***This post took me weeks to write.  I got so emotional each time I dove in, I just couldn’t finish.  The question to ask, then, would be why share this story, my story, at all?  “My world is breaking me, Your love is shaping me, and now the enemy, is afraid of what Your making me.” This is a line from a very dear song to me.  I want to share that we all have/are going through something, some far more terrible than others.  I want you to know that you are not alone.  God was with me all along, He is with you.  He knows what you are going through.  I pray your ears and hearts are open to Him, so you can hear Him calling for you.

When I decided to write this blog, there were certain topics I packed away, sure that if I wrote about them it would be too difficult or painful.  I figured I was safer just to write about recipes I had loved, places I had been, things my children had done, etc, then open wounds or admit defeat to the public.  Each time I set to write new entry, I would get stuck half way into it.  I’d save it, close the computer, and figure I’d wait it out and something would click, enabling me to finish it.  That never happened, for any of those topics.

The one topic that has been consistently on my heart and mind for weeks now has been the exact one I had been avoiding, totally and completely.  You see, when I was 23, my father died of a massive heart attack and for 16 years I’ve dealt with the pain and anger it’s caused as I have felt necessary for survival.  Since I know the Lord has a way of chasing us no matter where we run, I figure I will be obedient and go the path he’s put on my heart.  Bear with me, this one will be difficult for me to tell.

I am the youngest of 5 children and the last of my 4 siblings moved out while I was in middle school.  I was, for all intents and purposes, an only child.  My father was disabled because of a injury sustained while working in the North Maine Woods and my mother worked, so most of my time at home was spent with my dad.  I was very close to both of my parents, but I did enjoy the special bond that daughters have with their daddy: we went fishing, I followed him when he went hunting, I watched wrestling and Charles Bronson movies with him.  His nickname for me was Charro, and I always knew just what to do to get that candy bar at the store or what to say when I didn’t want to go to school.

I was Daddy’s girl, through and through.  I now know how much like my dad I am: stubborn and impatient, intent on loving my children fiercely and immensely.  Being like my father was easy when I was young, but as I got older, the times when we butt heads and argued increased.  After some failed attempts at independence, I moved out and back into my parent’s home at 19 .  To say I was anxious to move out onto my own again was an understatement.  I worked several jobs to be able to do this and finally moved out at 21.  I finished my last 2 years of school, desperate to move on from university to be able to ‘live’ completely on my own, in total control of my decisions and future.

In 2003 I finally managed to reach graduation.  I was living with my roommate in an awesome apartment, I was going to graduate with honors, and I had a full time job, with benefits.  I was on top of the world, feeling incredible and in command.   My self esteem was at an all time high and it felt incredible.  My future was wide open and anything was possible!  I was so proud the day of my graduation. My parents came, my roommate and her family were in the stands…even the snow that fell that day did nothing to ruin my day!  Little did I know how much could change in one week.

The afternoon of May 18 was pretty uneventful:  I went fishing with my roommate and her boyfriend on an exceptionally beautiful spring afternoon.  We stopped at my parents house for a quick visit, gave them fish and laughed with them at something my dad had done.  We soon left to head back to our apartment to relax before the start of the workweek. If I had known it would be the last time I would see my father alive, I would have spent my last few weeks very differently.

I woke up on the morning of the 19th to the phone ringing.  My roommate answered it as she was usually awake before me.  I wanted to go back to sleep but I knew from her tone that something was wrong; she rushed into my room and said we needed to go see my mom, but wouldn’t say why.  She drove, very fast, and I just knew something had happened to my dad.  I ran into the house and although my mother told me what was happening, all I remember hearing was that my father was in the basement.  When I found him, he was laying on the floor, unresponsive.  He still held the piece of firewood he was going to stack.  I yelled and started CPR.  I don’t know how long I worked on him, but I remember my parent’s neighbor putting a strong hand on my shoulder.   He said in his deep voice that my father was gone.  The ambulance arrived and they took my father away.

I remember calling my 4 siblings.  I remember going to the grocery store, but I’m not sure why.  The next week was a blur. I remember buying a suit for his funeral. I remember discussions about head stones. I spent much of my time internalizing my grief so I could be helpful and strong for my mother.  What I didn’t know was keeping it inside would start a path to debilitating depression.  The same year I lost my father, I lost my grandfather.  A handful of months later, I lost a very dear friend.  I had so much grief to sort through, one day I found myself unable to get out of bed.  I left work sick, unable to function.  For many years I was bitter about having experienced so much loss.  I happily moved away, making it easier for Zoloft to manage my grief.

Living away from all of the pain made it easy to function, but I won’t say that I thrived.  I was just able to fool myself into thinking I was fine through avoidance of the memories altogether. When my husband and I got married, I had to face that my daddy wouldn’t be there to walk me down to the altar,  he’d wouldn’t dance with me for a Father-Daughter dance, that he’d never get to meet my husband.  My mother and her Golden Retriever, Charlie, walked me down.  Although it wasn’t my father, I will hold that moment with my mom for forever.

It was tremendously worse when I became pregnant with Samantha. If you had the pleasure of meeting my father, you would know his grand babies were his world, that he was so special and kind with children, it was his gift.  I would never see them with him, hear their roaring laughter as he played with them. I felt so empty and sad that she would never know him.  And angry.

I was angry with God for taking him away from me. Angry and ashamed at myself for the thoughts that had been in my mind at the time of his death.  My father wasn’t perfect.  We often had arguments those last 6 months he was around.  I had a lot going for me and I felt he was a distraction.  Hurtful things were said and it made me want to not visit with him as much.  The guilt that I felt over this for YEARS ate away at my soul.  I was a hot hurting mess for a long time.  That is until I felt God tugging on me, until I heard Him speak to me.  But, that I will leave for my next post…..

~Much Love, Cheryl

I believe I may have hinted in previous entries how 2018 was a HARD year.  It was the most challenging, stressful, faith shaking year I could have never imagined happening.  Let me share some of the details and how it’s shaped my family so far in 2019.

I started last year by going back to work; I had previously been a stay at home momma after we were blessed by a surprise 3rd child.   When Trevor was born I worked from home for the VA Dept of Agriculture and drove hundreds of miles each day.  My middle child was 20 months old, Trevor was a newborn and I was so sleep deprived I literally would not know how I got to location after location and really couldn’t remember what I supposed to be doing there.  I made the decision to stay at home, reasoning I just needed a break, I needed time with my babies and I needed to slow down. Being a stay at home momma of 2 littles and a 2nd grader was amazingly rewarding but really tough.  I didn’t handle it well.  I was actually pretty cruddy at it. When a position that I was qualified for came open a little more than a year later, I jumped for it.  I found I was actually better at being a mommy because I missed being at work.  Crazy right?

Anywho, I was working away and being mommy.  Free time I did not have.  We were constantly living in fear that Trevor would catch a cold.  Every sniffle seemed to doom us to an ER visit and or a admittance to an area hospital.  He was having asthma like symptoms, but we couldn’t get an official diagnosis.  My two oldest were upset I went back to work; they were very confused and upset I wasn’t there everyday.

I’m not comfortable getting into the nitty gritty of all of our internal garbage, but sometime last summer, Jared and I weren’t in a good place.  Lots of fighting, lots of hurt feelings, lots of discontent. We made face and looked awesomely happy, but deep down it was yucky and brown and not solid at all.  It’s amazing how stressful and straining life can be when your foundation feels flimsy and wobbly.  I prayed. And prayed. I prayed ALOT.   I prayed for the Holy Spirit to guide me and be with me. I prayed for my husband, that God would heal what was broken.   I couldn’t fix it, which is something my OCD, need to control personality, freaked out over.  It absolutely killed me that the love of my life and I were not on the solid ground I had hoped for.  I did not want to lose this handsome man!

I had forgotten in the chaos of the holiday season that we had signed up for a marriage retreat, hosted by our church.  I LOVE my church, but I won’t lie, I was very nervous on how the retreat would play out.  We all say to the Lord we want to hear Him speak to us and we want His will to be done, but I think sometimes it can be a little scary, right?

Last weekend was the retreat.  And folks, it was the most wonderful time I have ever had.  What my husband and I learned can be used throughout our entire lifetime.  What we witnessed and shared will never leave me.  God was in every moment of that retreat on the mountain.  I went in nervous and left rejuvenated.  We went in broken and left healed.  We cried, we laughed, we loved, and we prayed.   I heard long married couples share their stories.  We all go into marriage not realizing what “For Richer or For Poorer, For Better or For Worse, In Sickness and In Health” would really be like.  It’s not always easy, bouquets and chocolates.  These seasoned couples instructed us to pray for one another, always.

My heart wants to share with you so badly that it doesn’t matter how dark your season, how rough your sea is, or how how broken you may be.  God loves you and is with you.  Look up and cry out.  Sometimes there are no words in that first prayer.  “Help me Lord” is an awesome place to start.  Those things you feel need fixing, ask Him.  Give it all to Him and let Him do the heavy lifting.  We would love to have you at Bedrock Community Church.  We meet every Sunday at the old Bedford Bulletin building, at 9:15 am and 11:00 am.  You can also check out http://www.bedrockchurch.com, look around and listen to past services.  I’m usually there at 9:15…I’d love to save you a seat.

-Hugs and much love,  Cheryl

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” Isaiah 40:29.

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Why You ever chose me
Has always been a mystery
All my life, I’ve been told I belong
At the end of a line
With all the other Not-Quites
With all the Never-Get-It-Rights
But it turns out they are the ones You were looking for
All this time- Nobody by Casting Crowns

A few weeks ago, I received a copy of a cd, Only Jesus by Casting Crowns, from a woman I admire and respect tremendously.  It has been years since I actually had in my possession a new, still in the plastic wrap, brand new compact disc.  I could barely contain my excitement…in this age of digital content and instant song gratification, I had forgotten what it was like to hold a new never heard album in my hand!

At the time, I received this cd from my children’s babysitter and thought only about the happiness in receiving a gift.  The message that came through speakers was so much more than than I could ever have expected.  You see, my life has been filled with a long list of mistakes, mis-choices, mis-adventures, smart but not smart enough, good but not good enough, and any other close but not quite, you could find in school, work and life in general.  A large part of the time I lived feeling like a failure compared to the perfect lives of my Facebook friends.

After compulsively listening to this song over and over again, it started to dawn on me: I am who God has made me to be.  I am ME. He doesn’t make mistakes.  I was not meant to be at this job or that person with that award.  I’ve been where I am supposed to be all along.   It also left me feeling tearfully grateful; all the while I’ve been feeling woefully inadequate asking “Why me?”, I lost sight of having a set of phenomenal parents who always expressed how much they loved me.  I have close friends that know me and would do anything for me.  God gave me an extraordinary husband and three beautiful children that are so sweet and spectacular it makes me heart sing.  A job that I don’t hate and coworkers that really do care.  God put them all in my life.  Instead of why me, I should be praising and thanking.

I play this song for my kids every time we get in the car.  I sing it to them when I’m doing dishes.  I’m even taking my oldest to the Casting Crowns show coming to our area in March.  Why?  I want to show them that in being a nobody, a nobody following Jesus, they will always be right where they need to be.

Love and hugs to you all, and thanks BCK for always being there for us ~ Cheryl

Howdy!  It’s a windy day here in southern Virginia. The kids and I are stuck inside today and we are suffering hard from cabin fever.  We’ve received a tremendous amount of rain and everything is absolutely soaking and mud is everywhere.  One is being occupied by Mickey Mouse and the others are trying hard to play school, but the getting along part and not fighting is proving to be difficult.

In between hand washing dishes (my beloved dishwsher is on the fritz)  and the mountain of laundry in the hall, I’ve been trying to research something that caught my eye last night: CBD oil.  I have chronic joint pain in my hands and knees, stemming from a combination of trips and falls on my knees, a recent bout of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, a family history of Arthritis, and being overweight. I want 2019 to be the year I focus much more on myself, to better be able to care for my kids and support my husband.  I suffer from periodic mild depression and I really want to immerse myself in the Word and better self-care to relieve the symptoms associated with it.  From what I’ve read, it seems that CBD oil could be a great way to alleviate some symptoms without big Pharma’s prescription solutions.

Has anyone tried CBD oil? Do you have a favorite?  Let me know!!

-Cheryl

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “Plans to prosper you & not harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future” Jeremiah 29:11

I love bread.  Like, we have a special relationship. My blood sugar and belly do not like bread. So, in an effort to get in a better place health wise for us and our kids, my husband and I have gone low carb, high fat. As in I’ll pass on those delectable yeast rolls, but bring on the ribeye.

I’ve lost almost 15 lbs and I can feel myself changing. Carbohydrates keep calling my name. Sigh. I have even made a loaf of approved bread, with lots of eggs and almond flour. It smelled like the egg solutions I had to autoclave at a lab I used to work at and resembled corn bread.

If anybody is reading this, do you have any bread/biscuit recipes that have worked? If so, share with the class!

Halfway through my first year as a stay at home mom has not been without challenges.  I look forward to sharing my journey with you…the  good, bad, and the ugly…