Glittering laughter

There is no doubt in my head now that I suffered from some serious emotional trauma this year. I knew as I was living out each day that some events and betrayals were traumatic to me, but I don't think it is until now that I can look back and see that I am still in the process of healing from the trauma of upheaval in my life.

And in the exact breath - I know that it is blessed trauma. Trauma for God's glory. A complete disruption of my focused, on track, Jesus-talking, self-absorbed life into a chaotic, faith fulled, Jesus-walking, pride-stripped life. 

So much of it stands out as defining moments, and so much seems like a blur.

How do I know that I am healing? 

Last night I went to P.F. Changs. With three other girls. Three other mommas. Three other MB transplants who openly confess that they, too, are looking for friends and wanting community. Two of which go to High Rock and one "future High Rocker".

This could easily become awkward, right? I mean, with the exception of K and I, we really all just met. We all had only spent about two hours together total - and that was at Jair's party - which, let's be honest, wasn't exactly conducive to lots of adult conversation. Would conversation flow - would I be "me" when I am not even sure I know who "me" is at this point?

But in my head I was picturing a much more Sex in the City vibe. I've never actually seen that show, but I can imagine. Dark lighting and sipping from wine glasses and glittering laughter. Yes. Glittering laughter. I told K that. She "bahahahad" and then said that was the best phrase ever - and I knew - we were in for a blast.

We spent three hours - THREE HOURS - talking and sharing and laughing and crying - three hours eating off of each other's plates - cracking jokes on each other's behalf - and being FRIENDS. There was no gossiping about others, no judgement, no critiquing, no exclusion. It was fun. And beautiful. And filled with glittering laughter. It was, exactly, as I had dreamed. I said that too and sent them into fits of laughter.

I could almost hear those that have put up with me this year cheering me on. Reminding me that I am loved and that real friendships exist. And I loved each of them - and I can see how God is fitting them into my lives. 

God is starting to connect dots here in Myrtle Beach. My circle is widening and my group is tightening. I am letting God define who I am and I am reveling in the authenticity that allows in my relationships.

I can hear God reminding me that I am here for a purpose - and He has that purpose mapped out.

Maybe I am Romanticizing all of this a bit - but - it is my heart. 

Write about it!

For months people have been telling me to write about the experience my family has been going through. To chronicle the "journey of faith" in hopes that it might provide insight, help someone, or encourage (to which I often snort-laughed because most of the time I have been a doubt-filled mess).

And I've tried. I've journaled a bit. I've texted a lot. I've even opened up word press and made an account.

And everything I have written seemed so...inadequate.

Maybe I'm not ready.

Maybe it is like labor and you forget the "labor" because you are filled with your blessing.

Maybe I'm scared I will sell God short (I will.).

And maybe I'll try again. Soon.

For now, let's see if we can organize some thoughts on here.

So...it happened...and I cried!

There is no doubt I definitely enjoyed my summer. In fact, if you were one of the lucky people who ran into the boys and I at the grocery store this summer, I inevitably told you that it was the best summer of my life.

And then, it happened.

School started.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I am so thankful that I have a job when so many in this country (and so many in the education field) do not. But I thought sure this would be the  year that God opened up some mysterious bank account or add some numbers to Jon's paycheck and allow me to stay home with my boys.

I know what some (okay, most) of you are thinking: "Jess, stay home? This sounds completely unlike you."

Hey, I've changed...a lot.

But, alas, God decided that my place was back in the classroom for year 8 (or 9 - to be honest, I'm too lazy to do the math).

And so began the full swing of: wake up, go in early because you have to leave early, teach like crazy, get the boys, make dinner, work on Kids Club/laundry/finding the living room floor/loading the dishwashwer, pretend to care that the clean clothes are not put away, bathe boys, put boys in bed, resume copious amounts of housework / schoolwork that I didn't finish during the day, go to bed feeling like not enough got done, sleep, repeat.

And then I received a blog from a friend....a blog that reminded me that my place is not to perfect my home and become frustrated that that will never happen...but to praise God and be still in who He has created me to be.

And it really changed my perspective. Until the next day.

Then I read it again...and again.