Show me your bones

I love that my heart is so attached to writing. I hate that I only visit when my heart's longing can no longer be contained. I love that writing releases what I've been trying to manage and sort and box up so neatly, but I hate that I wait until I have emotions stacked to the ceiling to describe. I end up writing more seriously than I imagine my usually comical self to be. I think I'd rather be a comedian, but I let things build up too long--- so I'm more like the thick aired morgue versus the trendy mod comedy stage.

I suppose, for some purposes, it's good to shed some light in the dark places people choose not to hang out. It's good to bring up the bones in the cooler as comfortably as the most rehearsed punch line. I guess, to be honest, I like talking about the bones hiding around this place, because I'm not quite done with them. I like to pass things off like I've done the mourning, I've done the changing and I'm just in general- D.O.N.E. But that would just be good joke material. No one's ever really "done" with those bones. They still have a way of showing up under furniture and down curious hallways. Enter a new person, and you have artifacts showin' up all over the place- behind the doors they recklessly throw open out of adventure and excitement. Or, exit the random dog that just carried off a piece or two of your skeletal baggage to be found on some aimless walk. For me- they're always turning up.

I have a bone in my hand I ran across today. I picked it up because I recognized it instantly as one that had been hidden somewhere in this foundation of mine. Like I mentioned before, it's one that has been found on multiple occasions. I picked it up, knowing there was something I was going to have to do with it. At that moment, I wasn't sure what to do, but toss it back and forth between the air and my hand as I kept on with my day. I didn't let it trip my step, I just kept going, swinging it back and forth with my pace- trying to make it a casual movement of time passage and a maybe a mindless game of catch between hands. Buying myself time.

I sat down tonight, in the quiet of my home. I sat that bone right in front of me and I looked at it. I'd like to break it, but it's a femur of a thing- it's the strongest bone I have creepin up on me. That's exactly what it is- the hero bone.

Being a hero has never been a negative thing in my eyes. Being a strong woman has always been quite the compliment. But, I find, when I keep waving that damn thing around, people who are approaching to help, get clobbered. The irony is, I WANT THE HELP- I WANT TO PUT THIS BONE TO REST- but I can't seem to bury it deep enough. It keeps crawling back. Scrappy lil demon.

On top of beating my help, I can't even crown myself with the glory of feeling strong "enough". I never feel like I'm ACTUALLY strong, or CONSISTENTLY strong, I just try to push in that direction (overbearingly so)- and seem to fail when I'm unwinding my day in my shower with all the held back tears and whimpering.

"FAKE HERO LONGS FOR HELP, HELP WON'T COME CUZ THEY SEE A HERO"

I don't really wanna be a hero (well, not ALL the time). So, where did this strong bone come from? Why would I have grown such a thing if I'm not REALLY that STRONG? Was I really let down enough times to build up such a thick, haunting structure? I know there's layers of "I'm not good enough" in there, probably the marrow of the whole deal. The original cells grown out of a lie whispered into my beating heart, pumping directed blood to the site. I probably condoned the construction, telling myself I was pushing myself to be "better" (if that's what independent and calloused is---"better").

This bone, my hero bone.... I don't want to keep hiding it- where I forget that I have it lurking around- until some unsuspecting Samaritan trips over the thing in attempts to save me. I'm thinking I will display it- like on my window sill or something. My gory little reminder to be a bit more fragile- a little more vulnerably inviting.

I can't always show love playing hero, so maybe I can show love by letting someone else be a little heroish FOR me.

Free to breakdown. melt down. settle down.

I will not fall silently

There's no doubt in my mind that falling is nothing short of humiliating. Sometimes we laugh, to brush off the stares of others who saw the flailing affair. I tend to laugh because I never cease to surprise my own self with my ability to find new ways to stumble. Ask me about the time I hung out of a bus by my shorts, or the time I tried to skateboard down "stairs", or the time I flew off the trampoline trying to impress a very cute vacuum salesman. They are good stories. I tell them loudly and enjoyably detailed.

The moment you ask me about a REAL fall, my voice will quiet, my gestures will cease and the amount of words I use to try and elaborate will decrease incredibly. This is not characteristic of just me. There aren't many I know that like to relive their failing moments in the spotlight (unless they are able to attach the saying "many years ago, back in my rebellious stage" to the beginning of the tale). I have said before, I tend to shut up when I see myself sliding into a slippery situation. I don't like to know OTHER people know I'm about to do something fairly ungraceful and unbecoming of the woman I otherwise would like them to know I am. I just don't want them KNOWING. Even worse, I don't want them WONDERING. I surely don't want there to be knowing, but wondering is horrible. Wondering involves unanswered questions, and judgements and speculations. If I am going to mis-step, I would prefer to do it in a darkened ally, where I can regain my composure and move on as if nothing happened.

The sad part about falling quietly is, who can help? Who will be there to protect and prevent? Who will be there to help clean up the spill? Maybe I would save face in a dark ally, but I sure would carry a heavier burden of wound cleaning on my own.

I have such incredible respect for people who do not hurt and fall silently. It takes a LOT of guts to be brutally honest about our stumbling blocks, AS THEY ARE HAPPENING. It takes a brave and strong soul to keep speaking AS they fail. I love those people for their courage and transparency.

Years ago, when I was married, I began to hurt. I began to fail. I could have spoken. I could have expressed what was happening, but I was too afraid of the mess of having too many surgeons in the operating room. So, I performed my own surgery. I amputated the source of my perspective pain- my husband. I left to heal, but no one understood what I was healing from. They didn't see the fall, they didn't see the attempted recovery. I wouldn't let them. I didn't speak. And because I didn't speak, I didn't recover. I am no surgeon, the amputation I performed was less than shoddy. But no one was there to give me perspective. Or warn me for that matter. Or better yet, guide me through the proper maneuvers. Instead, I silently made my way through fall after fall, fail after fail, blindly hoping to pull myself together. Now, let's be honest- there were those who tried to help- who tried to protect, but I didn't let them in, because I wasn't telling my story. Not truthfully anyway.

I've learned that when the only receiver of your beating fists and your angry questions is your pillow, you rest on a sponge of unresolved pain. All those tears are soaked into one place, not taken FROM you and processed, they are right there hiding under your face when you drift to sleep. You dream your fall. You awake and feel tired from the reminder of your fall. You end your day, resting on all the details of your fall.

The moment you take your failings to someone- a live respondent to your humbling predicament of ungraceful movements- you get perspective. You get help. You gain an advocate. You no longer let your pillow absorb all the gory moments of your slips and trips to be hidden forever, you end up spilling them all out in front of you, in front of THEM- and together you SEE. You see the mistake, you see the second by second replay of what SHOULD have happened, but just didn't seem to pan out. You see the place where healing began or WILL begin.

Falling is inevitable. Failing is, too. Speaking your stories of falls and fails means inspiring others who fall and fail. Whether they are inspired by your courage, or by the way they got to help you- they are changed. They are moved and are purposed by the story you carry- and the story they now share WITH you.

Fall loudly. Help will hear. It will still be a really good tale to share.

i have this friend....

Dear Lord,

I have this friend... You know, the one You sent me. She's really a great gift. I see what You were thinking now, when You introduced us. I guess I forget sometimes to thank You for the amazing ones you bring into my life- I kinda take it for granted as if it were just happenstance that we met, that we live and laugh together. Sometimes, I bet I even take her presence for granted, because I am so used to it. I have named part of her home for part of my heart. I guess I probably should tell her how much I appreciate her, huh?

This friend of mine... I know You'd recognize her. She's funny, in her own unique way- she has her own style with the way she tells her story. She radiates some sort of copyrighted smile that only she can shine. (I am certain You are very familiar with the way she brings joy to the places she graces.) God, I will be honest, I'm pretty jealous of her beauty- because it's so indescribably just hers. It seems as if she couldn't be copied- Lord knows how I try to pick up on little things she does here and there to maybe get one inch closer such an essence.

But here's the deal, Lord. I have this friend... She's strong and she's pretty tough. She has always been by my side pushing and pulling on my behalf when I just didn't feel so strong or tough. This girl has heard me out during many of my over dramatized meltdowns. This friend of mine has even sat with me in the silence when something really was too hard to talk about. She always seems to be looking out for me, but tonight- I want to do something for her. God- she is in need. I am asking on her behalf- because she is still out there, trying to fight the fight that is getting harder and harder. Every day, I see her get back up, no matter how bloody the night before- and she's doing life better than most I know. But I see the limp she's trying to hide, I see her trying to catch her breath.

Lord, this friend I have... She is hurting, but doesn't have the time to show it- she's busy still trying to maintain life. She's trying so hard not to skip a beat. She is rising each morning, give her a sunrise that awakens her heart. When she sleeps, give her dreams that rest her soul. For every thought that tells her she's failing, Lord, give her a tangible truth that she's succeeding. Show her her own beauty in undeniable ways. She can't fall- Lord, You can reach her before she breaks.

I'm telling you about this friend I have.... because I trust You with her. She is irreplaceable. It breaks my heart to see her meet obstacle after obstacle- carrying with her burdens that are not her own. Take what she carries, and give her the tools she needs to climb over the walls and walk the desert. You will be impressed how powerful she is. I have no doubt she can make it.

I have a very serious request regarding this friend I have...take care of her. Pamper her. Give her beyond what she needs. Pay attention to the littlest details so when she least expects it, she is pleasantly surprised. Tell her she is loved. Tell her she is impactful- maybe even give her a glimpse of the things she's impacted. Just do it. For her, for me.

Lord, this friend I have.... she is my dearest and best.

Let me draw a picture for you...

I remember back in the day, watching a Veggie Tales video with Zoe about these lil guys called "Snoodles". It ended up being quite moving actually, not that I was too surprised- it seems as a mother my "toughness" fades whenever you pop one of those moral-filled kiddy programs in. I kinda feel all choked up inside when some profound statement is acted out by little sounding people- as if maybe my daughter were saying such wise things TO ME. (It does happen often in this house when my daughter tries to teach me a lesson or two...)

Part of the storyline of this "Snoodle" animation, was all these mean Snoodle-folk were drawing mean Snooodle-folk pictures to describe this poor little baby Snoodle. He carried around these negative pictures in his backpack and they weighed him down, they held him back and they designed his opinion of himself. In the end- yup, for writing purposes, I AM going to ruin the finale for you- the Snoodle happens upon a "man" who draws a NEW picture of him. This new picture makes this little failing guy look older and stronger and ABLE. The "man" takes the bad pictures and throws them into the fire, and places the new picture in this Snoodle-guy`s backpack. He didn`t feel weighed down! He didn`t feel heavy and burdened! ***AWWWWW*** Really, the story gets me every time- there's quite a few more dimensions to that little storyline- so feel free and look into watching it- I'd like to know if anyone else tears up or if it just happens to be me. ;)

But anyway, I got to have an encounter with a quite similar story the other day. A few friends and I decided to steal away to the beach to seek some peace and as brides, seek some "romance" with the King. We have made a tradition out of joining together and blessing each other with encouragement and beauty treatments- and importantly---amazing prayer times. We have gotten some pretty incredible things out of those times in the past- and this time, we made quite the big deal out of our beach trip. God whispered, "Come away with me" and we were fully prepared and intent on doing just that!

I spent the week prior to the trip trying to quiet my heart enough to even begin preparing for what would happen in our cozy suite at the beach, but the week was hectic, the days were long and in the end, I didnt find myself being able to really shed any layers of the "stuff" Id been carrying around. I hate feeling cluttered with past stuff when Im trying to get excited about dealing with future stuff. But amazingly- the day of, my week slid off and I slipped into something more comfortable- something quite a bit lighter and a whole lot more inviting for pampering and refreshing.

Every part of our trip was special- certainly. We danced on the pier, we shopped, we walked the beach, we picked wildflowers and hunted shells, we talked about old stories
new stories
celebrating stories
frustrating stories,
we made each other dinner and ate with plastic dinnerware on wedding plates by fake candlelight, we swam in the pool, soaked in the hot tub, we even sang in the acoustically perfect "gym"--- it is beyond tempting to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" in every echoing room I encounter. All that lead up to---the night in the hotel room. We retreated back, to settle in, and there we met. With soft songs playing a dance formed in our hands. We had little white poster boards for each of us and markers to create with. In that moment- we began drawing pictures for each other. As we would pass each board around, new words and meanings and thoughts would spring- and you would hear someone ask "Who has Rosie`s board?" "Whose board are you working on now?" Things popped into my head that had no explanation of whence they came, but they were there- and once on those boards, and those boards were in the hands of their owner, made so much sense.
There were tears,
and laughter
and sighs of complete impact because these pictures we were drawings of each other were speaking- loudly- against all the things we seemed to be fighting. They were saying things like "there is a new start coming, a new season" or "be your life`s leading lady and walk through those open doors" or "you feel burdened by others` lives because you are called to wash their feet and ready them to return to their calling". It just made so much sense. 4 people all drawing different pictures coming together to make one big picture that just MADE SO MUCH SENSE. We all kept shaking our heads, knowing we were blessed and pampered.

How often do we get to see a picture of how we really are SEEN by Him without a mirror or a world to taint the picture?

That night, after those conversations, those revelations- I went to the balcony by myself. I felt like God was saying "come away with me". Every one was inside- doing communion, but I took mine and just followed. I went outside- the air, the height of the balcony, the night, the ocean- all of it moved with the beat of a song- a slow dance song. I wanted to pray- I felt like I was supposed to say something. You know, maybe thank God for what He was doing- for what He was blessing me with. But my soul had no words- and He wasn`t asking for any- He wanted sweet sweet silence. A song came to my mind- and I listened to it from my phone- and as every girl wishes- I felt like I was being sung to. Danced with. Loved on.

"Rosie`s Lullabye"
She walked by the ocean
And waited for a star
To carry her away
Feelin so small
At the bottom of the world
Lookin up to God
She tries to take deep breaths
To smell the salty sea
As it moves over her feet
The water pulls so strong
and No one is around
And the moon is looking down

Sayin- Rosie come with me. Close your eyes and dream

You would have thought I wrote that song for myself- I slightly wish I had come up with something so cleverly beautiful. But it was written and there for my discovery- just as cool. Few moments are more perfect than that.

Later that night- I was reading a devotional- my new devotional gifted to me by my dear friend Joan- and on the day of my birthday this is what was written:

THE QUIET TIME

My beloved spake, and said unot me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Song of Solomon 2:10

"There may be many times when I reveal nothing, command nothing, give no guidance. But your path is clear, to grow daily more and more into the knowledge of ME. I may ask you to sit silent before Me, and I may speak no word that you could write. All the same, waiting with Me will bring comfort and peace. Only friends who understand and love each other can wait silent in each other`s presence."

So my night ended- with Him reminding me how after my heart He really is. He gave me a reflection on a crooked cut white board, he gave me a song (one I can`t seem to successfully download for the life of me) and written words jotted on the day of my birth- all painting quite the perfect picture, "Rosie, come away with Me".

How the times change

I'm significantly frustrated with myself that I've taken such a long break from this place. This place is where I tell my story- to you AND to myself. I feel as if I don't even remember all the steps I have taken because I have neglected taking the time to regularly retrace them. I like to remember. But, I will admit, I rebelliously refused to recap my life, for myself or anyone, because it was nothing worth rejoicing over. I was in pain and who likes to tell those stories? I want to be the girl that makes people laugh! Not the girl that strikes people speechless out of sympathy. I took my pain and decided walking quietly in the dark. I assumed it would be best for everyone involved- I would be able to slink through this hard time unnoticed and the rest of the world could go on with their own stories. "No one should be affected by one girl's silly story of silly complaints"- I reasoned. I didn't want others to worry- because they would. I also didn't want to have to continuously talk about the unknown that seemed to dauntingly cause my heart to race and my lungs to wish for more and more air. There wasn't one step that wasn't filled with doubt, and to me, it all seemed easier to get myself put together FIRST, then tell the story of how "I made it out"----if I ever could find the "out".
The ironic part of the climb is- stairs still creak in the dark. My loved ones still saw my pain- so they still worried. And worse, I still stayed in the dark- alone. I put myself there with my walls, and my pity and my anger- and no one got to share in my story. I was a one girl show- and I hurt and I believed whatever I wanted to tell myself about where this journey was going.
Here I was, hurting and complaining and asking God- "Why can't this be fixed so I can be who I wish I was and do what I wish to do?" Well, God has answered that question- and I have stepped out of my little pity room to tell you the answer.
I was made to tell a story- and when I tell that story, whether it's a good one or not, then not only am I doing what I've always wanted to do, but I'm being the woman I wish to be.
I figured my sad walk would only suck life out of other peoples' steps. But the other night- I had called an old friend- because she is such a good listener and I needed the shoulder to finally cry out on, to tear a wall or two down, and that conversation ended with her saying something that stopped me before I retreated back from where I came- "you blessed me tonight". She went on to explain how my story, how my pain, how my tears and what I was struggling to grasp touched her and ministered straight to where she also was carrying some unknowns. It broke my heart in a way that made me really regret my little retreat into the dark. I regretted not sharing my story earlier, to others, to you. I regretted not processing emotion for emotion on paper for future reference, or even present reference for that matter. I had no reference, because I refused to process my steps the way I was designed to process them. I did that on purpose- out of rebellion- because I was mad. I was angry that I seemed so confused with life's little blind curves. Instead of telling the story I was made to tell, I would punish myself by locking it away inside and I would punish others (innocent others,by the way) by locking them OUT.
Well- here's my apology- to you, to me, to my Designer: I'm sorry for hiding my story from those who would have been blessed to hear it, from those who would have been honored to help and from myself who really knew healing would come from such a beautiful process as documenting life in its most common form- HARD. And most importantly, I'm sorry for allowing my rebellion to erase my knowledge of what I was made for. My story has God's glory all over it- because He is faithful and His truth is so healing and He blesses me beyond my vocabulary's capabilities- that during my pity party- God's work was still happening, and I wasn't telling of it! Amazing things have happened, even in the dark. Even when I was sad, God protected and loved and LAVISHED me. I'm tellin you now, you're gonna love hearing what He's done :) (and I bet, you're gonna laugh hearing what I was doing all the while, because it's all quite silly.)
God- give me a good memory- because I am ready to tell the story.

I write to bless,

~Rosie

know what you know you know

I know a lot. Don't get all judgmental- I'm not bragging. The only reason I know what I know is because I learn from my mistakes, which I assume, most people do. The thing I'm admitting when I say "I know a lot" is actually, "Folks, you'd be amazed at how many times I've messed things up". Yup, so really my bragging rights fall into sheepish truths I have to face.

On any given day, I suppose I enjoy "knowing a lot". But I seem to also be faced with the fine print of my mistakes on most given days, too. I feel I'm used to the little red print dancing around my life, kinda almost built in to "living on".

I wish I was built another way- like the geniuses of this planet who gain their knowledge through searching and studying. But, this girl was designed to learn the hard way. I'm not using it as an excuse for the messes I find myself in, mind you, it's just a reason. (No authority figure that I've used that saying on has liked the logic.) I don't really find solace in the reason; which is my justification for why it's NOT an excuse. It's just how things are for me- like gravity or geography- they are previously placed, thought out specifications by the Big Man for how things are gonna play out. I definitely didn't vote on it.

I can't say if I regret the design or not. I don't like coming to terms with failing, the rising above is always a neat story ,though (with great background music to boot).

I'm not certain why I'm writing this, it's not to complain about my current method of discovered knowledge or even to vent about past regrets. I think it's just to say: I know I'm not the only one who learns it the hard way. It's discouraging at times, yup. Tough, yup yup. But, at least I can say the lesson sticks pretty permanently when it comes about :)

working it: nursing style

I'm stoked-on a regular Monday. Week 3 at my new job, and I'm in love. I feel that this quick affection is ok, due to the long battle it has been job searching. Right now, I woulda been in love with Ronald McDonald himself if that's where I was working (but thank God, that's something I was spared---although I must admit, I applied there.)

I won't lie, the last year has been job hunting gory horror. I'm not being dramatic-anyone else been job searching in this glorious economy? Call me wimpy, but I feel like the newspapers warnings mean nothing til you're part of the unemployed percentage. This summer was spent in desperation trying to find a job before my parents came rushing out to Oregon to drag my little hiney home to Montana---(unbelievable amount of thanks go out to my Mom, Wes and my amazing Grandparents for all the help they've blessed me with!!!!) Aside from my dwindling financial circumstances, that threat was definite motivation for me! (As much as I miss Montana and love my family- Oregon is where I'm made to be...for certain!) But no amount of determined, slightly fear-based momentum was going to bust through the thick cloud of all the other fear-driven, over-qualified, hurting job excavators. For some reason, what I believed about myself and my impressive resume, just wasn't cutting it for the HR departments of the hundreds (no exaggeration) of jobs I applied for. The thought of being thrown into a pool of hundreds of other people- probably older and more experienced- just made me feel all the more powerless to impress. Do you wanna know what that does to a girl!? Well, for me at least, I constantly was second guessing my abilities, my worth, my capabilities and the appearance of that stupid lil resume (safe to say- that thing was revised more than I bet my first book will be!). I felt like I was the next contestant on the Bachelor: I didn't want to be there (not sure why any of those girls would actually wanna be thrown in the judgmental, dating lion pit like that)... I was desperate, vulnerable to someone else's whimsicle judgement and in competition with tons of other "betters"- constantly comparing myself to these hypothetical contendors (I of course never met any of the other applicants, but you can best believe in my mind they were more professional and prettier with amazing wardrobes and smart glasses.)
I wouldn't suggest anyone allow themselves to hang out in that state of mind- the "am I good enough" state of mind...It forces questions and doubts to the surface that I believe God's promises already have spoken against. But that's where I was.
I kept asking God, "Am I not good enough? Am I being punished? Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing?" I hate those questions. I hate the wondering (and the WAITING!!!). I hate the fact that when we ask those questions, it seems like God is waiting for us to figure out the answers to them on our own, or realize He's been speaking all along, we've just been too focused on doubting His affirmations to live like we know who we are.
At the end of the summer (and my rope), I was praying and really felt like God was saying "Stop applying for jobs (AND QUIT TWEAKING YOUR RESUME!!!! IT'S FINE!!!)" I didn't quite understand how God would provide a job for me when I wasn't the one doing the ground work of searching, but I guess that was part of the lesson---me getting a job wasn't because of my strength (and that PERFECT resume) but out of His gracious gift and provision. A week after I stopped going crazy on monster.com, my church just handed me a job. A job where I could take my daughter to hang out with me. A job where I got to work with christian women who were all so sweet and encouraging! A job where I could even have time to do my homework for college. Yup, those are the kinds of gifts God gives--- Perfect ones.
There was a lot I didn't understand about why God gave me that particular job: it still wasn't financially meeting all of my needs and definitely was for an area that I didn't seem to have much expertise in- children. (yes, I may have my own daughter, but there's a world of difference between MY child and other peoples' CHILDREN...) Haha. I guess the upside to that was a good deal of patience building exercizes and the support of again, very amazing co-worker women (all worth idolizing!)

But sometimes when God gives us something, and it comes to an end (especially when that end comes sooner than we anticipated), it's a tad bit confusing. I found myself back to job hunting (ugh...seriously) in February. All around, I had quite a few questions for God about this whole merry-go-round. Why would He give me a job that wasn't going to last or really work in the first place??? He knows how much I hate 'endings'...But as I began to re-enter the drownding pool/hole I SOOOO dreaded, yet seemed all too familiar with (unemployed and begging), I felt God do something a little different. My attitude was morphing from this angry, self doubting begger to a peaceful, joyful seeker of God's purpose. I had the same circumstances (actually a little bit worse financially), but it seemed like a switch had been flipped and I was hearing from God- "I got this, you know that, Rosie. Wait in peace not anxiety."
Job hunting still wasn't fun. (I am doubting job hunting will become an enjoyable passtime for anyone...) BUT- this time, I didn't have to force confidence or focus on that stupid resume. I just did what I had to do- keep applying and stop worrying- AND LIVE LIKE I REMEMBERED WHO GOD ALREADY SAID I WAS.
It took 4 weeks. That doesn't sound long, but when you have no income- it's a forever. In that time, I started a prayer/blessing wall in my kitchen. A bare space that originally I planned on painting turned into an everyday reminder that God was still speaking, still moving and still DOING even though I was in a stand-still. I would post little sticky notes and bits of paper of verses that friends gave me in encouragement, or things I would hear from random conversations or sermons that seemed to speak directly to my ever-changing heart. Day by day, God used those to do the dirty work- the ROSIE CHANGING work. The day I went for my first interview, I prayed over the print-out sheet I had made of the job posting. I put it on my wall. I had others pray for it. I wrote on it: "this is how good God is. this could be mine!" And guess what, it is mine now. And it happens to be a job that fits my little Rosie quirks more perfectly than I could have anticipated.
I am a medical assistant for a dermatologist, so I get my fix in the nursing/medical field. I get every other Monday off (everyone hates Mondays and happens to LOVE three day weekends!!!!) and now have medical coverage----FOR FREE. (I haven't had medical coverage for over 3 years--and I definitely need it!!!)
Of course, there is quite a bit of financial catch up I have to do, but I love this place. The place of still-dependant and in need, but the place where the sun is shining and God's path is illuminated and the only place to go is forward. God is good. Good at reminding. Good at restoring. Good at blessing.

(P.s. I work for Silver Falls Dermatology in Dr. Goodman's office---everyone should have a dermatologist- so come in, see me, and get yourself and your skin healthy!)

Vicissitude

I stole this word off a friend's fridge. For many reasons, I do not feel bad for stealing it. One: the guys who originally had it on their fridge have HUNDREDS of words on their fridge. Two: they couldn't define this word. IF they were able to, I'd give it back. Three: this word means more to me than it does them. HA! (And that, folks, is the kind of great debating you'd see from me if we were to ever be at war.)
Words rock my life. (Hence my active role in writing and my obvious obsession with talking.) I love word-play, word-games, word-flurries of expression, word-analogies, and dictionaries...Oh and thesauruses too!
Anyway, in case you haven't already done it, I am going to provide you with two reliable sources of the definition for this word, so that as I continue this blog- you aren't distracted by wondering what it means.

Dictionary.com
–noun
1. a change or variation occurring in the course of something.
2. interchange or alternation, as of states or things.
3. vicissitudes, successive, alternating, or changing phases or conditions, as of life or fortune; ups and downs: They remained friends through the vicissitudes of 40 years.
4. regular change or succession of one state or thing to another.

And then...a less reliable source, but humorous: (trust me, it was a shocker this word was even listed on this site...)
Urbandictionary.com

vicissitude
Quite literally change, or chaotic nature. Vicissitude would be used to describe the emotional state of mental patients or the chemical properties of nitro and glycerin.
Vicissitude is a word that is used mainly to belittle others in that very few people know it's meaning.

I am vicissitude. Not EXPERIENCING vicissitude. I am IT. Growing up, my friend's mom used to refer to me as "her effervescent daughter". I couldn't really deny that description. (If you're now being distracted by wondering what THAT means....–adjective
1. effervescing; bubbling.
2. vivacious; gay; lively; sparkling.
3. To show high spirits or animation.)
So, combine effervesc-ing with vicissitude-ing. Anyone wanna know what we have on our hands? Cataclysm. That could be a little dramatic on the description, but I feel right up there with world disaster.
I know I'm not the only one to struggle with change, or to struggle with a passionate opinion, so again, I'm not worried about you not relating. There have been moments in my life where my effervescence has bubbled right past what could have wrecked me. And there have also been moments where the life shifts have taken my passion and turned it right into my own poison. I'd like to claim some sort of middle ground between the two, saying that I sometimes just skirt through life unaffected and unaffecting, but realistically- I'm not even designed that way.
Right now, and if you can associate with this respond with an encouraging "AMEN, sista", I am in a turbulent season of change, instability, uncertainty and metaphorical disability.
Normally, I thrive off the unknown. I love adventure. Unexpected turns and interesting sights along the ride are adventurous. Exploring a new beginning is adventurous. Shifting of foundations and hidden plates deep under the surface is NOT adventure. That is a life shattering earth quake.
I would say I've learned a LOT about faith in the last 8 months. Probably very confident in the fact that I've gained 90% of my foundational understanding and practical application of the very thing more so now, than at any other point in my life.
The thing that is saving this vicissitudinal effervesc-ing mess? This concept:
I was reading in a bible study I am doing from Sheila Walsh called: Extraordinary Faith and one of the chapters was hashing out the topic of "count it as joy to be testing because in the end you will shine and God will have purified you". I wanted to really, just skip past this chapter. I have had a hard time counting testing as a joyful event let alone being able to see any future of shining like purified gold. But, thankfully I didn't. Because God revealed one more amazing thing about His character and MY season.
There's a million verses that talk about being tested, so it's not a new concept. Back then, the analogy they used a lot was testing from God was like the purification process of a precious metal. A few of the verses kept mentioning a "crucible". I knew what a crucible was from chemistry- the un-meltable, un-ruinable, ugly cup thing you can mess with chemicals in and not worry about them burning a hole through the bottom. It's basically indestructible to handle the chaos happening within it.
That very sentence melts my anxiety ridden heart. God is the crucible. God's faithful, unchanging self houses all the change, all the chaos, all the pain. He is the constant protecting us when life isn't as stable as we could hope. When we're undergoing cataclysmic change, he's there holding it. He even catches the bubbling spills that overflow.
I know I'm going to come out of this deal still a voluptuous ball of effervescing vicissitude. That's Rosie. God doesn't strip us of our personality in the fire. He purifies it. And I guess that's where I get the joy from. The thought of being more pure.

A Little Bit in Love....

With Jim Halpert....(there's actually a website for this childish obsession, but it's really not all that great so I'm not going to suggest you go look at it to get a better understanding of HOW I feel. Cuz you won't.)

I understand obsession with TV personalities might be a little unhealthy, and that I am not the only girl/woman/lady/female who has discovered Jim's undeniable lovability. Thankfully, in this case, BECAUSE he's not real, I don't feel IN competition with these other crazy ladies, but maybe a sense of comaraderie.(If I'm going to have a "type" and he's going to be fictional, I think at this point I WANT other women to agree with me, to lessen the feeling of insanity.) If guys want a good solid few hints on what works in the romance department, training from Mr. Halpert would be well worth their time :). (Really, Jim Halpert in all his humor and romantic ways, has a pretty good way of dealing with life. His style is also pretty irresistible...Just sayin'.)

I recognize that Hollywood is nearly half the source of unhealthy expectations when it comes to real relationships. I also get that even though I recognize that, doesn't mean I am immune to these unrealistic expectations. In my case, I would like to say that I am too "logical" for completely losing my brain over a fictional story line, so really, Hollywood isn't a SOURCE of my hopeless romantic side it's just the icing on an already very clearly baked cake. My issue, or unique way of hoping, has a deeper root, and honestly- I'm blaming God for that one.

Yes, I fell apart for Mr.Darcy, and who wouldn't want to be swept away like Rosie (not me..unfortunately) from Win a Date with Tad Hamilton? I get all prepared like every girl to take in every romantic aspect of great chic flicks like Pretty Woman and (dare I say it) The Notebook: Ice cream, great sweat pants, pedicures and probably even candles and wine if it's a good night. But I still maintain that it's not Hollywood's great casting ability (gorgeous guys loving gorgeous women incredibly really does send some girls...and guys if they were honest...right out of reality orbit and into another realm) or some screenwriter's ability to script a few amazing lines (gorgeous men saying incredible adulations to gorgeous women also seems to be quite the trap to moving from reality into the long lost world of daydreaming) that creates the amorous junkie that I seem to be.

I believe there are two parts to my blaming God on this one. First, the obvious, would be that it is safe to say and clear to most who know me, I am not a "little bit of anything". I am usually overly excited, over-achieving, overspent, over the line, overdue, overly affectionate, and always overly loud (all with a cheesy Miss America smile I can't seem to wipe off or unscrew for the life of me). So, it would make sense to just blame my design on also being overly hopeful in the guy department (although, you must know, my romanticism of life does not contain itself just to dating relationships...I also tend to spill that all over into my career circumstances, my friendships and any other normal life situations that I believe should be spiced up and beefed up with a good story). I know that somewhere along the line in my being created, there had to have been a bit of an accident or a joke or an experiment...(not that I believe God ever makes mistakes....so it probably is part of a joke/experiment all in one.) The second part is not only for me, and is definitely not speculation. God is a romancer, the ULTIMATE romancer if you will. Put the two together, Rosie (hopeless romantic) and God (ultimate romantic) and you have an equation for one cataclysmic life.

I have found something that seems to be quite the interesting positive correlation. The more I fall in love with Christ, and the more I understand about Christ being a husband who leads and loves unconditionally and providentially, the more I become a hopeless romantic. I can't decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, I develop such a taste for God's romance that nothing is worth settling for and seek after His more and more. On the other hand, I expect too much here on earth. Either way, boy does it create an ache inside this already over-worked heart of mine!

Without a doubt my favorite ideas on what my husband would look like are straight from God's descriptions (His word, of course...see 1 Tim 3) but I would add that there have been some phenomenal displays of my hopes in a few Hollywood men. And, I'm not going to lie, if guys learned from those two combined forces- well, life would be a different story... :D (a much more romantic one, to say the least)

Please don't close this by thinking I'm walking around waiting for my very own Jim Halpert- in all my unrealistic ideas, this is not an area I'm that far gone in. But I will say, I'm not settling for an option or a current circumstance because my God taught me He, Himself, provides a romance I can't get anywhere else. And that, I happen to be quite overly excited about.

Slogans Sell Chicken Feet To Suits

This life is a store- full of what we like, want and strive to have. I am a product in my own store- caught up in a salesman's journey of convincing. I know very well my own make, model and distinctive capabilities. "I am just what you need, I will make your life better." But wait, I think that was my old slogan- the one I used when I thought through undeniable shownmanship it could be proven that my worth far outweighed my cost and I was a helluva bargain. The people who jump on bargains are sucker-fish, not so much interested in the product as they are in having. (These people wear suits and smell expensive.) I could be "had" but then I'd never see appreciation. So, that slogan is out. I believe my next tactic could be outright declaring my worth-- for all to see. This could be a risky move, becuase it attracts crowds-yes- but often the most desperately drawn have nothing to offer in payment. They pine and hurt painfully for something they know not how to attain. I'm stuck with motionless loiterers. (These people DO NOT wear suits and smell of hot dogs. ) So here I am, thinking of my slogan. Contemplating how to protect myself from the undeserving and how to avoid teasing the unable. I'm off the shelf. No sale should go down this way. But stowed away from all other marketable things, I SEE...... I recognize buyers and their intentions. At times it is disgusting to observe the shopper with an acute hunger pang. It is terribly sad to see longing in $50 too short. I wish I could just stay up here away from that chaos, away from the crowded stealing and honest hard work being tiredly exchanged. But my maker is not in the business of designing uselessness. I have to get out there, I have to BE- regardless of my buyer's intentions. There is no salespitch- it is what it is. Maybe I am in the catering industry.

Get Your Reflection Straight

Being as it's a New YEAR- I'm going to be stereotypical...REFLECTION TIME!(Your expectation for the entire rest of this blog should be CHEESE. These New Year's deals are nothing but CHEESY- just promise me to keep reading.) I'm a big fan of nostalgia and I feel God is a big fan of periodic self-examination. Putting the two together gives you tears, growth and best of all HOPE. Regardless of how cliche it is to look over the past year and evaluate how it went and make a few vows to the coming year- I consider it slightly necessary. But in order to properly REFLECT on the past, I am going to advise, you better be properly seeing your current REFLECTION.

My daughter was examining her beauty in the reflection of the window. The long drive and quickly blackening sky meant she was running out of constructive ideas of how to entertain herself until she drifted off to sleep. I had my rear-view mirror strategically turned so I could see her and she could see me. (Us animated types feel 80% of conversation rests in the facial expressions, so proper viewing in the car is essential to our communication.) She caught me watching her fluffing her hair and putting on imaginary make-up (while watching the road, I promise...it's a talent of mine). "I'm pretty, huh, Mom?" "The prettiest thing I know," I truthfully spoke. She smiled as if I had never said that exact response before and turned back to primping. "Hey, Mom! Guess what!!! I think my hair is turning blonde!!!" I tried not to laugh, because Zoe hates it when I don't take her seriously (how can I with comments like that?!?!) "Zoe, you're hair is ALREADY blonde." And then, the best blonde joke's punch line exited my daughter's excited face, "I AM!?! AWESOME!"

I'd like to end that story with "I don't know where in the world she gets it from", but I can't start this whole thing out by lying :( ... I do the same thing, not with my hair color mind you, but my CHARACTER. I look in the mirror and see what my emotions tell me to see. I do this over and over and pretty soon I've forgotten who GOD has said I am. Then, when it comes to my attention what I should be seeing- I am shocked. Sometimes embarrassingly so, because all this while I've been throwing myself together in front of the mirror thinking "this works, this is good enough" just to find out I've slowly let my true design go. I'm caught replacing my God given beauty with hurried and careless cover-up when deep cleansing was really in order. (Facially speaking, we all know what this means----it catches up to us in the form of pussy ol' zits.) The flipside to that is seeing a woman who is just not enough day after day staring back at me. Then, God in His everlovin' blessin' heart, re-introduces the girl HE actually sees. It's flattering, but in a very painful and humbling way. (How is it He sees grace in the middle of a frumpy mess?) I hate knowing I spend the majority of my time on this side of the mirror telling myself things OTHER than what God speaks to me and about me. Can't my mirror just grab God's eyes and keep them there- so even on days I haven't equipped my OWN eyes, I can still see what HE sees?!? I do believe my silly mirror has a personality of its own, can I talk it into hookin up with God to get that set up? (anyone else NOT believe mirrors have personalities? check out peopleofwalmart.com...those people had mirrors that LIE...) Seriously though, if I don't figure out a way to perceive myself well, (really the only good way to see ourselves is through God's eyes...we can be "self aware" all we want, but if it isn't by God's truth, we got some awareness comin our way....) how can I reflect on who I have been and even try to dream of who I want to be? How can I know what God is asking me to do if I don't even know who He sees as He's calling?

Sometimes, I worry- if God was interviewed and then I were to be separately questioned- we would have completely different answers on "who is Rosie". (I am doubting I'm alone on this issue of reflection perception.) I want to get to a point where we describe the same person, because my sight is from His. In looking back over the year, I want us to be describing the same year. (We all know how one event can have MANY different stories depending on the witness...In this case---different stories equals a bit of a mess---misdirection, confusion...you know it...)I want to see my failures, my growth, my blessings and my losses the way God sees them, so that in the end- I see one more bit of His intricate story. I want HIS take on my story, not mine (mine is quite a bit more cynical at times, a lot less patient and sometimes overly excited about things that aren't even part of the real plot.)

When I wake up in the morning and move toward the daring eye shadow and finish with the cute new shoes, I still want to see the clean bride God called from the very beginning. So---along with all this New Years reflecting business, I am doing a little work on my REFLECTION. I don't want to coerce my mirror to lie to me (although sometimes I'd love to be as "uninformed" as many naive'ins...) and I can't train my own eyes to see beyond their human capabilities. But I learned something pretty cool a while back....(I can only hope all you ladies are pretty excited to hear the trick...). I, like all other women on this planet, was having a fat day---more like a fat month. I was REALLY degrading myself in the mirror (can't imagine God was all too flattered by the continual disgust of my image). I even was praying that God would help me see me the way He did, so I would get out of this weird "self-criticizing" mode. One day, I had people over to my house to pray, we were moving from room to room anointing certain things in the rooms and out of nowhere a guy friend of mine (he DEFINITELY didn't know I'd been struggling with my reflection) just walked up to the mirror in my room and anointed it and started praying the very prayer I had been pleading for quite some time. Revolutionary! So, do it. Anoint your mirrors (even if not literally, metaphorically, get those mirrors introduced to some Holy Spirit vision). The Holy Spirit is God IN us, and in this case that would be the exact set of glasses we need to be looking at the world through- including when we're looking at ourselves.


Beautiful reflection=joyful reflecting.
I want my story to be a joy even when it's painful- I want to be a joy even when I'm not perfect. The only way to capture that is to grasp God's vision for us while He sees it all.
Inaccurate perceptions=misguided assumptions.
I'm the queen of assumptions (hence the "long way around" life I've mostly lived) and I have ended up in a lot of dead ends because I took a bunny trail based off my own perceived truth. God, Your truth is the only one I'll accept, even when the mirror seems to argue. :)

Launchin it

So, there's a reason I've put off joining this internet fad. It's not because I wanted to rebel against what everyone else is doing these days. And it's not because I feared no one would read my life wonderments and mind wanderings (considering there are a lot of bloggers who AREN'T funny and AREN'T interesting and people still read their ramblings). I've actually WANTED to jump fingers first into this lawless form of personal expression! It's quite enticing to the amateur writer I am and the professional opinionist I pretend to be to have the imaginary offer of writing for the largest communication portal AND get to completely control and freely choose what I write about....
The honest hold-up happens to be an issue of commitment. I, being both an aspiring writer and a bit of an over-achiever, wanted to do this thing RIGHT- columnist style. Routine, yet readable by people OTHER than family members and long distance friends who want to keep up on Zoe's entertaining doings (sorry Mom, this is not the place to read about what Zoe did at school today or how I had an epic fail at cooking). And with my crazy life, not starting the blog I would take all-to-seriously was a better option than failing by quitting mid-sentence.
But, I want this now. :) I am committed. :) (applause please) So here it is... regular AND unpredictable in one place. MY NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION! (also my way of substituting any sort of ridiculous weight loss promises)---Treadmill for the writer. Better than some stupid work out regime, this is an exercise program for what I really am doing behind the scenes- a book. (gasp in excitement please)
Blogging is hopefully going to act as not only my personal trainer, but my filter, my executive idea manager and my "get it out of your system because this is NOT going in the book" outlet. :) (I also don't get to make smiley faces in my book, which, for me, is really difficult to abide by...personally I'd like to be the first GOOD author who breaks that rule and just emoticons the hell out of my book...but, that idea hasn't sold...so...maybe AFTER I'm famous...)
So, as a cheaper alternative to the newspaper with a significantly minimal amount of information on responsible life (economy, presidential sillyness, and weather) and hopefully an incredibly grandiose amount of hilarity and maybe a bit of wisdom...(we'll see)HERE IS MY BLOG. Get excited. :)