I'd change that with this post.  This is a story I can tell because, by the glorious grace of God, I'm well on the other side now.  This is a story I can tell because my God rescued me...restored me...He is the Redeemer~
 
Faith is something that Steve and I felt like God lavished on us while I was pregnant with Elijah, during his birth and death, and even in the raw months afterwards.  It wasn't easy...at all...but somehow we survived.

I know it was and is God who made us survivors.  It was absolutely Him...left to myself I would have crumpled up and quit living.  But God gave us a desire to keep living, to protect our marriage, and to keep fighting for our faith. 

I don't know how to describe it other than sometimes I felt like it would dishonor God and our son's memory if I let grief overcome me...if I let it defeat me.  There was no way I was interested in letting death have the last say.

This doesn't mean that it was easy...it was hard and got harder.  In the beginning, I continued to feel and know God's closeness...His comfort...His protection.  Even in the desperate questions and pleas for understanding, I felt my Lord.  Even in the tears cried in the darkness, I knew His presence.

But somewhere along the path of grief, I lost my footing.  It was so subtle at first...I didn't even notice.  I was so determined to not let grief win that I began to rely on my own determination and will power instead of the faith that my Lord had provided.  

I began to linger over my questions in a way that caused me to examine every thought and prayer and to try to figure out what I had done wrong...why had Elijah died?  Did I not pray enough?  Did I not have enough faith?  Was I being punished?  Why did Steve have to suffer if I had caused this?  How can God be glorified when a baby dies?  Wasn't God all powerful?  Is it okay to be disappointed with God?  Wouldn't God have been glorified if Elijah had miraculously been healed?  Why hadn't He done it then?  What could God do that would make losing Elijah seem worth it?  Was I going to be a bad mom and Elijah was actually being spared from me?  Was I so horrible that this is what God had to use to change me, to refine me, to draw me to Him?  

And for me, the worst question to consider...

Who else was going to die?

Honestly, I think most of those questions and others that I asked were normal and not dangerous by themselves...I think they were part of the process.  What was dangerous, though, was how I began to reflect everything inward...how I began to accuse myself...and how I began to accuse my Lord instead of continuing to look to Him.  It was the subtle beginning of a very dark journey...an intimate walk with fear~

Before I go any further, I want to share that I was aware of truth and had a decent understanding of theology, but my emotions and my mind seemed to be disconnected.  I was aware that many of my thoughts were irrational, yet I couldn't seem to control them, let alone change them.  I was aware that my Lord is good, caring, honorable, compassionate, yet I felt like I had lost my ability to trust Him personally.  Also, none of this happened over night...it was a slow, painful struggle that was years in the making. 

The more I struggled with my faith, the more I dug in to things that I thought reflected a woman of faith...involved at church, involved in bible studies, etc.  I was also determined to keep living and enjoying life.  I love being in nature (and we lived in Colorado) so Steve and I spent a lot of time biking and hiking and enjoying God's creation.  I was determined to be victor in a strange battle that I thought I could control.

I began to struggle with prayer.  I thought my prayers didn't count or couldn't be heard or wouldn't be considered by God.  My experience told me I didn't pray well enough or long enough or earnestly enough.  If something was important to me, I asked Steve to pray...I knew my prayers were pointless.    

One of the ways I "controlled" my faith was to not give voice to the things that scared me the most...I never articulated the words that would reveal my darkest fears.  I was afraid my fear would grow if I acknowledged it aloud, so I determined to control it through silence.  I was afraid I would somehow cause my fears to become reality if I ever used audible words to describe the dark places my thoughts took me.

I was afraid Steve would die~


At first, Steve and I thought we wanted to try pretty quickly after Elijah died to have another baby, but then I decided that I didn't want to have any more kids because then I could control who else might die.  Another baby couldn't die if I simply didn't have any more.  I carefully crafted my pitch to Steve and presented my plan to focus on a career and the fabulous lifestyle we could have and all the amazing traveling we could do if we didn't have any more children.  Steve kindly listened and simply disagreed with my plan...he was kind and gentle as he told me we didn't have to have kids right away, but he didn't think not having any was a good plan.  I remember having a mix of emotions to his reaction...thankful for his understanding and gentle patience, yet worried because I realized how much he wanted more kids and I wasn't sure I did anymore.

September 11, 2001 changed much of how I felt about having kids.  When the attacks first happened, I was sure it was better to not have children who would have to grow up in this world.  But those events also caused me to consider what I truly valued and the possibility of more children became important to me again.  We became pregnant with our beautiful Isabella in the fall.

To say I was scared during that pregnancy would be an understatement.  We were so excited, yet I was very frightened.  My doctors kept an extra close watch on me during that pregnancy.  It was a tremendous relief when all looked well via ultrasound.  But that pregnancy also began another dangerous journey...I ate my way through my emotions...a destructive habit I'm still recovering from.

Isabella arrived in July 2002...her birth was an amazing experience.  It was both beautiful and overwhelming to walk out of that hospital with our new daughter...my arms full of love instead of empty. 

Pregnancy hormones are already a lot to handle...and postpartum hormones can be tough too.  I'm pretty sure hormones deeply affected some of my experiences and may have even exaggerated some of my grief.

I remember sometimes being amazed and delighted by Bella and then crushed as I realized even more all that Steve and I missed and would continue to miss with Elijah.  I would marvel at how she was an amazing blessing from God and then rage at God over the loss of our son.

I was deeply afraid Isabella would die too~

Here's an example of how strangely fear was gripping me.  The first time I flew with Isabella was beyond frightening to me.  I was afraid something bad would happen...even though I had never been afraid of flying before.  I specifically worried that the top of the fuselage would come off mid-flight and I wouldn't be able to hold Bella tightly enough to keep her from flying out of the airplane.  I spent time planning my holding techniques, trying to determine if I should keep her attached to me the whole time or if she'd be safer strapped into her car seat, wondering if a Baby Bjorn would be enough to keep her from getting sucked away.  And I was aware that this was all irrational, but I still tried to figure out how to manage this fictional situation.  It almost seems laughable now, but at the time, I was very serious.  Nevermind the fact that IF something like that happened, we were all going to perish anyway.

I stayed home with her for 12 weeks and then went back to work part time.  Part of me wanted to stay home with her, but another part of me was simply afraid of the responsibility of caring for her.  When I examined my track record of caring for my kids, the stats weren't very good...50/50 for keeping them alive.  I honestly thought she was in safer hands being cared for by someone else for part of the day.   

Sniffles made me nervous, colds scared me, and I barely held it together when Bella was diagnosed with pneumonia at 9 months old.  Any sickness caused panic and I took her to the pediatrician a lot.  I was aware that I was more afraid than would be considered normal, yet I couldn't make the fear go away.  Our pediatrician was very understanding and so kind.  When Bella turned one, I told her that I was aware that I was a very nervous mom and had decided to not bring Bella to see her for every little thing...she agreed it was a good idea.  A small victory in my battle with fear.

Isabella's bout with pneumonia had caused us concern...enough for me to plan to quit my job.  I gave notice and began staying home full time right before Bella's first birthday.  Another victory. 

But fear continued its ugly assault.  I became even more scared of Steve dying...I was especially worried about a car accident scenario.  I was afraid every morning when he went to work and every evening when he drove home.  If Steve was late getting home from work, he would find me angry instead of welcoming.  I was angry because I was afraid, but I wouldn't share my fear because I wouldn't speak about it because then it might happen.  Instead I would tell him he was inconsiderate and lecture him about how easy it would have been to simply use his phone to call me to let me know he was on his way or when he would be home.  I was angry because I had planned his funeral in the time I had waited for him. 

I began to think about death a lot.  I never felt suicidal, but I often wished I could die (or that Jesus would hurry up and return).  I believed Isabella would be okay without me...I didn't feel like a very good mom...Steve was (and is) an incredible father.  I wanted to be with Elijah and I just didn't want to hurt anymore.  I knew Elijah didn't need me...he was in heaven, after all.  It's strange to write about this because it seems really foreign that I ever even thought like this...I'm so thankful that God didn't leave me in the darkness.

And my struggle with faith seemed to just keep getting worse...and fears kept growing.  I was doing the things I thought I should be doing...still going to church, still attending bible studies.  At one point, I was even leading a bible study.  I felt like I was trying my hardest to get close to God again, yet He was elusive despite my moral and religious effort.  Questions constantly swirled in my mind and I felt like answers never came.  I did not feel at all like I was being fake...I honestly felt like I was trying hard to get back to a place of faith where I had been before.  I was actually pretty honest with others about some parts of my grief...the struggles I had with prayer and questions about God's ways, my disappointment in how He had "handled" Elijah, and the ups and downs I felt.    

Yet I would not speak about fear.  I would not speak about the things I was afraid of the most.  I would not share how it woke me at night and worried me in the day.  Even Steve had no idea how dark my thoughts were.  
 
And then I had a miscarriage in the fall of 2003.  My tiny little remnants of faith shattered down around me.  They turned into sharp, ugly shards which cut and dug into me.  

I was undone...and I was done with God.  

And that's how I spent the next year...disappointed in God, very fearful, questioning everything I thought I believed.  I wanted to be around people of faith, so I still went to church.  Participating in worship was painful and I usually cried through most of it.  I still took notes and learned from the sermons, but only in an academic sense.  Rarely did I "feel" like God was interested in me.  It's weird, because I still believed He cared for others, heard their prayers, was sovereign over events...but He wasn't personal to me anymore.  I felt like He was still all I thought Him to be...but only to others...none of Him applied to me...I felt like I was far from His care or concern.  I'm aware that this doesn't even make sense...yet it's the best I can do to describe the disconnect.

We learned we were pregnant with our sweet Sophia in the fall of 2004.  I was nervous...again.  And I began crying...a lot.  Yes, pregnancy hormones sure can do a number on a woman...but I was crying all the time.  I clearly remember sitting on the floor one evening with a box of tissues, crying...grieving about how I wasn't the Christian I wanted to be...nor the wife, the mom, the daughter, the sister, or even the friend I wanted to be.  I saw with crystal clear realization that I was an emotional, spiritual, and physical mess...I knew my faith was in shambles, I knew my "moral work" was not fixing anything, I knew my fears had grown into a destructive force, I knew I could not hold it together any more...I knew I needed help.  

I told Steve I thought I should see a counselor.  It was one of the best decisions I've ever made.  I began seeing Pam Pedrow, a counselor at our church's counseling center, soon afterward.  She is a blessing and a gift and I am deeply grateful to God for her and her ministry.

I don't remember everything about my meetings with Pam, but I kept a journal during those times that reflected what I was struggling with and what she was helping me work through.  I do remember the first time that I shared with her that I was aware that fear had grown and twisted into a destructive force (it was in our 1st or 2nd meeting).  I knew I had to say the words that scared me the most.  I remember crying so hard that it was hard to speak and breathe, but I finally got the words out.  To me, they hung there in that room like physical vapors...and then a gentle breeze came through and they swirled and dissipated and disappeared.  They were gone...and so was their power.   My own silence had given them their power...I felt betrayed by myself...I had been deceived.  That day I learned that fear and deception are some of the enemy's favorite tools.  I also learned that secrets and silence are favorite tactics of his too.  Fearful silence...a dangerous combination...one I try not to practice.

One thing that I loved about counseling was that it was Pam's job and ministry...she was trained and experienced in knowing how to truly listen and help.  She was not a friend who I felt like I was burdening or upsetting...although she became a friend through the counseling process :)  

Pam and I discussed many, many, many, many other parts of my experience with grief and its effects.  She was especially helpful in showing me that our Lord heard my prayers.  During one session when I was sharing about my questions and struggles with prayer, she simply asked me to think about Jesus physically sitting with me and listening to me.  Did I believe he was shaking his head at my inability to get the words just right?  Did I believe that he withheld Elijah's healing because he was waiting for me to be more eloquent or more passionate?  Did I believe he was frustrated because he wanted to heal Elijah, but couldn't unless I said the proper words?  Of course not!  Prayer is not like trying to cast a spell!  Once again, God used Pam to bring clarity...I clearly saw how my own thoughts and questions had become twisted and the damage they had done.

Pam was also very, very helpful in reminding me that God counted my tears...that He intimately understood the entire situation and He cared deeply about it...He grieved with me.  She was instrumental in me understanding and believing and experiencing God's personal love and care again...and to understand that He had always been there.  I was able to clearly see the ugly and damaging twists in my grief and pain and to cry to God in repentance and for restoration.  And He was faithful...as He always has been and will be.

I met with Pam for a few months...I was a renewed and restored person by the time our sessions ended.  Fear had done some major damage to the relationships that I loved the most...God, Steve, and Bella especially.  So much restoration took place during and after my time with Pam.  I was bonding with Bella in a stronger, healthier way and I was simply more pleasant and loving with Steve...all because fear no longer had a strong grip on me.  God used Pam in a mighty way and I am forever grateful.  

There are some parts of grief that never go away...I guess that's just how it is. I've continued to experience ups and downs in this journey.  Sometimes I still question and still struggle...I often wish I could just know why.  I miss my son.  

But being on the other side of this experience with fear has taught me to continue to turn to God, to be honest with my Lord...He has lavished me with much grace and comfort.  I am thankful that other parts of this grief simply don't feel as raw. 

The scars are there, but a scar shows that there has been healing...and, dare I say, some of them have become beautiful.  My God is in the business of renewing and restoring...He is THE REDEEMER~

"I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears." Psalm 34: 4

"Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!  He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him." Psalm 126: 5-6

These words from Isaiah are comforting and full of hope.
"...to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion—to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;"  Isaiah 61: 2-3

"I will turn their mourning into joy;  I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow." Jeremiah 31:13

Thanks for reading...hug your family~

Rachel~
   

Furniture Makeovers~

You probably know that I have an eclectic decorating style and I like to mix styles too.  You may also know that I love incorporating antique pieces into my mix and I also get a kick out of rescuing or repurposing old pieces.  And you probably also know that I love adding punches of bright color here and there.

And my girls, by default (and sometimes by Mom's overriding decisions) have embraced some of my style :)

We let the girls pick their own room colors last summer (as long as Steve and I liked the colors too) and we got their rooms painted last summer.  Bella's room is light turquoise and Sophia chose apple green.  Luckily, Bella didn't have any pieces that she wanted painted or needed to be redone in order to use.  Since then, I've been slowly getting parts of Sophia's room to come together by repainting and repurposing some furniture.

Sophia had a tall highboy dresser that had been mine when I first moved out of my parent's home.  It was a great piece, but it was tall and she couldn't reach half the drawers...we were just making it work until we could get this beast redone.

It wasn't in the greatest shape~

Transformation has begun~

Steve and I rescued this piece from the garbage.  Yep, our neighbor in PA had put it out on the curb for the garbage men to haul off.  We asked if we could have it and happily brought it home to live in our garage...I LOVE FREE FURNITURE!  We moved it to TX and finally, this past spring, I began the process of making it pretty and useable for our sweet Sophia.

It's not a perfect piece...had some damage to a drawer that my hot handyman, Steve, was able to fix.  It needed new hardware, and still has some bumps and bruises...but this baby is solid wood and all dovetail joints...it's really a beautiful piece.  I knew that the condition it was in meant that I was not going to be stripping it and staining it...I was definitely NOT interested in that kind of work...so it got painted instead.  

I cleaned it the best I could, sanded it, put a couple coats of primer on it, and then painted it.  One thing I was not prepared for was how many coats of paint it needed.  We chose a favorite shade of white (Moonlight White by Behr) and decided to add an accent color that would compliment Sophia's green walls...Glazed Raspberry (by Behr) is what we chose.  Some of the original hardware was broken, so I let Sophia pick out new knobs and pulls.  She also picked out a stencil that I added to the side.  

Progress~

The project was a bigger pain than I had anticipated and I learned that I am no good at stenciling.  You don't get a close up of the cute bird stencil because it looks like I did it after a couple glasses of wine...come to think of it, I should have celebrated with a glass or two after this was done :)  But I really love the finished piece...and so does Sophia :)

LOVE the finished dresser...the colors are so pretty in her green room!

Late this summer I began the project of turning this old desk hutch into a book and display shelf for Sophia.  

 

Just starting the primer...no shelves added yet~

We bought this poor ugly thing at a thrift store last summer for $20...I knew I could bring it new life!  It had a glossy finish and even though I tried to use a liquid furniture stripper, I could barely get the original paint to degloss....I'm sure it was user error, but it was frustrating.  So I gave this piece many coats of primer too and then many coats of paint.  

I love how this piece turned out, but I may never do a project quite like this again.  See those little mail slots (remember, it's a desk hutch)...they were a PAIN to paint!  I had to get a special short handled brush and could only paint two interior sides at a time because the brush handle would touch the side opposite where I was painting.  Seriously, what was I thinking!  And painting the accent color was a bit trickier than I had anticipated also.  I finally just got tired of painting...my solution for painting the furniture feet was to just dip them in the paint can :)

I got tired of painting...dipping worked~

Steve, my hot handyman, added two shelves...the bottom and middle ones.  And he added the cute little painted ball feet...and voila, Sophia has a new bookshelf :) 

The finished piece...ready for Sophia's room~

Steve is moving it upstairs tonight...Sophia will be so happy to have a place for some of her things again :)  And I'm so happy that I'm done with painting projects for a while :)

Here's to a little hard work, a lot of painting, and a bit of creativity~

Rach

Getting Back To It~

I've missed writing, recording, documenting...I didn't mean to neglect my blog...and my thoughts...and just generally recording life.  Looking back, I think I just got a bit overwhelmed with our move to Texas and then got into the habit of not writing as much...and there are a few other things I've been focusing my time and energy on as well. 

And let's face it...life is busy...but I'm tired of that excuse...because, that's all it is...an excuse.  Everyone's busy to some extent.
 
Well, I've decided to pursue more writing and blogging again.  Especially in light of this interesting article about writers.

I've been thinking about busyness a lot lately as I read this book, Crazy Busy by Kevin DeYoung.  I'm also reading a couple books on prayer that dovetail nicely with the themes in this book.  

As I've been reflecting on the pattern of busyness in my life, I've become convinced that not having enough time is not as big a problem as how I manage the time I do have.  It's back to that simple, but true, example of an empty jar and various rocks, gravel, and sand that represents a day and the things we must and want to accomplish.  This great visual requires the bigger, more important, "rocks" to be put in before the rest can be filled with gravel and sand.  If the little stuff goes in first, there will not be enough room for the more important things.  It's such an easy concept...but can be hard to put into practice.

I was also struck by the simplicity and power of a truth I found in D. A. Carson's book, A Call To Spiritual Reformation...one of the books on prayer I mentioned earlier.  Are you ready for it?  

Much praying is not done because we do not plan to pray.

There it is...so very, very, very simple...yet so very, very, very true!  And as I read more about this truth in his book, I was struck by how true it is for anything that I consider important.

Much Bible study is not done because we do not plan to study.
Much serving of others is not done because we do not plan to serve.
Much exercising is not done because we do not plan to exercise.
Much writing is not done because we do not plan to write. 
Much reading is not done because we do not plan to read.
Much playing with our kids is not done because we do not plan to play.
Much relationship building is not done because we do not plan to pursue friendships.
Much healthy eating is not done because we do not plan to eat healthy.
Much pursuit of dreams is not done because we do not plan to pursue.

What is important to me?  How do I want to be spending my time?  What absolutely requires my attention?  What areas of interest do I want to find more time for?  Who do I want to be spending my time with?  

These are the types of questions I've been thinking a lot about lately.  I rarely (maybe never) feel like I have all the time I want, so obviously I must prioritize. 

As a home schooler, lots of my time is spent planning, preparing, teaching, tutoring, and grading.  Grading...let me just interject that I'm only grading for 2 students and I find it tedious, time consuming, and loathsome...my teacher friends have even more of my respect for the stacks of student papers and tests they keep up with.  Anyway, school takes up tremendous amounts of my time.  Teaching our kids at home is something Steve and I feel led to do by our Lord and, while it can be hard, we love it and don't foresee a change at this time...although there are days that I find myself open to boarding school ;)

Caring for my family and our home requires a lot of my time and energy.  We all know it's not easy...I have yet to meet any wife or mom who is able to spend time on the couch eating bonbons.  I've also come to the point where I just have to be okay with some things not being as orderly as I like...plus I'm blessed with 3 kids, one of whom is an energetic, feisty 3 year old...need I say more?

But these are things that most of us can relate to...work, school, family, home.  

Where is God in all this?  Do I just "fit Him in" where I can?  Is that how I want my relationship with my Lord to be...just "fitting Him in"?  What does God think of my other areas of interest? How do I find time for very important things? 

For me, He's in my blessing to be a wife and mom and in my call to home school...He surrounds those things and all the other aspects of my life.  As a Christian, I believe my Lord is with me in all these areas.  Yet, I am acutely aware that I want more...more and deeper prayer, more time spent in His word, deeper relationship with Him.

I want more of my God.

I thank God for this desire for more...I know it's from Him...because left to myself, I'd just fritter away the time I do have.

And what about the other things on my list?  More writing, more time for friends, more art projects, more exercising?  God is helping me "make a plan".  He is showing me where I do have time, where I can save time by organizing, and where to "create" time.  And to be honest, I'm simply choosing to be more purposeful with the "spare moments" I do have.  

He's also showing me some things that might not get as much attention as I'd like...some areas of interest where some sacrificing needs to take place.  I want to be doing what He wants me to be doing and I believe that He will continue to lead me and reveal things to me as I spend time with Him.  I believe He has a plan and a purpose and I want to be where He intends.

"For I know that plans I have for you, declares the Lord..." Jeremiah 29:11  

I imagine you've heard this verse before.  It's a great verse and it is true, but it's often quoted with an encouraging emphasis on the latter part of the verse, which states "...plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."  But I've been considering the beginning of the verse...God does know the plans He has for me.  He has purposeful plans.

"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."  Ephesians 2: 10

More promise of God's intentional and purposeful plans...I'm thankful for this truth from God's Word.  

Now, before you think I've got it all figured out and I'm ready to write the next bestseller about time management, just know that I don't...far from it...don't ask me how long it's been since I mopped (or vacuumed, for that matter)...floors are NOT my favorite!  

Getting up earlier (than I'd like) is one area where I've been able to "create" time...my alarm goes off at 5:30 and I'm usually up before 6...c'mon, you hit the snooze button too :)  The earlier mornings are still hard for me (I've never been a "morning person" and I may never be ...hence my obsession with coffee!).  But, by the grace of God, I do see progress.  

I also see wisdom in not over planning...in not packing my days so full that if even one unexpected thing pops up, then something else has to go...because my sad default has been to spend less time with my Lord when that happens.  Kevin DeYoung calls it planning with margin...with room for the unexpected.  I'll admit, it's a bit hard for me to 'plan with margin' because it somewhat feels like I'm not planning all my time well...but it still helpful to me as it causes me to consider again what is important, what MUST be included, and what can be pushed back.  So, the goal is not necessarily to accomplish more, it's to be mindful of the truly important and purposeful with the time I do have...and the strange thing is that I am actually "accomplishing" more as I get better at caring for my time.

And I still totally enjoy down time...as a matter of fact, I think I enjoy it more than I used to.

Here's to getting back to the basics, here's to a plan, here's to more of the truly important~
Rach

My Grandpa~

My Grandpa is very ill and will not be with us much longer~

*My Grandpa passed away soon after I posted this.*

I never lived near my Mom's parents...they lived in California and I was an Air Force kid living all over the place.  

I did not grow up spending lots of time with my Grandpa Stewart...but that does not mean I don't have wonderful memories of my Grandpa...he is a man I love~

I thought it appropriate to share one of my most favorite experiences with my Grandpa.

Steve and I with my Grandpa Stewart, our honeymoon, Alcatraz Island~

Steve and I got married in 1998 and chose to honeymoon in California.  We spent a few days enjoying the wonderful city of San Francisco before enjoying some more days in Yosemite.  

One of those fabulous days in San Fran was spent going to Alcatraz Island...with my Grandpa and my aunts Amy and Julia and cousins Stewart and Jenna.  When you go to Alcatraz with my Grandpa, you get the Royal Treatment...a very personal tour with your own park ranger and you get to do things the average visitor doesn't get to do.

You see, my Grandpa lived on Alcatraz Island when he was a kid.  

My Great Grandfather was a prison guard on The Rock and his family lived there with him...along with lots of other "guard families".  The families lived in an apartment building there on the island and the kids took a ferry back to the mainland every day to go to school...catching the ferry was pretty important...it's not like missing the bus :)

Alcatraz Island and ferry boat~

When we went to Alcatraz, we were escorted around the island by a park ranger...I enjoy learning from rangers, but seriously, I think this guy learned more from my Grandpa :)
 

Telling us a story about life on The Rock~

Alcatraz is fascinating and even the "regular" tour is super interesting...the prison, learning about some of the infamous prisoners, the still unsolved prison escape...but my favorite place to visit is the apartment where my Grandpa lived.  

The apartment building is in a sad state of decay and is not open to regular visitors.  But, oh boy, it is fascinating!  It's like experiencing a piece of history frozen in time...still filled with old stoves and claw foot bathtubs, peeling paint and antique architecture.  My Grandpa led us to the apartment he used to live in and proceeded to explain where things used to be and who lived nearby.  My Grandpa is a great storyteller...it's super fun to watch and hear him tell the stories about his time on Alcatraz.
 

The storyteller~

Antique wardrobe still in the apartment and a super cool fireplace, my cousin Stewart and Aunt Amy too~

Old bathroom in my Grandpa's old apartment~

Old stove...tried to imagine my Great Grandma cooking on it~

I heard stories about him catching the ferry, experiencing lock down in his home during a prison break, and a sad story about his friend's dad (also a guard) who was killed during a prison break.  And with a twinkle in his eye, he also told us about his first kiss...sitting under this window in the stairwell of his apartment building with a pretty girl :)

First kiss window~

It was a wonderful day...spent with wonderful family.  A day I am especially thankful for as I wait for news of my Grandpa...his time with us is short, but his life is long and fascinating.  I love you, Grandpa~

Rach

A Lego Story~

Both of my big girls love Legos...they enjoy regular Legos and the sets that are more "girly".  

It seems that there's some concern right now about the color of "girl" Legos and how they're marketed to young ladies...seriously, I think there are bigger issues than making a big deal about girls playing with pink Legos.  I would even venture to say that if you're buying Legos for your kids to play with over, let's say ANOTHER VIDEO GAME, then you're doing okay.  I don't think the color inhibits their creativity or the building skills they get to use when working and having fun.

Okay, rant over...now back to why I'm blogging about Legos.

My parents bought Isabella a big Lego set last Christmas.  It was the Lego Emporium and the thing that really caught Bella's attention, other than how cool it is, was the 16+ label on the box.  She's 11 and the thought of conquering a project that was maybe for someone older was a perfect challenge for her :)

Bella loves to create and build.  I wish I had taken a picture of the marble maze she built using 4 different sets of toys...it was impressive and it worked!

She cleared the dining room table and systematically began working on the emporium.  She was determined to do it herself...neither Steve nor myself helped her at all.  She worked on it for a few hours for two afternoons and then finished the final touches the following morning.  It was pretty interesting to watch her work...she was focused and determined and having fun.  She would call us back to check it out every now and then...glad I documented the progress.

This baby is impressive...lots of cool details.

Ready to begin~

The first story...ready to add the escalator~

Inside view of the first story...a clothing store complete with window displays~

Yes, the revolving door works~

The second story is complete~

Escalator and inside view of the china shop~

This elegant Lego chandelier is inside the china shop~

The finished emporium!  Complete with outdoor ice cream vendor, a window washer, and a billboard on top~

 Great job Bella!  Wonder which one she'll tackle next?

Have fun building and playing~
Rach

Family Room Curtains~

Another hard hitting post about drop cloth curtains!

We moved into our new house last January :)

I'm a bit slower than I would like in getting everything settled...but I am getting around to more of the decorating that makes this house our home.

I recently got the curtains up in our family room...and I love them...I simply love them.

New curtains~

I wanted the curtains in our family to room to feel light and airy...I didn't want them to limit the light...yet they had to cover large windows.  I turned, once again, to drop cloths...yes, drop cloths...the kind used in painting...yes, the kind you get at a home improvement store.  And most importantly...yes, the kind that only cost $10.98 per large panel at Lowe's :)

These "linen" curtains are made from a 9 x 6 drop cloth.  I washed them, ironed them, sewed a rod pocket, and hung them on the rods that Steve made for me.  Yep, Steve made the rods using electrical conduit and attaching my antique glass doorknobs as the rod finials.  If you're interested in how to make your own inexpensive and very cool rods, you can read about how he did it here.  Steve, you're awesome!!!  And I love you!!!

The walls and the curtains are almost the same color...generally it's not my style to have this much neutrality...but those walls are big and it will be a long while before they get any paint.  I knew I wanted to bring a touch of color to the curtains and a touch of boho style as well.  My Mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas, so I showed her online the kind of thing I wanted to use as tie-backs for my curtains and she found these perfect silk bird fabric hangers at World Market...I mean, they are P.E.R.F.E.C.T!  They are even better than what I had originally showed her and envisioned when I thought about these curtains.  She also found the bells at World Market and I love the extra interest they add :)  Thanks, Mom...they make the curtains!

I love the colors~

I tucked the pleats into the tie backs and simply pinned them in place~

Boho bells~

Gypsy style~

Antique doorknob finial and gypsy bells~

Also, do you like my tall turquoise-ish shutter against the wall?  It's part of a folding door that Steve and I bought at an antique shop in Pittsboro, NC way back when we were first married.  Supposedly, it came from an old hotel ballroom from somewhere in the Shenandoah Valley.  I've been dragging them around with us every time we've moved and now they finally have a place in our home.  I say "they" because I have another one that I'm going to put in the entry way.  Those babies are 9 feet tall...it's nice to finally be able to display them :)  The wall that the shutter rests against is opposite the antique windows Steve and I hung last summer...they complement each other nicely.

Perfectly distressed by age and weather~

You know I love the old hardware~

As a funny side note...we had nowhere to store these tall doors at our little rental house in PA.  They were too big to fit down the stairs to the basement and we already had so much stuff stored against all the walls that they had to stay outside stacked against the house for 8 months until we moved.  They were already distressed by age, but the weather perfected the distressed look...so no, I have not done one thing to distress them.  

Our ceiling in our little cape cod we purchased in PA was only 7 1/2 feet tall...it was built in 1951 after all.  There was nowhere for the doors to be displayed.  I thought about turning them into shelves, but they are pretty heavy...plus I would have had to cut them because we didn't have any walls that were long enough.  At least we had a garage now, so they got stored away from the weather :)  That little house had some nice mid-century charm as well as some quirks.  I grew to really like that house, but I am enjoying having more space in this home.

Anyhoo...back to the window treatments.

Here's the approximate cost breakdown...because I love a bargain:

Rod hardware to hang.............$4
Electrical conduit.....................$1.50
Antique glass doorknobs.........$10 per pair
9 x 6 drop cloth........................$11
Fabric tie-backs.......................$7
Gypsy bells..............................$10
Hook to hold tie-back...............$1.50

Grand total per window...approximately $45 ($17 of the total for the bells and tie-back)...not bad, not bad at all :)

What will the next project be?  I have some ideas...

Rach

52 Weeks of Fasting~

I have prayed about writing about this.

I really had to consider my motivation(s) in telling this little story.  

My prayer is that you, dear friend or family reading this, will be inspired...not by me, but by the Lord. 

Why am I concerned about the content of this post?  Because some may see it as boastful...am I giving myself a pat on the back?  Do I want a pat on the back from others for sharing this?  Am I seeking the praise of men that the Scriptures warn us to be careful of?  Is it humble to share a way that God has grown me spiritually?  Is there a way to share a "spiritual success" in a humble way?  Is this a humblebrag...I don't intend for it to be.

I thought about people who encourage me spiritually.  I thought about mentors and friends who inspire me, about personal testimonies I've heard and how encouraging they can be, and authors whose books and blogs I read that draw me closer to my Lord.   How do they do this?  They share life...they share things that God has called them to do and how He enabled them to do it.  I am blessed when God uses others to grow me.

I hope that is how this post is used...I pray you are encouraged...not by me, but by my Lord. 

Matthew 5: 16
"In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven."

A year ago, Steve and I began fasting once a week, usually on Fridays.  We began fasting for our friends...David was fighting cancer and Angie, his wife, was walking through it with him. We fasted and prayed for his life and for his wife and their four young children.

Our friend lived in Pennsylvania and we were far away in Texas.  We were part of an online group of friends and family...getting updates on our friend's condition, treatments, how his family was doing.  But it was hard to be far away when you want to do something tangible, practical...prepare a meal, care for the kids, be with the prayer groups who gathered.  Many of us fasted at different times during our friend's illness...at one time, collectively, I think we had almost round the clock fasting and praying.

I have never been much of a "faster".  In all honesty, it was rarely talked about at some of the churches I attended.  And the few people I knew who fasted seemed like "elite" Christians.  Now, let's be clear, my friends who fast never behaved that way...that was just my impression based on my own inability to comprehend willingly going without food for a specific amount of time or purpose.  I never really considered it as a spiritual discipline I was interested in exploring further.

I read a book about spiritual practices and disciplines when I lived in PA ...it was one of the first times I ever had teaching on fasting (that I can remember) and it began my willingness to be at least open to fasting.  The author did not believe that fasting was for "the days of old" and, therefore, Christians no longer needed to fast...instead, he taught that fasting is a spiritual discipline and should be practiced even in our modern day.  The author also made me aware that it wasn't for the "spiritually elite" as I had assumed.  

However, I still did not really embrace fasting as a discipline for me to do often.  I fasted a couple of times for a meal or part of a day when our church organized some times of prayer and fasting...but that's about it.

When Steve and I began fasting weekly for our friends, (others joined us in our weekly fasts too) it was at a desperate time for him and his family and it was in response to a call to fast for our friend.  The cancer was very aggressive and his time this side of heaven looked short.  He passed away three months later.  

We felt led to continue fasting for our friend who was now a young widow...and for their children who had to say goodbye to their daddy at such a young age.

So our Friday fasts continued...and they still continue today.  This past Friday marked 52 weeks.

Every now and then we adjusted our "fasting schedule" to accommodate other plans.  Sometimes that meant we fasted through breakfast and lunch, but stopped our fast at dinnertime...I did that once because a retreat I was part of began with dinner on Friday.  I chose to fast earlier in the week during Thanksgiving because, well, the day after Thanksgiving is when you eat leftover turkey sandwiches...plus we were in Albuquerque hanging out with family :)  

But the norm for us was to fast the entire day.

I also have some confessions about fasting, though.  There were many, many times when it just seemed really hard to fast.  A couple of times I broke my fast at dinner...not because of other plans, but because of pure hunger.  There was one time I remember when we technically finished our Friday fast and broke it with a snack at midnight...that just doesn't seem very holy...it was like I was counting down the minutes til I could eat.  And another problem developed...as I got used to fasting, it became easier...almost too easy sometimes.  Every now and then I would realize that half the day had passed with little intentional prayer.

Fasting was far from a "spiritual high" kind of experience.  There have been times when I've been discouraged by the prayers that seem to go unanswered.  I've wondered if fasting matters...does it make any difference?  I've been tempted to quit.

But God has been kind to show me of how He has used the discipline of fasting to teach me...and maybe, just maybe, encourage others.

There have been times when I have felt the Lord prompt me to pray in specific ways for my grieving friend.   As I (hopefully) learned to more easily recognize the leading of the Holy Spirit, God has brought others to mind and I find myself interceding in prayer for others more.  A few times, I have found myself thinking about seemingly random people (friends I haven't been in touch with for years and old co-workers) and felt prompted to pray for them.  A few times I have let friends know that they are on the "fasting prayer list"...I pray it was encouraging to them.  

On one hand, fasting for just a day, is not that big a deal.  I have a friend (a few actually) who fasted for an entire week for a specific purpose.  I know of other friends who tackle 3 and 4 day fasts when God leads them to do so.  

But on the other hand, God has used this regular discipline of fasting once a week to change how I pray for others.  He has caused me to intercede more and to listen for His prompting more closely.

It has been a journey...a journey of learning more about prayer and loving others through prayer.  It has opened me up more to the needs of others and it has been an honor to care for people in this way.

I don't know when I'll stop the Friday fasts...I'm open to continuing and right now that seems to be what I perceive from the Lord, but I also don't feel like I have to fast.  I know my Lord doesn't love me more or less based on my fasting "performance"...thank you, Jesus!  I know I don't earn any special favor or bonus points by fasting.

But God has grown me through this experience...and that is a wonderful thing~

Praying you continue to grow in your walk with the Lord~

Rach