Static: Tune It Out.

Time has a way of flying by at warp speed and I don't realize how fast my spaceship of crazy is actually going until I look at a calendar and let it all sink in.  To say life has been hectic since last we met, is an understatement.  I am a broken record.  Much of my blog in the last 18 months coincided with some really challenging times as a grown-up.  Adulting sucks at times and finding reasons to love and appreciate trials is basically the hardest thing you can have handed to you.  And the longer those trials drag on, the harder it gets.  But, I've learned a few new coping skills that I want to share with all of you so that maybe one of you, maybe more, will take comfort in my crazy and know that there is sunshine on the other side of that shit storm you feel like is NEVER GOING TO END.  

Small Blessings Are Huge Answers to Prayers: I am so grateful to know that I can pray to a God who I know is aware of me and loves me, in spite of my long list of imperfections.  Even when I'm making choices that some might raise their eyebrows at, He is always right there by my side, quietly guiding my footsteps towards my destiny. When I chose to uproot my life in Utah, I knew that the transition was going to be hard.  But, that was when I had it all mapped out and everything was planned in a perfect little way and I could handle THAT.  Well, then my plot had a big fat twist in it and everything went exactly the opposite of what I thought I wanted.  Little did I know that this breaking of my perfect pieces meant that I could be put back together and healed.  I beat myself up over finally being honest with someone who I thought I loved and they did nothing.  Their silence, their utter weakness, felt like it was my fault.  It was not.  It is not.  He's an idiot.  I'm better off.  The end.  The letting go was a small blessing, but a huge answer to a tough prayer to utter.  I purged my hate disguised as love and moved forward.

Turn off the Static: Growing up in Southeastern Montana meant a lot of time on the road with no radio stations.  This was the era of cassette tapes aka no smart phones or bluetooth, so it could get a little interesting if you had a long distance to drive and only so many tapes.  It was rare that I would just allow myself to drive in silence because I was always afraid I would fall asleep at the wheel because of the boredom of quiet.  Fast-forwarding to present day and I still find myself hitting patches of road here in Idaho where there are no radio stations; just static.  Even though I have my trusty iPhone with Pandora and iTunes, they only work if I have cell service which is still spotty.  Because of this fact, I now allow myself to drive in silence at times.  I allow the static to be silenced.  Our lives are like that too.  Many times we want to have the noise all the time.  Noise means our brain is focused on something else.  Noise means we don't have to cope.  Noise means masking reality.  But, if we will turn off the static in our lives and let our heart and mind drink in the peace of quiet, we will discover parts of our soul that hasn't seen the light of day in a VERY long time.  Parts of our soul that need way more nurturing than we give credit.  I found a lost part of my soul when I turned off the noise and centered back to my heart and what it really needed and it was a remarkable breakthrough for me.

Look to the Light of Family & Friends: At one point this year there were three people in my immediate family without work; I was one of them.  If you've never experienced the stress of unemployment I pray you don't have to experience it EVER.  It's rough.  It's just not pleasant.  However, it has taught me to turn to the light that is family and friends.  The list of blessings is vast, but I could not have survived without countless FaceTime calls with my Colorado loves, the GIANT warm chocolate chip cookie that showed up on my doorstep one day, the encouraging words nearly every day, and the opportunity to cry when I needed to cry.  That run-on sentence can't be broken because it truly symbolizes that I kept moving.  I kept holding on when I wanted to break up with my crappy life.  But, I didn't. I kept going.  My version of moving forward soon became known as "Ray the Neigborhood Nanny." A smidge of magical Mary Poppins, a smidge of sassy swearing sailor, a bit of old-fashioned school marm and an enabler of soda fountain mixed drinks addictions. It was the SWEET life and I felt loved and needed and that was the glue putting my pieces back together.  Plus now my besties kids LOVE me.  More than they already did.  It's awesome.  I conned my niece with the promise of Starbucks tonight!  Muwhahahahahahaha, Neighborhood Nanny is also a bit of a villain.  That's the redheaded older sister in me.

Tell Yourself, "It Will Be Ok." and Believe It: I have a sister who hates quotes on signs or the wall.  It's super trendy these days, especially in Utah, and she is a ranty rage when we ask her if she wants a quote on her dining room wall.  I, on the other hand, welcome all the wordsy reminders I can get, to help me stay calm and practice true self-care.  When I lived in Ogden, my bathroom mirror was "words of affirmation" central.  I put them in the bathroom because I spent a lot of time in there getting ready for the day and that's when I needed to remind myself that everything would be ok.  The more I walked in my bathroom and read my own affirmations out loud, the more I believed it.  The brain is a powerful tool.  It can either help or hurt you.  Now that my bathroom is a shared space and upstairs, I have my affirmations tacked on my bedroom wall and I still read them daily.  It did turn out, I did get the good job, and whoever the future baby daddy is actually supposed to be; he is out there in the universe being groomed to what I need most.  But, he better not shave off his beard or I'm folding on that birthing plan.

This little bloggy blog is my place to share some sunshine and I hope that it can continue to be that for my readers as well.  I want you all to know that we CAN face the shit storm with humor, poise and faith.  And when all else fails, just remember....

The moral of the story: You can always be the neighborhood nanny to someone and lend your time and love in times of need, both for you and them.

Until next time, my lovelies
-R

Be sure to check out the biz side of "Let It Be & Celebrate" by visiting www.beyoudesignsut.co

Five.

This week marked a big milestone for me. On Thursday, March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, I celebrated my 5 year anniversary since I buttoned up organized therapy.  I ended therapy on St. Patrick's Day on purpose.  I LOVE the holiday (it's that redhead in me) and I always wanted to remember the end with a happy day.  If I was a drinker I would maybe have an extra drink, but alas, I am not, so I had a big fat piece of sinful 7 layer chocolate cake in my princess bed and it was glorious.  

I've written about my experiences in therapy and post therapy a number of times on le blog. There is a lot about the therapy process that is still so wrought with stigmas and misconceptions in the media and I've tried to be as open and honest as I can about the process and what I learned.  There is also a part of my experience that purposely is staying in the past.  It includes the mistakes, the heartaches and the toxic pain that I shed through the help of my amazing therapist.  History remains history and there is just some of it that I don't need or want to talk about.  I know I have a lot of readers who have struggled with the process of therapy and didn't feel like it helped them.  Today I am going to be very real and very honest so that you can see that therapy didn't actually cure me.  Therapy made me a better me so that I could face life differently.  But, it sure as hell did not cure me. 

The first thing I want you to know about therapy: there is absolutely no shame in seeking help.  There is immense value in talking to a third party that you are not emotionally connected with in any way other than the fact that you air your dirty laundry to them and they take notes and offer suggestions for coping.  These brave souls who have chosen the career of mental health specialists are highly educated and wired to take on the analysis of our lives and brains.  God bless them because I couldn't do it.  I know enough about people and their weirdness through my chosen profession, but I don't need to know more.  Much of the shame that we may feel is because our brains are so mucked up with trying to deal that they want us to give up so that the wiring doesn't have to change.  However, just like a well-maintained engine, our brains do so much better when they are oiled and monitored and flushed on a periodic basis and therapy can serve that purpose if we will let it.  

The second thing I want you to know about therapy: it is only as good as how you apply it in your every day life.  I was TERRIFIED to end my time with Jennifer because I knew it meant I had to deal on my own.  It was scary to think about having relationships and facing life challenges after I was done checking in with her.  I made absolutely sure that I was ready to fly on my own, but I also had a long list of things that I kept and still keep close to my heart.  What are my triggers?  Who are my triggers?  What calms me down?  What can I let slide and what do I have to always do when I'm having a tough mental health day?  How do I stop myself from the avalanche of "what ifs" that I'm so good at doing?  Who do I trust implicitly with all the hairy details and who am I on a "need to know, surface only" basis?  The list goes on and on.  More than once I have had to sit myself down and have a mental tune-up to get myself back on track after a big event or boulder fell out of the sky.  2015 anyone?  My most recent therapy post talked about a pair of shoes that reminded me of a terribly awful relationship mistake that I made.  In the post I talked about keeping them as a reminder of what I had accomplished.  I am happy to report, that because of my own blog post and the triggers that I set off (boo to me), I ended up getting rid of those hot polka-dotted vintage inspired pumps because they (a silly pair of shoes) were a trigger and they needed to go.  Talk about a weight lifted when I don't see the lurking reminder in my closet anymore.  

The third thing I want you to know about therapy: you are still going to have hard days.  You're going to have completely shitty, sad, crying, awful, hard-as-hell days.  But, you will also have days when you will think, "wow, pre-therapy me would have crumbled quicker and longer in this scenario than post-therapy me." My knees still get bruised and bloody when I fall and my heart still breaks when a relationship ends or someone dies.  But, how I treat myself and how I work through it compared to pre-therapy is light years different.  I still ache to have a better reality in regards to a couple of things in my life, but I know that gratitude conquers all and with that I relish in what I DO have and let the rest go.  

The fourth thing I want you to know about therapy:  Decide that you will not settle for any type of treatment or abuse that will put you right back to where you were pre-therapy. THIS takes practice and a whole hell of a lot of effort. I'm still finding out little quirks and nuances that I thought were fully addressed are, in fact, still a raging issue if I'm not careful. I've had some conversations with my friends that have recently divorced when I asked them, "what went wrong on both sides and how will you improve yourself the next time?" There are a lot of people, myself included, who have a hard time admitting they were wrong and at fault and that they need to use their picker with more prudence next time. If your surroundings need to change for your therapy to stick, then move.  Have the faith to do it.  If you need to have a sitter to watch your kids so you can go to the gym, then MAKE IT HAPPEN and go to the gym.  If you need friends who don't encourage you to drink like a crazy person or use drugs, then bravely cut them off and find new friends.  If you need to have a date night and some good loving calendared with your sweetheart then write it on the damn calendar and do it!  Remember how I said therapy is only as good as you apply it to your daily life?  Well it is.  Trust me.  Don't spend all that money, time and effort and expect no change necessary.  That is a LIE.  Change is the point.  Change is the healer.  

The fifth thing I want you to know about therapy: You can go back.  Jennifer called them booster visits and I've had a few.  The funny part about mine was that we usually chuckled together because I knew what I needed to do and was well on my way to the right path.  Going to see her for a booster visit was mostly for validation that I was, in fact, coping like a boss without her.  I've kept in contact with her and will send her a periodic email from time-to-time just to solidify that I'm doing well and that she's still there.  I've referred a lot of friends to her. When it came time to leave Utah, I promise you that I had a conscious thought process that included "what if I ever need to go see Jennifer? Will this next home be close enough that I could do that?"  The answer is yes, but I'm confident that I probably won't need to use that lifeline because I am using her advice every day as best I can.  

I am grateful for this milestone.  It has not been an easy 5 years.  Holy hell, at times, it has been everything but easy. I've felt a lot of anger and hate, but I've also learned to deeply, truly love others and myself and I know that my choice to give organized therapy a shot is the reason why.  Don't give up on yourself. Talk to someone who can help you trudge through your sorrow and confusion.

The moral of the story: Breathe. Trust. Love. Have faith in the timing AND the process.  And most of all work.  Work very very hard to be your best you in spite of your imperfections.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

la la la la....life goes on!

The other day I sent a text to my amazing friend that went something like this, "I can tell spring is around the corner here because I feel better and I'm actually happy." Then I took the time to look at my Instagram photos towards the end of 2015 and compare them to those in the last month and I thought, "who is that incredibly happy looking lady?" And lastly, as my bestie and I were road trippin' this past weekend, one of my favorite Beatles hits,  "Ob-la-di ob-la-da" came on Pandora and it hit me, 'la la la la....life goes on' is LEGIT and I am happy freaking proof.

"Ob-la-di ob-la-da" is one of those songs that causes me to stop what I'm doing, smile like crazy, turn up the volume, dance and sing along. The funny thing is, the lyrics are pretty silly and simple. It's about life. Life that is happy and real and moving forward for a girl and a boy named Molly and Desmond Jones. Molly is a singer in a band and Desmond has a barrow in the market place and really likes her face.

Life HAS moved on for me and I am so incredibly happy. There is laughter, there is love, there is success, but most of all there is a lot of liking my own face. I have so much to be grateful for, but most of all I am grateful to look in the mirror and SEE my happy which also means seeing the peace. That's a challenging task for someone who has spent a few too many days "faking it to make it" in her life. When I can see and feel the same, I count it as a red letter banner day. We all know that I don't sugar coat anything so let's muse for a moment about the things that I had to do to make this possible. I have learned over and over and over in life, NOTHING comes for free and it especially doesn't come without effort.

Make Time For Quiet. I experienced a lot of noise when I made the decision to relocate out-of-state. Noise was defined as tying loose ends with my apartment lease, cancelling all the utilities, changing addresses, saying good bye to the VIP list of friends that I would miss dearly and on and on and on. When I first arrived here, I was still faced with a lot of noise as I started a new job and all the joys that went along with it. I quickly found that the times when I could sit and snuggle in a quiet place were therapeutic and absolutely necessary because my brain was forced to be quiet and THAT is as good as gold for a mental health warrior princess such as myself. One of my favorite things to do in my quiet time is read. Reading has been a place of solace for me this past year and that didn't change when the scenery changed.

Don't Force The Routine.  I am a pretty chill control freak. That means that I like order in my career, but I don't stress about the laundry not getting folded TODAY on the home-front, but I go ape shit cray if someone messes with my desk at work or doesn't follow clearly written policy. Oxymoron incarnate?  Yes.  Do I care what you think about that? Nope. What I've learned to embrace at home (don't sweat folding the laundry if you're having a bad mental health day) has been grossly overdue at work and vice versa at home (aka I probably SHOULD care about the laundry not being folded). Whenever I start a new job I am full throttle and want to transition as fast as possible because transition is awkward and painful and NOT fun. After some really challenging lessons last year I learned that I needed to slow the hell down in my career and be a little bit more chill during the transition phase. I've done my best so far and it was like clockwork when I hit the one month mark and suddenly the honeymoon period was O-ver and I was forced to be bad ass boss lady again and make things happen now.

Celebrate The Small Victories. I keep my career and those details out of my blog life because they are separate. However, I made a big decision to come back to a career that was suffocating me in Utah. It was a big leap of faith for me and I've had a few days this year that I've thought, "what the hell was I thinking coming back?" But then, I had multiple days last week when my team's efforts were manifested in small, yet big victories within our company. Last week I sat at my desk for at least a half hour and just soaked in the pure joy of seeing the fruits of my labors pop up in emails. I also took the opportunity to take myself to dinner as a celebration of this huge step. Don't short change yourself of the celebration that should come when you accomplish small, yet important, tasks in your life. They ALL matter so treat them that way.

Ditch The Toxic. I accumulated some toxic when I lived in Utah. Some toxic air to breathe for 4 months during the winter, attitudes, habits and people. Just as I had to purge a lot of physical items out of my house to make this move possible, I had to purge the other toxins out of my life too. It's not an easy task to tell someone in your life that they are a ridiculous excuse of a human and that you will no longer expend energy to care about them when they clearly do NOT care back. It's also really challenging to step away from social media sources that are a constant reminder of what you miss in the former home, but also reminds you of the ticking time bomb that your life was in 2015.  Have the courage to walk away and close the chapter.  I will also tell you that as you ditch the toxic, the happy has more room to exist and gives you the chance to see life in a whole new light and it is beautiful.

Try New Things. One of the inevitable realities that comes with moving to a new place are the new things to do and see. From the moment I arrived in Idaho, I started seeking out new things to do and see. I knew I needed a non-profit to volunteer with so I started to google about my chosen causes. I knew I liked to support local restaurants so I figured out who they were and when I was going to try their cuisine. I knew I had a lot of Saturdays that needed filling with solo adventures so I figured out where those places were and how the heck to get there. I knew I had some overdue winter bucket list items that needed to be crossed off the list so I made plans to do them in an effort to appreciate my colder, healthier surroundings. Oh, and in my first week here, trying new things translated to fried cheesecake. Uh, hello, fried treat of absolute sinful goodness! Where have you been all my life?????

Trust The Timing. I'm a planner and I have some very specific personal goals that I need to accomplish in 2016. Some of them are quite daunting on paper and it's been really challenging to swallow the reality that some of these goals are not happening overnight.  In fact, none of them are happening overnight. I don't have a magic wand or a twitching nose full of witchcraft. Damn it, but I don't. So why do I think it will just magically poof itself fixed? I've made a promise to myself that I will continue to trust in the timing of my life and not let the looming goals and hopes and dreams take over my here and now because my here and now is pretty damn amazing and peaceful. This one has especially been hard for a couple matters of the heart, but I've handed that messy, frustrating shit over to the big man upstairs because I don't have a crystal ball or magic eight ball that actually work. Le sigh.

The final words of the song go like this, "Yeah, ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on bra
La-la how the life goes on
Yeah, ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on bra
La-la how the life goes on
And if you want some fun
Take ob-la-di ob-la-da"

Life is fun. Life is still hard and challenging, but it is moving forward one day at a time. To those of you who are sitting in a chapter of life in which you think that things will never change, please know that it WILL if you make the effort to keep moving and singing and celebrating the small victories. You will get through your challenges that are set before you today. Tomorrow offers you another chance at living and loving and I know that you can do it. Don't lose hope and don't short change yourself from seeking the help and support that is right there waiting for you to utilize.

The moral of the story: life ABSOLUTELY goes on.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

::GUEST BLOGGER:: Independence.

Note from Raylynn:

Happy 4th of July, my lovelies!  I am honored and very pleased to turn the blog over to Ashley Merical as she shares her perspective on being the daughter of a soldier and the sacrifices her family has made for our freedom.  I grew up with Ashley's stepmother in Miles City, Montana and I could not be more humbled to share this with all of you.  Freedom ALWAYS comes at a price for someone.  God Bless our America and those who have kept it free.  Until next time, my lovelies!  -R

Independence means something different to everyone. However, when speaking of the independence of our great nation most agree that independence means we get to choose the lives we lead and make our own choices. Every Fourth of July our nation is seen shooting fireworks, having parties and parades to celebrate our independence. Although who pays the price for this sweet freedom? This freedom comes at no cost to many Americans, however for the families of the men and women in our military; this freedom means something very different. This means sacrifice, dedication and fear. Some might even say that their freedom tastes sweeter because they know what it costs to maintain this independence most take for granted. Whether you agree or disagree with the reasons we are still in this war is irrelevant. The soldiers who fight this battle do not choose why, they do not even choose when, these choices are made by the government, not the soldier.

These men and women choose loyalty to their country above all else, even above family. My father Kord Merical was deployed to Afghanistan April of 2012; this story is insight to how his deployment affected our family, as told from my point of view. Though my father did not pay the ultimate price for freedom, he still paid a cost greater than many know.  I would like to dedicate this piece to every military family and say thank you, I know how hard it can be to serve your country.

Kord Merical served in the United States Marine Corps from 1989-1993. During this time Kord was deployed to Iraq. Once the end his four years were up on his enlistment Kord chose not to re-enlist because he wanted to be a family man and the Marine Corps demanded too much time.  Fast forward about 14 years later and Kord enlisted in the National Guard.  He always had a passion for the military and he felt that the National Guard would not require as much of his time as the Marine Corps. However, as the war in the Middle East continued, more and more of our soldiers from all branches were beginning to be called to battle.

I am Kord’s oldest daughter; I was the oldest child still living at home at the time of his deployment. It was the end of my junior year of high school when he had to leave. I will never forget that day. The way it felt. I have never felt so much pressure through the entire core of my body. There is no lower feeling in the world than watching your hero walk onto a plane and wondering if you will ever see him return. The whole weekend you spend as much time with your family as possible. You are constantly shuffled from one support meeting to the next, it is all part of what the military calls “family readiness.” The whole time you are well aware of what is going to happen at the end of the weekend, yet somehow you believe time will stop, that you will never really have to say goodbye. Then suddenly you find yourself waking up one morning getting showered and ready for the very moment you have “prepared” for all weekend. The hotel room falls silent as everyone finishes up brushing their hair and spritzing with hairspray. Finally, reality sets in as you stand on the tarmac with all of the other families, the sounds of cameras clicking, tears falling and boots shuffling.

I remember looking at my sisters, and my step-mom, Heather, who at the time was 5 months pregnant with my baby brother Kordell. As I looked at them I grew worried. How were we supposed to manage on our own for a year without Dad? Dad was such a huge part of our success; he was supportive, funny and yet stern when he needed to be. How were we supposed to have a baby, help Hadley, who was three at the time, understand why daddy had to leave for so long? I was hollow. I couldn’t imagine how Heather, my stepmom felt. She was pregnant, had Kaylee, Hadley and me. I was born with a rare form of Muscular Dystrophy, even though I am extremely mobile outside of my chair it is still harder to go places and manage. I worried that I would be more of a burden than a help to my family while Dad was gone. So as we all clung to Dad, tears streaming down our faces we whispered how much we loved him and how much meant to us assuring him that not one day would go by without us thinking of him and missing him. Then it was time. He stood tall, shoulders proud; he walked to where his men were standing, fell into formation and stepped onto the plane. The goose bumps spread through the entirety of my body.

There we were, holding hands, sobbing; watching the plane wheels leave the ground, and as I held my grandfather’s hand I looked up at that small white speck in the sky and prayed time would fly. We made our way back to the car, cleaned ourselves up, and had a few empty laughs. We stopped at Perkins on our way out of Billings knowing that no one was really hungry. As we drove home we struggled to find conversation desperate to forget about what we had just done. Soon we found ourselves back in Miles City, MT at that menacing front door.  If you have never lived this situation it will be hard for you to fully grasp because saying goodbye to a soldier on their way overseas is nothing like saying goodbye to a family member who is moving or if you are leaving for a long period of time. It is much more daunting and uncertain to say goodbye to a soldier. I prayed every day that he would be safe thinking that if anything were to happen to him over there our family would never smile again. Now as the days passed his absence was still very present, although we grew more comfortable with the empty seat on the couch.

The new routine suited us well; all of us girls grew very close that year, especially Heather and I. Suddenly we became more supportive and aware of each other as we learned how to cope. Then the baby came. The emotions of that day are still just as raw as the day Dad stepped on the plane. Heather gave birth to a beautiful son; Dad was on skype watching but still painfully aware of the fact that his child wouldn’t feel his touch for another eight months. Heather wondering how she was going to be a new Mommy while caring for the other three children all on her own. I have never known more people as brave as Heather and my father.  But there he was the most beautiful pink bundle. I wasn’t in the room during Heather’s labor or delivery, her mother, father, stepmother and other family members were there with her, and I came as soon as she called saying it was time to meet the baby. He was named Kordell because we wanted him to be named after Kord, but still have his own unique name. Then it was time to bring the baby home and a whole new adventure began.

The first week was ok. Kordell grew fussier and fussier. We tried everything from changing formula to changing how much how many ounces in the bottle. Until one day my grandfather found a lump on his leg. After many doctors’ appointments we discovered that Kordell had Caffey’s Disease.  A rare disease where there is excess bone on the leg and arm bones and as the child grows it stretches out and eventually the bone grows into normal size again. Usually by the time the child is three years old they grow out of it. However it is painful when they hit growth spurts. There were many sleepless nights where Heather, her step mother, and I stayed up holding him as he screamed, all we could do was try to make him as comfortable as possible as we took turns soothing him. Dad was even more stressed now that Kordell was sick and we were on our own.  Although again we found our rhythm, our routine with the new baby became normal and we girls grew even closer as we all took care of each other and Heather and I both worked hard to parent the children. Pretty soon the months were flying by.

We grew used to our new life and before we knew it, it was time to pick up our soldier. We were all so excited yet nervous at the same time. We knew it would be hard for us to forget the roles we had taken while he was away and go back to the way we lived before he left. So much had changed; I mean we had another member of the family. Once we got to Billings it seemed as though time had stopped. It was March of 2013. It had started to lightly snow as the soldiers stepped off of the plane. The whistles and cries of hello and excited bustle erupted from the crowd of families.

He made his way through the crowd, eager to meet his youngest son, and he hug each of us. Then he found us, taking Kordell in one hand and Hadley we all formed a small circle taking in all of emotion and the shock of seeing him standing so close; so within reach when he had been unreachable for 12 months. Then the celebrations began, we went to Applebee’s, although I think we were all a little too excited to eat. Except for Dad, he was beyond excited to be going to an American restaurant.

Once the newness wore off and we began to transition into everyday life again things became more stressful. My role as co-parent was over which was hard, I think for Kordell that took some getting used too. The little man was eight months old and he was not used to having a man in the house. That was hard for me. We had a routine that we were all used to and now we had to adjust and re-incorporate him into our lives. However, any problems there were adjusting; it was well worth it to have him home again.

The fourth of July meant more to us that year than just barbecues and fireworks in the park. We finally understood how great our freedom was and what it meant to maintain that freedom. Every day he was gone we prayed and wished the days would fly by and then when he finally got home we prayed some more and thanked God for keeping him safe and making us strong. That year warranted more growth in our family than any other year thus far. I am so proud to call Kord Merical my father because as hard as our year was, it was nothing compared to the year he had. I couldn’t imagine having to be that far from your family not being able to help them, and doing the job he had to do, fighting the battles he had to fight and being in a constant state of stress all while maintaining his famous smile.

So... this Fourth of July take a moment to reflect upon what this holiday means and the families who have fought to keep that holiday.

Timing

Do you ever feel like your biggest battle in life is with time? I know I do. I think as women we are inherently wired to be clock watchers and time keepers. Sleep schedules, feeding time, body clocks, work schedules, church schedules, that time of the month or how far away it is or isn't. I know that God is in my details and in all our details but sometimes I just wish I could stop time in those good euphoric moments and break out my magic wand in those "what the hell just happened" moments.  Enjoying the simple moments is what it's all about because there are way more of those than anything else and that's what I/we need to hold on to for dear life.

Those are words I wrote a couple months ago along with the above picture on my Instagram. I have had a seriously rough year professionally but have been quite blessed personally. That is a TOUGH situation to be in because I am a one-lady show and if the fundage isn't there I don't survive. I have to dig deep every single day to stay motivated and full of faith to show up. I hate it. I want to be successful according to their terms so I can continue my happy life in the 'hood. I have no clue where God will put me next but I will bloom where I am planted. I hate timing. Hate. Hate. Hate. Because if I had my way I would be in a tshirt and jeans with my rockin messy bun and loving on kids with too much homework and messy faces. But that's not my mission just yet. We all have a purpose, we all have a chapter..

The moral of the story: God is in the details. And I've got to trust it will all be ok. Damn it. That's too hard some days. 

Until next time, my lovelies.

-R