In Remembrance of My Beautiful Nana

   

     My beautiful, classy and loving grandmother, Marianna Groves Naylor passed on May 12, 2015.When my mom asked me to write something down about Nana to be read at her funeral, I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to contribute but because I feared that my words might fall short in their attempt to pay homage to such a remarkable lady. So I decided to do what any self respecting coward would do, steal some wise words from someone else.

     One of my favorite writers and poets is Ralph Waldo Emerson. What a name, huh? That poor kid didn’t stand a chance and no doubt had to learn how to fight by the time he got to middle school. However, the unfortunate Ralph Waldo managed to string together a few lovely little lines about success that I think describe my beautiful Nana quite well.

     Emerson writes: “To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics… To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child or a garden patch… To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

     Nana was the designated worrier in our family, so much so that I use to joke with her that I didn’t have to worry about anything because I knew she already had it covered. I think my Aunt Pam might be assuming the DW (designated worrier) role now. While I found it reassuring that Nana was worrying over the details, I think I loved her best when she laughed. Nana laughed a lot at those family reunions at Myrtle Beach.  What I remember most about them was how much Nana enjoyed them. How happy she was to swim in the ocean and how hard she laughed at her sister Carolyn’s and her brother in law Fred’s animated jokes.

     I remember going to her house as a kid and I was always greeted in the same way. “Oh, Laurie!” Like she was surprised, excited and thrilled all at the same time. Family mattered to Nana and she dropped anything to chat with me on her back porch, make me a sandwich or give me a hug.

     Nana’s selflessness wasn’t reserved just for us. Billy was Nana’s stepson from her second marriage. He was nonverbal and required a great deal of care when he was home during summer visits from school. I remember as a kid, asking Nana how she could take care of Billy as her own. She was wiping his face and feeding him one day when I carelessly asked, “Why do you have to do it Nana? He’s not even yours?” She stopped what she was doing, looked me in the eye and said “Laurie, he was Lois’s son and she is gone, so I have to take care of him. If something had happened to me, I would want someone to take care of my girls. Nana continued to visit Billy until he passed making certain that he had everything that he needed and taking him out regularly for his favorite treat, ice cream.

     I wasn’t surprised when Mom told me that nurses, aids, doctors and staff alike filed in when Nana was close to the end. Even her manicurist came to say goodbye.

     “To leave the world a bit better…”
     “ To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

     So Nana if you manage to find Waldo up there in heaven, tell him that you’ve got this success thing down. The proof lies in all of those loved ones you left behind. We are each a little bit better off just for knowing you.

I Choose You, Again

      Sometimes in life when you have been married for what seems like the better part of your existence it pays to take a step back and reexamine where you have been, where you are and where you are going. Michael and I have recently found ourselves in that very place.

      I am a bit of a workaholic and he is a sweet, laid back man that would rather have a root canal than talk about his feelings. That is until recently. As a couple we found ourselves in the land of mediocrity, of just good enough, of "I guess this will do." That sense of OKness as I call it lulled us into a bit of a rut. Fortunately, we were somehow able to fight our way out and redefine what was once and has become yet again, a truly beautiful relationship.

      The first step of working our way out of the rut was redefining our priorities. We took a good hard look at what we value, what are goals are and whether or not our actions and our daily routines reflected those beliefs. In my case, I am sorry to say they did not. So I did a thorough overhaul on my schedule to better suit my priorities. I have struggled with this before and continued to back slide until this summer. I think I may have finally got it right. (Raps loudly on wood.) Following his lead, I made my husband and our relationship the priority and that has made all the difference.

      When someone loves you completely and unconditionally it drastically changes the way you respond to them. When they make you the priority, it makes you want to do the exact same thing. It opens up a whole new world of what a marriage could be.

      Now this new outlook has created a bit of confusion for our children who look as us through the eyes of adolescence and wonder out loud what in the world is wrong with us and why we act so weird. There are the inevitable sounds of "Ew gross" when we hug or kiss in front of them and the somewhat less charming "Get a room, geez" from our delightful 18 year old. You see our kids have always been our top priority and now that the emphasis has shifted to our relationship they have a little adapting to do, and that's ok, because the best thing any parent can do for their kids is model how to be in a loving, stable relationship. We have both been guilty of letting other things, mainly life, come between us and now we are more committed than ever at correcting that obvious fault, whether the kids like it or not.

      So in that vein, this week my random act of kindness took the form of a long overdue love letter to my one and only. It is my way of recommitting myself to him for another 22+ years or so. Here's a few of my corny lines:

      "I adore and love you but I realize now that these are sentiments I do not share with you often enough. So this is my feeble attempt at showing you my heart and all those places in it that I feel safer having hidden.

      In this marriage you have become my strength, my joy and my source of inspiration. You are my rock, my safe place to fall and my security in an otherwise shaky and ridiculous world.

      When I am in your arms I feel completely and totally loved, accepted and fulfilled. You are always in my corner and the battles I fight are no longer my battles but our battles. Through your hard work, patience and dedication, you have taken our relationship to another level, one that I never would have dreamed possible. Thanks for not giving up, for never quitting and for working so hard. Thanks for your eternal patience, kindness and relentless love, even when I was anything but lovable. I want to be someone worthy of the kind of devotion and commitment that you have so selflessly shown. Most of all, I want to love you as completely, honestly and deeply as you have me.

      So from this point forward, I give you nothing less than my whole heart and when my heart deceives me I give you my commitment and dedication. I choose you now and during those tough and sometimes ugly times, I choose you again. During sad and dark days, I choose you. During pain and defeat, I choose you. During joy, happiness and delight, I choose you. For life's adventures both big and small, I choose you. As my husband, my completion, my soul mate, I choose you and for the rest of my life, I choose to be your wife and to love you, always."

      I am thankful for love in my life and for the ability to choose it everyday!

Laurie

                                                   

Take Care of One Another

      The other day we were visiting family in a different city and my husband, my son and I made a trip to a local department store. We were chatting it up as we walked through the parking lot, lost in our own little world, discussing what we needed to buy and rambling on about our trip. We hardly noticed the old man on the ground in the parking lot next to his car parked directly in front of the store. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and saw what I thought was a man bending down to retrieve something he had dropped. I continued on into the store when something made me turn around and look again. This time I was certain, the old man wasn't just trying to get something, he was trying to get up. I called Michael over and told him that I thought the old man was in trouble. Michael ran out the door and to his side. They spoke and Michael picked him up as easily as if he were a sack of potatoes and helped him into his car. Michael smiled his award winning smile and jogged back inside. "Yep," he said, "he was stuck. He tried to pick up something he dropped and fell. He just couldn't get back up on his own. Good thing you sent me over there." Then, just like that, Michael was over looking at swim trunks. Crisis averted.

      Then that same afternoon, we caught an early movie. As soon as the movie ended, I made a quick detour to the ladies room. When I returned, I found Michael right smack in the middle of a heated argument between a young girl (probably twenty something) and an older lady (70ish I'd say). Apparently, the old lady had kicked the girl's seat because she got out her cell phone near the end of the movie. She must have smacked it pretty hard too, given the red face the young lady was wearing. They were knee deep in their war of words when the men with the ladies started to exchange words and there was Michael directly between them, both arms out telling them to calm down. Michael quietly told the gentlemen that a fight between the young man and the elderly one just wasn't going to happen and they backed apart, thank goodness. That didn't slow down the women though, both refused to yield. Michael stayed planted between them until they decided that they had enough and moved on. Afterwards I grabbed Michael and asked him why on earth he decided to get involved. He said, "There was no way I was going to let that young girl hit that old lady. She could have really hurt her." To this I responded, "But why was it your problem?" "It wasn't," he said. "It just wasn't right and nobody else was stopping it, so I did." Then in typical Michael style, not another word was said about it. That was that. Crisis averted.

      Now I should mention that there were other people, lots of other people, in that department store parking lot that day that walked right past that man on the ground and there were dozens at the movie theater including a rather nervous looking theater manager that dismissed the event as none of their business. I couldn't help but wonder what might have happened to those people had Michael chosen not to get involved. For that matter, what if we all just stopped caring? What if everyone decided that it was someone else's problem? It is easier and probably safer at times not to get involved but does that make it right?

      Easter is a time of sacrifice and love. Perhaps the best way to honor that sentiment is to live it, everyday, the best way we can. Love freely, help out when we can, and take care of one another. It sounds so simple but it can have a profound effect on your life and the lives of those around you. 

Happy Easter to all my peeps!  :)

Laurie

      

A Love Story

      Writing for me is a bit like therapy. Sometimes my brain is in overload. There is almost too much to take in, too much to do, too much to consider and way too much to sort out. Writing provides me with a sort of brain drain, if you will. It acts like a release valve that alleviates the pressure. This week was one of those weeks that I needed something to sooth the soul. So I write.

      Our dear friend, Dale Boyd, whom I wrote about in one of my very first blog posts, Week One, Victim One http://loveripples.blogspot.com/2013/01/so-hubby-and-i-have-decided-to-set-goal.html lost his beloved wife, Connie, on Friday to cancer.

      My heart aches for Dale. Losing your spouse must be a lot like losing a part of yourself, only worse. I cannot possibly imagine his pain and grief. I cannot possibly imagine what strength it has taken to endure the years of this relentless disease. I do know that what he and Connie shared was a special and deep bond that few people will ever know in this lifetime. Dale loved his wife deeply. He was completely devoted to her in every possible way. When he spoke of her he used words like "darling," "Angel" and "my wonderful wife." Most men complain about their women at least every once in awhile but not Dale. In the four years that I have known him, I have never heard him say a single bad thing about Connie and that really stood out to me. It speaks volumes about his loyalty and commitment.

      In a world where everything is disposable, trash, animals, relationships and even people, Dale's attention and devotion to Connie stood out in stark contrast. When Connie was first diagnosed with breast cancer, Dale told her to make a bucket list. They set about checking items off it. She beat cancer the first time and it looked as though her life and his might return to some normalcy. Unfortunately that peace was not meant to last for long and after only about a year of her retirement, the monster was back.

      They were both ridiculously strong through the whole ordeal. Connie moved home for awhile but then made the very selfless decision to move back to eastern carolina when it looked like the cancer was here to stay in order to put Dale closer to his family and friends. Connie was setting things in order and her top priority was Dale. She wanted him to have a support system after she was gone. That speaks volumes to her character and it certainly comes as no surprise. To have someone, anyone, love you as much as Dale did Connie, you have to have done something right with the life that you were given. My guess is that Connie did a whole lot of things right. She must have been a beautiful person inside and out.

      Michael and I never got the opportunity to know Connie well. We have really only known Dale for about four years. We met him when he starting working at our school. We first met Connie about the same time. She was teaching Creative Writing at the high school and our daughter Maddie was in her class. By the time we got to know and love Dale, Connie was already ill again. Cancer kept that friendship at bay. I am saddened by that. I would have really liked the chance to get to know her.

      To honor Connie, Michael and I are determined to do what she wished, take care of Dale and her sweet little dog Bella. As far as we are concerned our family has just grown by two.

      Dale and Connie's was a love story that needs to be cherished, honored and remembered. It serves as a wonderful example of selflessness, kindness and devotion.

      I pray that Connie may finally rest. No more pain. No more hurt. No more monsters.

P.S. One of Connie's favorite organizations was http://www.stompthemonsternc.org if you would like to make a donation in her name.

Laurie

The Power of the Pack

      I have always loved dogs. For as long as I can remember, they have been a part of my family. Dogs are loving, trusting, forgiving and kind. They seem to keep no record of wrong doing and have a wonderful ability to live in the moment.

      When we first got married we got a little lhasa apso that had a serious case of separation anxiety. When we left for work he would lose it and go into destroyer mode. Now he was only about 15 pounds but that dog could do some damage, like chewing halfway through a 2x4! It wasn't pretty. Later we discovered that Bandit did so much better with another more stable dog around. They do something similar with thoroughbred race horses. To say that many of these beautiful creatures are high strung would be an understatement, so to calm them down they often have another horse with them. There is something wonderfully secure about being part of a good group or a pack.

      A couple of weeks ago we kept our friends delightful little dog. She is nothing short of a ball of love and one of the most wonderful little canines I have ever met. Her name is Bella. Bella's Daddy said that she likes to get up early, like 4:00am early and the first night we kept Bella that is exactly what she did. Michael got up with her and then slept on the couch for the remainder of the morning until the rest of the house awoke. The second night an interesting thing happened, Bella slept in until the alarm went off. It was as if she realized that the other dogs, we have two, didn't get up at 4:00. The pack, dog and human alike, slept in, so from that point on so did Bella. Behold the power of the pack!

      I often see that same mentality among my middle school students. Sometimes though, the packs are not so benign. The worst seem to be of the female variety. The boys fight it out and it is over, the girls can hold a grudge until they turn 90, longer if their memories remain in tact. Most of the middle school packs are owned and operated by a singular bully who brutally enforces the rules through intimidation and slander. Technology unfortunately has aided them tremendously as it allows them the ability to stir the pot from a distance and under the protection of anonymity.

      Bullies are usually motivated by one of two things, pain or anger. Some are insecure. Some want nothing more than for someone else, anyone else to hurt as much as they do. Some derive a power fix from it that fills the space that says they aren't worthy enough. Some have no control over what is going on in their lives at home so they desperately attempt to control whatever they can outside of that space. Some are filling voids deep within their souls that no amount of inflicted pain or hurt can satisfy. Some are just mean because that is all they have ever seen, that is all that has ever been modeled to them. All are cowards.

      What I tell the students that find themselves a target of such aggression is that this has nothing to do with them, there is nothing wrong with them. There is something very wrong with the person that is doing the bullying, not them. Then we discuss ways to make them less of a target and what to do if that doesn't work. We level the playing field with our targeted kids by giving them the ability to report a bully without giving their names and every case gets investigated. Kids always think that if they tell it will get worse but in my experience if handled correctly by the adults, that is not the case. It can and does get better. The trick is to expose what the bully is doing and have everyone, parents, teachers, students, etc. on the same page. Bullies like to work in the dark, so the best way to combat them is to put the spotlight on them. It also helps if you can get them emerged in a larger, more benign pack.

      Just like with dogs the pack sets the tone and if you are in a school that tolerates bad behavior, bad packs will dominate. However, the reverse is also true. If you are in a school where most of the kids are great kids and teachers, administrators and counsellors support students that have been targeted while weeding out and attempting to rehabilitate the offenders, it is very difficult for a bully or a bad pack to survive longterm. Most of the kids in a bully led pack don't really want to be there and will desert him/her if given a way out.

      It is interesting to me that schools can be so drastically different in culture. Some schools are the bad pack schools. Bad behavior may not be openly tolerated but the bar for what is expected is not held very high and bad packs are allowed to rule. In most good pack schools the bar is held extremely high but not to the point that what is asked of the kids is unobtainable. The result is a good overall pack that can straighten out the occasional bad apple. It is really amazing how a good school culture can absorb and transform a troubled new student. A difficult kid in a stable pack has a chance but a good kid in a corrupt pack usually does not. The transformations, either way, almost always occur in a couple of weeks. Occasionally we will encounter a new child that has so many scars or wounds that the process takes a little longer, but the good news is that there are very few that cannot be reached in a well discipline, caring environment. We need more schools that have surroundings conducive and supportive of the good packs, but even more important is the need for more strong, stable, child centered packs at home where they feel loved unconditionally and get the attention and time they need to develop strong self esteem. Just like our canine family members, humans need wonderful support systems to truly thrive and feel secure. The power of the pack!

      Have a great week!

      Laurie

Finding the Eagles

      The winter olympics came to a close last week in Sochi. One of my all time favorite events is the Alpine Skiing Competition and in particular the downhill. It is insane! I find it absolutely fascinating! Folks flying down a hill at a rate of 60mph with nothing between them and that nearby tree but some little ol' helmet.

      These daredevils perform their feats for the chance to take their place on that famous platform and claim that gloriously shiny token that declares them among the best in the world. I love seeing the expressions on the faces of their families and coaches when they win a medal.  It is obvious that it is not just the olympian's dream but their dream too. I can't help but wonder what gave that olympic dream wings. Was it the sole idea of the competitor or was their talent unearthed and nurtured by someone that happened to recognize that individual's amazing potential?

      You probably remember the story of the baby eaglet that was raised with a bunch of chickens. It seems that the farmer stumbled across a large bird's egg one day that had apparently fallen from a nearby nest. The egg appeared undamaged so the farmer, unable to reach the nest that it fell from and  not wanting to leave it out in the open where the baby would surely perish, took the egg home and put it in his chicken coop. When that egg hatched a beautiful baby eaglet emerged.

      Now that eaglet was stronger, bigger and way more majestic than those average farm yard fowl with which he was raised, but despite those obvious differences he was convinced that he was a chicken, so he acted like one. He picked and scratched in the yard. He even tried to cluck like a hen but his best efforts to conform were not enough. He often found himself gazing at the beautiful creatures that he saw soaring effortlessly in the air above him and something deep inside of him longed to join them. Still he did not take to the skies because he believed he was incapable of such flight. He believed he was a chicken and that limited mentality kept that powerful beast grounded.

      Then one day the farmer took that eagle high up on a cliff to release him. At first the young eagle just stood there, unsure of what to do next. Then from out of nowhere came another beautiful bird gliding on the wind, it's impressive wing span casting a shadow on the farmer and the eaglet below. That was all the young bird needed. He stretched out his enormous wings for the very first time and joined his brother in flight. Without the farmer that eagle might have lived his whole life never realizing his true capabilities. What a waste that would have been! It would be inherently wrong for that wondrous creature to live and die as a chicken without ever once soaring effortlessly across a wide open sky, doing that which he was made to do.

      As I gaze over the faces in my classroom I can't help but wonder what they will do with what they have been given. There are many days that we stumble across a talent buried so deep they never knew it was there. My favorite one will always be the day that I put a somewhat artistically challenged individual on the pottery wheel. He did not want to go. It took some persistent persuading. Art just wasn't his thing. No exaggeration, this one struggled with stick figures. So when he finally decided to give the wheel a try, I'm not going to lie, I was a little scared.

      I carefully gave him directions on how to throw a simple pot, followed by a complete demonstration, then I said a short prayer and walked away. When I returned only a few minutes later, much to my dismay, this child had thrown a beautifully fashioned pot. I asked him how he did it and he responded with a grunt and a shrug of the shoulders. I figured it had to be a fluke or beginners luck so I got him another ball of clay and said "Show me." He responded with some brief but expertly placed hand motions that resulted in yet another marvelous piece of pottery, obviously not a fluke! "Have you ever done this before?" I asked. "Nope," he said. I grinned and said, "Well my dear boy, I believe we just found your artistic gift!"

      Granted, there are no olympic events for pottery but this was one major win for this little guy. Suddenly he was an all star in art class and my new pottery assistant. My point is, that here was this natural talent hidden deep down that he may have never known about had he not been convinced to try.

      My husband coached track a few years back. He is the PE teacher so he is always keeping an eye out for athletic talent to recruit for one of the many teams he coaches. One day in gym class he noticed an awkward sixth grade girl running some laps. He immediately took note of what appeared to be an obvious natural stride. Now this child was not known for her athletic ability. She was an intellectual, not a jock. When Michael spoke to her mother about allowing her to participate in the national Hershey Track competition her mother laughed and asked if he was sure that he had the right girl. "My daughter is awkward and clumsy," she said, but Michael finally persuaded her to allow her child to compete. And compete she did! This girl ran all the way to a state championship! Now she is running for Georgia Tech on a track scholarship. There is no doubt in my mind that this little eaglet believed she was a chicken but she was wrong, she had the wings of an eagle.

 

      As a teacher I am a lifelong learner. I pray that my children and those I have taught will follow my example because there is always more to learn, more talent to discover and more eagles to be found.

Laurie

Brick by Brick

      Belief and faith are two totally different things. I believe in God, always have, always will, but faith, now that's a different matter entirely. Faith runs deeper. Faith involves unflinching trust. Faith does not come to us in its final form. It is a slow and tedious process. Rock solid faith is built one single, solitary brick at a time.

      I guess for me the first stone was put in place by Sister St. Monica at St. Peter's Catholic School. As an impressionable first grader I accepted her God as easily as I accepted her explanation of the color blue. It just was.

      At thirteen I was confirmed at the United Methodist Church in Piedmont, WV by Reverend Sawyers. He was a good man of great passion and conviction. His faith was pure and simple. I wanted what he had. I wanted to believe that deeply. Another brick slid into place.

      During college I often escaped to my Aunt Pam's house in Atlanta. Her faith was constant and unquestioning even during hard times. I didn't understand it then, but I think I'm beginning to now. Another brick.

      I met the most wonderful guy by sheer accident in New Orleans. He was different. He was cute and kind and selfless and confident all at the same time. The odds of meeting that guy in that place had to be astronomical. I knew it wasn't by chance. He was an answered prayer. Another brick.

      Our daughter was born with an undetermined illness. She was deteriorating before our eyes. I could tell by the look on the doctors face that we were in trouble. Then a group of folks at a small insignificant church started to pray. At the very moment that they held her up in prayer she began a drastic, inexplicable turnaround. Another brick.

      While I was still in the first trimester with my son, I over heard a conversation between two doctors. They said that this child would never make it to term if he lived at all. I refused to accept it. I prayed daily. I cried in the shower so no one would see. I begged. I surrendered and I delivered two weeks before term to a room full of doctors that simply couldn't understand. Another brick.

      Throughout my life God has slowly and painstakingly been laying a foundation of faith. He has given me every reason to believe Him but sometimes I still struggle.

      Teaching was God's idea, not mine. It has become my lifelong passion. I would never have chosen it but I am so very thankful for getting to go to a job everyday that I absolutely love. The Masters in History was His idea. I really wanted a Masters in Art History but every door I tried to go through on that one got slammed shut, so I prayed for guidance and all of the markers pointed to History. Once I completed the degree, I was sure that because God was part of that decision, that it would pay off. It did not. I was frustrated. I just dropped a boatload of cash on something that I might never get a return on. God, what were you thinking?

      Not only that, I was led to a state which has declared war on its teachers. No pay raise in six years. My bills continue to rise but my pay remains stagnant and ridiculously low. Why God? Why you lead me to a state that ranks last in teachers pay? How on earth am I going to be able to survive and take care of my kids? I felt a bit like the Israelites out in the desert. Why did you lead me here to starve? Sure you are providing a little through tutoring and some side jobs but God, that manna is getting old. Is this all you meant for me to do for the rest of my life? Just get by? Barely survive? Constantly struggle?

     I continued to keep lines in the water, so to speak. I had applied for nearly every job I could think of in my field, to no avail. Finally around Christmas, I got a nibble. It was a job at the local community college teaching American History, unfortunately it too fell through. So I did what any normal human would do, I gave up. I surrendered. I had nothing else left in the tank. Ok God, I resign to live in poverty.

     Then in the middle of the afternoon, on a snowy day, I got a call from a number I did not recognize. The lady on the line said she was calling from NCVPS. "Who?" I asked. "North Carolina Virtual Public Schools," she said. "You applied for a job with us about a year ago?" Holy cow! I had forgotten all about that! She and her colleague proceeded to interview me on the phone. When I hung up Michael said "Man you were talking fast, what was that?" Oh great, I thought, I blew it. The lady requested some information which I sent and she followed quickly with the next step of the hiring process. She wanted me to interview with her boss. Whew, I guess I didn't blow it after all. I sent out a prayer request before my second interview and I prayed myself as well.

      Through tears I ask God to show me the path He wanted for me. If this interview didn't go well, I would have to start looking at other employment options and that was Ok, just show me which way to go. Leaving teaching would break my heart, but I was willing to go if that was what I was suppose to do. Make the path clear, Lord and I'll take it. I don't understand but I trust you.

      About ten minutes into the interview, the lady told me to stop right there. My heart sank. How could I have possibly screwed this up so quickly? "You are exactly what I am looking for," she said, "and the job is yours if you want it." I had to fight back tears of relief.

      Now there are only about 700 online teachers in the state and only a fraction of them are art instructors. The chances of me getting this job were slim to none, especially after a year. So I asked her what about my application caught her eye. She said that it was the Masters in History.

      I thought God was torturing me with all of the jobs that fell through but He wasn't torturing me, He was closing doors because He had something better in mind. He was redirecting me. Did I mention that this new job pays significantly more than the college job would have? Oh and the lady from NCVPS also said that she might have another opportunity over the summer working on a team to create new online class modules that involve several different disciplines. When she told me about that one, all I could think was yeah, now He's just showing off. Path markers were clear now, as clear as if they were being lit up in neon lights. My prayers had finally been answered and the answer had come cleverly disguised as a years worth of unanswered prayers.

      It is interesting to me what surrender does. Surrender is faith, maybe even in its purest form. A preacher once told me that true faith is signing your name to the bottom of a blank page and letting God fill in the rest. You are in a place of complete agreement and acceptance. I continue to struggle with that but I believe this experience has laid yet another brick in the solid foundation of my faith wall.

      So for anyone struggling, hang in there. You never know when you will turn the corner and your prayers will be answered. You never know what God is quietly setting up behind the scenes. Remember you can still take it to Him in prayer. Even prayers of frustration are little acts of faith because you do so believing that He is listening and that can lead you one step closer to surrender. :)

      Have a wonderful week!

      Laurie