The Waiting

I decided I was not going to apply for any more internal jobs.
I decided I was going to focus on looking for jobs elsewhere in Indiana.
I applied. I researched. I updated my resume.

I made calls, and prayed, and talked to people.

I got nowhere.

I learned to sew.
I painted a coffee/game table.

I got nowhere.

On one trip home, during Christmas time, I was at my parents' church.  I was broken-hearted knowing that I would have to leave home to go home. Al walked up to the front of the church and spoke.

"There is someone here who feels like God is not listening to you. But, He is. He knows exactly what you are looking for, and He has not forgotten you."

I felt the spotlight shining on me. He was talking to me. Of course he was. In that moment I was reminded again that God had great plans for me. Too bad being human takes its toll.

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The Middle and the Story of a Craft Cabinet

I talked with my manager.
My job, as a manager would not allow me to work from home- not on a long term basis anyway. Where I work, however, there are opportunities for "virtual" roles. Perfect situation in my mind. I had been with my company 9 years, and I didn't quite like the idea of quitting.  Aside from that, once ten years of service have been reached, an additional week of vacation is added, and who doesn't like vacation? 

Cue the months and months of applying for roles, and being turned down, one after the other.

Does God not hear me? Or, maybe I'm missing something. Maybe I'm selfish, and God's plans are different from what I'm wanting.

Cue the pity party.

I was at home laying on my couch after receiving another rejection. I pulled up Pinterest (Oh, how I love thee), and saw a beautiful craft cabinet.  I prayed then. A selfish prayer, but a prayer, none the less. "God, please help me to find something similar to this. I know that it won't be exactly the same, but help me to find something similar."

That evening I set out with my friend Cindy (my thrifter friend extraordinaire) and we headed out to one of her favorite thrift locations. We walked around the store, and to the back where they had their large furniture pieces.  I could not have been there more than 10 minutes when I found it. It was the craft cabinet of my dreams. I was beyond ecstatic.  The thing was huge, and I was certain I was looking at hundreds of dollars.  It was actually marked only $60.  Cindy and I went to the front of the store, and talked with the clerk.  I was about coming out of my skin, when I confirmed the price was actually $60. She smiled, and nodded.

While I was fidgeting with excitement, Cindy had the presence of mind to ask, "Do you do sales on furniture?"

Once again the clerk smiled. "Okay." She said. "I'll give it to you for $20."

"Twenty dollars?"

"Yes."

The thing about this craft cabinet, it had been there for three weeks before I had ever had my disappointing day. It had been there, delivered, and waiting, all in anticipation of my bad day, of my prayer to God, of my shopping trip with Cindy. God had it ready for me. 

In that moment, that evening, everything negative faded away. My worry. My anxiety. My fretting was gone. If God could put a craft cabinet in a store weeks ahead of time, just for me, then surely He must have big plans for me.

"Stephanie, are you sure this is important to you?" I was asked as we stood trying to determine how the monstrosity was going to make it up three flights of stairs into my apartment.

In the Old Testament, in the Bible, it talks frequently of making altars and reminding yourself of the great things God has done. For me, that craft cabinet became exactly that. A reminder that God had great plans for me. 

Too bad that I am human, and the way God reveals Himself became over shadowed by the every day.

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The Beginning

I would say it began with a craft cabinet, but the truth is it began months before that.

Months and months.

The truth of my "story," my non-Lifetime, non-bookselling story began hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Oh, you're story was written then too, but I'll allow you to tell yours when you are ready.

In March of 2012 life was hopping. My friend Elle and I had determined we were going to make 2012 the best year ever. Whew. That required work. We visited Chicago, celebrated Leap Year, made multiple road trips. We laughed until we ached, and ate until we ached. We ran and walked and talked. We took pictures.

I traveled to Seattle with my Melissa, and made new friends of old. I visited states and people. I saw my Rita and watched my favorite photographer in her prime.

My dad was not well. My brother was not well. Life was busy. In the middle of fun and excitement, there was worry, concern, peace.

The whole time, I longed to go home. 

I had moved to Illinois on May 4, 2003 to work at a church as a children's pastor.  I remember knowing that I would be moving there. I had made a hasty decision in 2002, that had landed me in an odd situation- a learning situation, a difficult situation. I was in the middle of that situation, November 2002, when I heard the words, "Lake Villa, IL." I remember where I was sitting when I was talking with my dad.

"Tell Bob I'll be there."

The moment after I said those words, I remember thinking, "hmm not sure how this will work out," but I just had the knowing that it would. It did.

There it was, nearly 9 years later, and I just wanted to go home.  

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Spot of Fried, and Hat of Hilarity

I always recall, with a smile on my face, the summer I was 27. It was actually my "golden" year. 27th on the 27th.  My birthday in January including favorites: friends and food (or food and friends).

Then the summer rolled around and we had the party barge.  My group of friends made our way to Kenosha's finest beach week after week on Sunday afternoons.  The drive there included roads that wound through cornfields; the radio was turned high with songs to sing to.  We'd arrive at the beach, and the air was hot, and the water, (usually freezing, but a few times) actually perfect! 

We would pile on our barge, and off into Lake Michigan we'd go.  Normally we didn't get too far. It was after all Lake Michigan, and the actual boat boats, were impressive (and I might have been terrified we would be run over--- can you get run over by a boat?) and we were on something a little larger than a blow up raft. 

From that summer on, trips to Kenosha always remind me of a few things, namely friends, music and a yellow blow up raft that surprisingly did quite well in Lake Michigan.

Before leaving my home of ten years, Kenosha was on the list of things to do. Of course I can always visit, but.... I messaged the one person that I knew would really really know. 

"What do you want before you go?"
"Kenosha. The beach. The lighthouses. Music."
"Done."

My ride was a blue pickup. The music was perfect, and we drove on up to Kenosha singing (kinda singing- I had laryngitis) and looking at the perfect fields and the gorgeous sky.

We ate at The Spot, a perfectly Kenosha location, and had "homemade" root beer and orange drink and of course ate fried.

Then there was the beach. It was cold. Bitterly cold, but no worries as we bundled up in warm fuzzy German hats (I was forced to wear the black one) and trounced along the beach taking pictures, finding rocks and remembering.

I am not so far that Kenosha cannot be reached.  Now there are just a few more beaches between here and there.

Michael, you always bring the music.

This next time though, maybe I'll bring my own hat.

Always, Stefonos

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On the Going... And the Coming Back

I have always been a fan of the open road. The high seas. Nothin' but the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, walking the road toward adventure.  Over all the years that I have been living, I have done quite a bit of traveling. I would spend weeks at camp.Weekends on trips out of the state.  Mission Trips and vacations. Here and there.  You would think (at least I would think) that I would become an expert at travel. 
Sadly, that is an incorrect assumption.  But after this week, two checked bags, a large purse and another carry on, a coughing fit, and the inability to make it through the airport with my luggage, I've realized my Vacationing technique is greatly amiss. While this is not comprehensive list, it is a start.

Clean before you go. Nothing greater than coming home to a clean place. No dishes, bed made. It's a great feeling when you arrive home and all you have to do is unpack your bags and throw yourself on your bed to sleep. Remember, you are going on vacation. Coming home to a mess, unvacations a person real quick! I'd like to point out, I was not quite this good this time around.

Take a packing class. Make more room for souvenirs! You can fit a lot in a suitcase, and possibly even more in three.  However, when you are not an efficient packer, it will not matter how many cases you have, it just ain't gonna happen.Don't pack 2 hours before you leave (especially when that means you are packing at 2 am).  Take a double look at what you have in your bag. Are you missing something? Do you need something else? Band aids? Toiletries? Of course you can always pick up those things along the way, but if you are going somewhere out of the country (or even to international waters on a cruise ship), the item you desire may not be available; and if it is, it may be 4xs the cost.

Need transportation? Sometimes it may not matter what the reviews say. If you are needing a ride, and the ride isn't there....well, I don't need to explain the rest.  Know your options!  Are you in a good area with other resources available? Are the drivers qualified to drive? Are the vehicles in good shape and road (and passenger) worthy? What if A falls through? Will B be available? When it's all said and done, go back and provide your review on the transportation provided.  It'll help a fellow traveler!

Have a planner. No, really, a planner. And, by planner, I mean a person with the great ability to organize, highlight, protect, print, document, reserve, call...Plan.  My family has always been a site seeing bunch, but when having folks from multiple locations, it's way easier to have one SPOC. (Special Point of Contact). Why not find someone who loves taking charge and organizing? While you're at it, create a special travel packet for each person.  While I love organizing, there are times when life is simply too busy. There is work, school, cleaning, laundry. Instead of me and my mom having conversations that basically involved, "You call." "No, you call." "No. You!" We'll go a different route the next time. (My mom did a great job!)

Buy a T-shirt. Make a T-shirt. Sure, it's easy to pick up a t-shirt. I have many a sweat-shirt with the name of the city, state, country proudly displayed across the front. It shouts (reads?), "Look at me! I've been to this location!"  While that may be fun, making your own t-shirt, more fun. You can pick your own colors, and proudly display all the fun conversations you had and no one will be the wiser. (Gaslamps anyone?)

Take pictures.  Just know, turnabout is fair play. Take a pic, post a pic, don't be surprised when one of you miraculously appears at a party (or on Facebook)!

Hasta La Vista. Goodbyes. Never been a fan. They sound complete, and final, as though a "hello" would never again be a possibility.  My long line of "ciaos"  started Saturday as we parted way to some great, interesting people at sea. This afternoon I left me Mum, Brother, Papaw and Daddy-o at an airport in Houston. My Ma, grabbed my shoulders and said with all assurance, "It's all gonna be alright. No fretting." Driving away, however, never feels alright. And no one should ever have to do the leaving, or be the left behind. 

Ellen, Melissa and I were escorted across town by our driver to the other airport. We ate at Chilis at the airport, and once again I was forced to part ways. Melissa walked away, down the hallway to her terminal, waving her hand, and yelling. "Don't let her cry Ellen! No tears!! Hasta La Vista! No crying!"


Lastly, Dance. After all, you are on vacation, and what's vacation without a little party?

Catch ya'll on the flip side.

Traveler out,

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But a Breath...

I was shocked. I ran to my car, and did not take much notice of the temperature. It wasn't until after it had warmed up and I was on my way that I realized I could still see my breath.  The cold chill had infiltrated into the interior of my car, and regardless of the high temp heat forcing it's way in, the cold was winning.... soon to be losing, but not as of yet.

A  breath, a deep breath, or shallow one, is still only seconds in length at best. Our lives, are the same. They last for longer than a second, but life is fleeting. We have no guarantee of tomorrow, let alone even the remainder of the day.

This year, I set forth in a huge effort to wrinkle reduce (which basically means not walking around with my cranky face).  I've said it before, and I'll say it again and again and again.  Each day I get up, my circumstances may be less than what I hoped for. I may not feel well, I may wake up late, there could be a weird smell in the apartment hallway (gotta love apartment living), but I am working. Working hard to be better at living a complaint free life.  Working at looking at the positive, making sure I'm "never fully dressed without a smile," dancing when I'm feeling a little blue, memorizing a new song when I need to get away.

I do not want to get to the end of my length of days, and regret a moment, a breath, whether it be a second or an hour.  The plan is to work hard, smile more frequently, get Blanche back to good, make some projects (keep those same projects confined to the Craft Cabinet instead of all over the couch and living room floor).

I want to be a magnificent light.  All of you- those who surround me, those who see me daily, or once a year, those who are my family, my friends, those who know me best, and those who only wish they knew me more- are a part of my little life journey. We walk the road together.  You have seen me (and I'm really sorry) at my worstest worst. I choose though to make tomorrow anew, and to begin again.  (I could say I'll start now, but at home with Blanchey Blanche, I'm fairly relaxed and pleasant.) But tomorrow, tomorrow the test will come.  I want to be like Jesus.  The man who loved, full of compassion. The man who welcomed people in with a smile. I am a long, long, long, (it would get repetitive) way off, but these feet were made for walking, and my heart and mind are  ready for working. 

 Life is but a breath, and quite frankly I'm going to make the most of it.

Make it a good one friends.
Love to all,

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Nonesense

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
~Cyril Connolly

January. We are solidly tucked into the new year. We have seen the slightest touch of snow, more than a touch of ice, but the days are staying lighter longer (minute by minute) and the hope of spring is always around the corner.

My year is actually starting out well. Between the hours of 6 pm and 8 am, I pretend that the hours between 8 am and 6 pm don't exist.  In the aforementioned hours, I become a crafter, writer, reader, traveler, self-employed philanthropist, organizer and overall happy. And, since we're in those hours right now, I am choosing to not mention the latter.

This year I decided that I would tackle a few items right from the beginning. I've talked about it before, but I really don't believe in just waiting for the New Year to arrive to begin to apply resolutions.  However, I spent the last 10 days of 2012 in Indiana, and determined that as soon as I arrived back in Illinois, I would roll up my sleeves and dig in.

These are only a few:

1) Wake up at 6 am weekdays.  15 days in, and I have been fairly successful. I am unashamed to say that I called in additional resources to assist me in my endeavors. Yes, I Googled. Then I found a service that has cartoon characters call you at your designated time. (Um, it's not as creepy as it sounds.) Let me tell you, it's working.  The morning hourish before I leave for work hasn't been as productive every day as I would like, but I'm enjoying it. 21 days to make a habit? Almost there.

2) Posting a blog post once a week? Check.

3) Clean out my fridge/freezer and compile a list of what I have? Check and Check.

While I'm feeling a little mellow right now, I have to admit that I'm actually feeling pretty low key and happy. 

I do not know what is going to happen over the next year, but I do  know this beyond anything else, God's gotta good plan for me. I know because I read about it. 

Let's rock 2013 friends!
Love to all,

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The world is a terrible place. Sometimes…. Sometimes I think it would be better to take shelter and be away. Hide, hide away. 

But, then I hear a song.  And, I see a deer right in front of me, and the trees change from green to red and yellow, and then I remember.  There is much to see here. There is much to do here. There is much to love here.  And, the terribleness because overshadowed by the Son.

Hiding away just won't do,

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A.I.M. High 2013

Ahh the new year. I can already feel the anticipation as I type this.  Apparently I'm overwhelmed by the anticipation because, I am already sitting in bed, lights out, and typing this quickly, and in moments will be flipping my laptop closed.

Every "New Year's Eve" is different for me. I have yet to establish a pattern, although it generally does involve me staying up until at least midnight, but what is life without change!! Sitting in the final moments of 2012 (I'm CST- So technically I have an hour and 8 mins) and reviewing the year I actually can understand why I am ready for sleep so "early." 2012 was tumultuous.  (Before I claim that word as my own, that was the word my mom actually used.) She then followed it up and said at the same time, we were greatly blessed.  It is true. This year of stress, and struggle, and weariness.... God also poured out his blessings.

In the last year I think I grew in ways I never thought possible. I've learned more about myself than ever before.  I accomplished goals I had wanted to for quite a while.  I went on trips, (learned that I'm not as good at driving long distances alone anymore- How on earth did I do drive so far while in college? With no cell phones!?) I made new friends, and old acquaintances became like family.  I found that the more I love, the more I have to give.

I bought a guitar, (Lessons to come), found a craft cabinet, figured out the sewing thing (Thank you Mrs. Gleim), learned that I love making things, sending emails, finding recipes, watching movies, laughing til I literally can't stand anymore, watching  Duck Dynasty, taking pictures, and that while I am totally a Hunter, I'm a Davis too.

This year I mastered mashed potatoes, worked on my pancakes, and dumplin's, and found that no matter the project, I tend to have the remains somewhere attached. (Tonight that means primer on my palms, but there's been syrup on my pants and hot glue on my arm.)

There were challenges.  My Daddio- (Kilo as we have tried to name him) gave us some scares as he took up vacationing in the "vacation home" in the local hospital... several times throughout the year.  Friends and families of friends have been sick. There have been tests, and hearing aids (okay, just one), accidents and sorrows that are too old to be soothed by band-aids.  Massive tragedies have wreaked havoc on our country and on our world, and we will never be the same.


My highest most important challenge for myself in 2013 is to remember to rely on God.  He was there through all of it.  Every bit.  Stephanie if He was there, WHERE was He?  Why didn't He do something?  We can ask.  We can type out and hash out and explain our theories, and our understandings, and it will never ever ever make sense. What I can tell you is that in the hardest moments, when things were most confusing,  when I would cry out to God with literally just a word, or a plea for help, He would answer with a blanket of peace. Imagine yourself comforted and warmed in such a way that your soul felt at peace.  Explain it? I cannot.  Accept it? I will.

I am messy. I do not do it "right." I am not always the best example. But, I will apologize and mean it when I am cross (or, when I wave my hand to shoo some of my employees away) or when I give you my cranky angry face. That is the beauty of the God I know.  He takes me just as I am. He doesn't give up on me. He loves me at my worst and ugliest.  He feels the same about you.

2013 is looming ahead.  I am excited. I am declaring that it will be a Year of Change. A Year of Growth. A Year to Be Proud Of.  It's gonna rock.

And you can take that to the bank, Jack.

See you in 2013.
Love to you all,

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Letting Yourself Go, and the Peace that Comes With

Um. That should read letting  IT go.

It was almost a year ago (in three days it'll be a year) that everything became different for me.  That day there was no big event. It was actually just a Monday, the Monday after Thanksgiving.  Life had turned radically different that year, and nevermind the reason, the reality that life was going to be different and not what I wanted circled around me, choking me, almost drowning me. 

The thing about holding on is that it causes more pain than the surrender.  Holding on to hurts, and pains, only causes inward damage.  Letting go of it, allows God to come in and replace the it with something more beautiful. The other thing is that God does not force anyone to surrender.  A true friend, someone who totally loves you, waits for you to take the first step.  The rest is easy.

On November 28, 2011, I let go.  It's been all uphill (or downhill? whatever is better) since.  
The thing with surrender, is the moment you do, you find the peace that come with. 

I can attest to  the fact that in that almost whole year from that day to now, I have never been the same, and only getting better from here!


*The Shepherd and the Treasure
The shepherd was known to everyone in the town. The animals loved him, but so did the people. He was quiet and kind. He did not speak harshly. Even when someone was wrong, he would make it right. He would wrap his arms around him or her, and in his quiet, gentle way calm the storm.
 
A little girl lived in the town. Quiet and peaceful. 
 
The little girl was stubborn. And, she was smart, but always underlying the "smart" was the stubborn. The fierceness and fieriness that comes when you are determined to do whatever it is you want to do. "I do it myself," she would say, and she would snatch her hand away, from the larger one offering assistance. 
 
As she was playing outside one day, she came across a treasure. Never-mind the type of treasure, what it was, just know that it was a treasure. It was small, and it fit in the palm of her hand. It was sparkly and the most beautiful color. She knew immediately upon picking it up that she would never let it go. It would be with her always. 
 
The shepherd saw her with the treasure, and he knew what she did not. He came beside her, and offered her a different treasure in place of the one she gripped so tightly. She would smile up at his kind face and say, No thank you shepherd. I have my own. He would smile, and pat her on the head and walk on. 
 
What the shepherd knew, is what the little girl did not notice. That the treasure slowed her down. She still would play and sing and dance, but she moved slower, sang softer, danced less frequently. It was difficult, holding her treasure in her hand, and trying to move throughout the day. However, it was hers, and she could not put it down. Occasionally, as she was playing, she would feel a slight pain shooting through her hand and up her arm. She would examine the treasure, and sigh. Her treasure, though beautiful, had a sharp, cutting edge. Often as her treasure cut into her hand she would think about putting her treasure away, setting it aside, but she would shake her head no, and grip it more tightly. A treasure, after all, was worth the pain. 
 
The shepherd would come by frequently, more and more often. Always with the same question, and she offered the same response.
 
The day came, however, when the pain in her hand could not be tolerated any longer. There was no playing. No singing. No dancing. Only silence. The little girl would sit with her arms crossed, gripping the treasure tightly. Her hand had begun to bleed. It was slow at first, but the sharp edge cut, and day after day it cut into the same wound that was trying to heal from her grip the day before. She loved her treasure. It was inexplicable the way she felt. The thought of setting her treasure down caused her more pain than the pain in her hand. Her mom and dad were wise. They would encourage her to put it down. She would shake her head, no. Her friends were kind, we'll take it from you, we will help you. She would walk away. 
 
The shepherd would come by, and ask. Crying even still, she would look at him and say, "No shepherd. I love my treasure." 
 
One morning, the little girl awoke. The day was no different than the day before. The sky was a gray, the pale gray that comes in the fall. Inside, however, the girl knew it was time. She needed to be free. She stood up. Put on her best dress and her shiny shoes, and walked outside and down a long path and to the river. She knew who she would find there, waiting for her, and she was right. The shepherd stood by the river, his eyes soft, his lips smiling. 
 
She opened her hand, and with her other she grasped the treasure. She held it to the light, and examined it one last time. It was still beautiful, but instead of admiring the shine, she saw the edge. The sharp, and cutting edge. It was time. She walked to the shepherd, and stood beside him. He stretched out his hand, asking for her treasure, and she handed it to him. With her at his side, they walked to the edge and let the treasure fall into the water. The water swallowed her treasure whole, and swept it away.
The little girl sat right where she had stood, and cried sobbing tears. All the pain and frustration running down her face, and pouring out of heart. The shepherd sat down beside her, patting her head. Saying nothing, but waiting. 
 
She opened her hand, and they stared at her wound. The deep, long cut that the treasure had made. He traced the wound with his finger. He then reached in to his satchel, and pulled out a different treasure. He held it to her, and this time she took it. It was magnificent, of the deepest, purest color. The light shined off it's surface. She smiled, and could hardly speak. This treasure was exquisite. Far outweighing the beauty of her old treasure. And it was smooth. No violent edges, nothing that would cause pain. "Oh it's beautiful," she whispered, and she tried to hand it back to him.
The shepherd smiled at her softly, and said, "Didn't you know? I've had this the whole time, just for you."
The little girl cried again. Not out of pain, but joy and peace.
Then, she started to dance.

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