The Fight

I'm the curator for the Prescott Fire Department.  Not because they have a museum; I'm curator because four years ago they lost 19 firefighters...and the world expressed their mourning by sending over 10,000 letters, gifts and mementos.

Four years ago, two kindhearted and concerned ladies saw a need and organized taking down over 5000 items that had been tied to the fences around the fire station where the men worked.  They put out a call for volunteers, I came willing to do anything and found my skills as a museum registrar were valuable.  Why I came?  I wrote this note five days after I started helping:

It's different when you are widowed with a baby...

In 1996, I was widowed with a 3 month old baby.

My husband died of cancer, and several hundred attended his funeral.  Perhaps a thousand.  I don't know, I wasn't counting.

My love was gone.

In those days and months that followed, I rebuilt a new life.  Widowhood is different:  your future is erased.  All you planned is gone.  With a breastfed three-month old, I had to get on.  I had to focus on the baby.  Eventually, my heart was opened to new love.  I remarried two years after my husband died.  He adopted my daughter; we had two more children.

Seventeen, now nearly eighteen, years have passed.

My daughter always knew she "had a daddy in heaven."  She saw his photo, and had a foot locker full of his things.  At seven, she literally went through a period of mourning for him.  Lately, she's more interested in the "dating memorabilia" box I kept.

I have worked in a museum in the past as a registrar - one who catalogs items.  Since moving to Prescott, I have volunteered at Sharlot Hall Museum with the collection of artifacts, still cataloging.  I am honored to be the volunteer curator for the Tribute Fence Preservation Project.

First, it's about the children.

My baby still doesn't *know* her daddy-he died when she was 3 months old.  Her foot locker holds clues to that missing chapter in her life...and preserving the Tribute Fence is first and foremost for the children the Hotshots left behind.  This was THEIR daddy.  People hurt for them.  People cared for them.  Preserving the Tribute Fence is the least we can do for these little ones who are not yet old enough to understand.  They, and ALL the family members of the 19 are why we are working so hard.

Second, its about the Fire Department.  These guys work their butts off, every day of the year.  If we can help in this one area - we are more than happy to.  These guys have been terrific - and we are privileged to help them out.

Third, it's about the community of Prescott, Arizona.  I cannot imagine this wall springing up anywhere else in America.  Truly, this represents the heart of the people who live here.

Preserving the items left at the wall is more than just saving them in a box somewhere.  It's about taking time to make certain they are reverently preserved, cataloged and set aside for whatever the future may hold.  What it brings, we don't know at the Project.  We just know that we want to be ready for it.

My baby never knew her dad.  It is my hope that the babies and children left behind will know how much their dad was loved and appreciated through the Tribute Fence Preservation Project.

Originally written September 16, 2013

From organized chaos....

...to temporary storage.

The city is preparing to sell the building the items have been temporarily stored in, and with a feature film coming out, followed a few months later by the five year anniversary, my role as curator has churned up to the surface of my life once again.  It is strange, working again with items I know so well, and have so many emotions concerning.  Over the past four years, I have dealt with situations so fantastical due to my involvement one could not write better fiction; right now is another such time.  There are so many things I ponder, knowing I couldn't do it any other way, and wishing it didn't hurt me so much.  Being kind is tough-perhaps that's why so few do it.  It's too easy to be misconstrued as self-serving, when there's nothing farther from the truth.  I do things with kindness as it's the right thing to do...and for no other reason than that.

It's been hard, very hard, to keep that standard as of late.

Yesterday I had one of the worse eye ulcers I've ever had; it come on fast and furious.  Rarely has the pain been so bad, nor for so long.  As I searched for distractions I thought to blog about my stressors, knowing my eye ulcers are an autoimmune response to stress.  

Or as a result of the adrenaline dump from this brush with death...only the Buckeye's offensive driving saved us from a branch penetrating the windshield.  We were both fine save for a showering of fine glass, the jeep is fixable and he has great insurance.  You can clearly see how shook I was due to my crazed choice of apparel immediately thereafter.

So I make the list....and it's long.  Very long.  I make the list of what's right and it's short.

What's right:

1. God is good.
2. Everyone is healthy (eye ulcers are temporary, asthma is just a hiccup.  OK fine, everyone else is healthy except me.)
3. I have an amazing boyfriend in the Buckeye, and my children are wonderful.
4. Ride is operating in the black.

And, that's it.  One week from today is my last at my beloved cottage, and the house still has not sold and we've no money to pay the mortgage.  I've had over a dozen amazing interviews with promises to start and then nothing.  I'm doing everything I know to do, and have a peace that I'm going to be ok...when the list of things that aren't ok is long and staggering.

Overwhelming when I looked at it.

And as I started to sink when I saw the waves, I cried out to my Savior; the peace immediately returned as I focused on Him.

And doing what is right.

Even if it means others can't see it.

Even if it means only I know.

Eagle's Hall, Prescott.

Four years ago, over 700 flags were pulled off the fence around Station 7 sopping wet.  The local Eagles donated space to dry them.  I did not let a single flag touch the ground.

A few people knew, and a few people questioned it.  Wouldn't it be easier to just lay them on the floor?

Respect for those who fought for that flag prohibited that option in my mind, and we made it work.

Right now, I just want to do what it right.  As tears fall, and I ponder just what that is...I reread the note I wrote four years ago.

"Preserving the items left at the wall is more than just saving them in a box somewhere.  It's about taking time to make certain they are reverently preserved, cataloged and set aside for whatever the future may hold.  What it brings, we don't know at the Project.  We just know that we want to be ready for it."

One year later, the items made up part of the "A Fire Department Remembers" exhibit.

I don't know what my future brings.  I'm learning to adapt quickly to these rapid changes, and keep my eyes focused on the peace God has poured over me.  I know I need to keep "doing what I know to do" -even though many of those things no one will see but me.  It doesn't matter if no one knows but me-when it's the right thing to do.

I told the Buckeye I wanted to go on a picnic with him for my birthday...and days later won a picnic basket for two.

In the midst of the pain I was in yesterday, and the thousand tears that have recently fallen, I won this picnic basket.  Some would call it coincidence, I call it God.  It was a sweet, sweet reminder that He does hear me, and knows the desires of my heart.  As I purpose to do what I know is right....I cling to the peace that passes all understanding.  It's going to be ok, and despite the storms I can enjoy right now.

Ice cream with raspberries, hot fudge, whipped topping and M&M's certainly made it sweeter:)

Now I just have to do what I know is right.  May God give me the strength to do it.

The Gift of Patience

Yesterday we did the local arcade with the kids.

The Buckeye and Manchild, about to go head to head.

The Buckeye mentors a 12 year old boy who is in foster care, who I've come to adore.  He's got spikey hair and the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen, and someday those eyes will break hearts.

They already break mine.

It's hard to give him a nickname; he's young enough that he doesn't have any defining adjectives other than those associated with his status as a foster child.  "Lost Boy" comes to mind, and yet that's not fitting:  he (and we) have hope for his future.  He loves being outdoors which is why he was matched with the Buckeye, the majority of their time together has been outside.  It's too hot in Phoenix right now to indulge in that, hence our afternoon in the arcade.  Given the sheer number of adventures he's shared with the Buckeye since they met, I'm going to call him The Adventurer; it fits him to a T.

Back when I first met the Buckeye in January, he made it clear that his devotion to Special Olympics took high priority in his life.  He invited me to attend the basketball games he coached, and I delighted in attending them; I even blogged about it.  That team went on to win the bronze medal in the statewide Special Olympics basketball tournament; the prior two years they had won gold.

Love, love, love this photo of my man and his team:)

The Buckeye's volunteer coaching for Special Olympics extends beyond basketball to football, track and golf.  He and his golf partner have been partners for five years, and I'm very excited that I may get to start volunteering as a golf partner.

My golfing experience:)  Apparently the only requirements are patience and showing up?!?

Patience.

And showing up.

The Buckeye doesn't have children of his own; yet I was surprised by the patience he exhibited with the Princess the first time they met.  We were (unsurprisingly) at Topgolf, and she was tired of not connecting with the ball.  When it was her turn, she began swatting at the balls like a cat batting at a mouse, it was hysterically funny in my book.  As she broke down, I worried for a second about how the Buckeye would react; many men I knew who where childless might have thought it to be disrespectful.  He did not; his laughter matched mine and he good-naturedly engaged her.  The volume of patience he displayed with my tired, done-with-it-teen I marveled at; it would not be the first time this gift emerged.  As I came to know him better, I learned he honed this in his twenty years of working with Special Olympics. Many times things are simply done at a slower pace, he explained, and you could either be "frustrated or patient."  As I've looked over his many memories captured on film, and see the smiles on so many faces, I marvel at the gift of patience.  What joy a simple gift could bring!

Here in Arizona, the foster care system is a mess; frequently horror stories are in the news.  When I met the Buckeye he was enjoying life as a dedicated bachelor, and part of that bachelorhood was expanding his time volunteering.  Initially he hoped to be a foster parent, but a real-life examination of his schedule made him realize that wasn't in a child's best interest. He was directed to the AASK program, Aid to Adoption for Special Kids.

AASK Website Link :)

Before I met him, the Buckeye had mentored a young man who had been in a ghastly, horrible home life before his placement in foster care.  The mentorship seemed to be going well; they had got along and had shared several good times when the young man abruptly called it off.  While we can only speculate the reasons the young man ended it, it would be awhile before the Buckeye felt comfortable being matched again.  When you mentor, your heart cannot help but becoming entangled.

Why are we both grinning like crazy?  Because our photographer was The Adventurer, and it's impossible not to love that kid.

They were matched in March, the Buckeye and the Adventurer, and quickly our conversations turned to tales of their daring-do.  The Adventurer is 12, and the Buckeye, while 49, loves acting like he's 12.  Hiking, jeeping, Final Four Fan Fest, arcades, you name it-they've done it.  I knew he was serious about our relationship when he asked my children and I to join him and the Adventurer at Castles N Coasters; that day while I was at the beginning stages of falling for the Buckeye I unreservedly gave my heart to the Adventurer.  His mother died three years ago; he was removed from his father's care last year and lives with a step-relative.  It's impossible not to feel motherly towards a motherless child, but to love one?  That depends on the child, and the Adventurer made it easy.  He's a good kid, pretty normal in every way; with me he talked about his mom quite a bit.  I encouraged it; given his manners and good nature it was obvious she had been an attentive mother.  He told me about meals she made; I'd ask specifically what he remembered about how she made them.  When he asked why I wanted to know I suggested we might make them together, so he could learn and then always have something his mom did as something he could share.  He liked that, and we became bosom pals.  Often I find myself rubbing my hand over his spikey hair; he laughs when I tell him it's just what mom's do. As my children and I joined the Buckeye and the Adventurer on further adventures, he grew more comfortable with all of us.  More than once I corrected his behavior, more than once he ignored it.  I insisted he obey, and he'd comply.  The Buckeye was learning parenting 101, and I assured him the misbehaving was a good thing-that the Adventurer was testing his limits with us.  Kids with boundaries feel safe, and we were giving him that.

Manchild and his sister the Princess, actually enjoying time together.

Yesterday our boy was tired; it's summer and his relative has been letting him stay up as late as he wants.  Being 12, staying up 'til dawn and sleeping all day is pretty cool; except when your mentor picks you up at 11am.  Usually he's super talkative, yesterday he was like a zombie.  It was frustrating for the Buckeye and I, being at the arcade was a special treat and he wasn't enjoying it because he'd been up all night...because no one cared if he went to bed.  As we took turns following him around (he wasn't even in the mood to compete in racing or shooting games!) rarely could we coax a smile, he was simply exhausted.  Again I saw the gift of patience emerge; I admired the Buckeye's ability that it came so naturally.  As a parent I don't often afford my own children that gift; it was humbling to see it in a nonparent (although one could argue that he's had the advantage of huge breaks of time inbetween times that call for patience!!) and towards a child that was old enough to have known better.

"Old enough to have known better."  Really?  His mom died when he was 9.  The past three years he's had no stability, and very little love...and yet my expectation was automatically that of a normal almost-13 year old. In a way, that's oddly good--I see in him the same potential and have the same expectations of him as I do my own children.  But he's not mine, nor is he the Buckeye's.  He's a ward of the State of Arizona, and we are hopeful that soon his older sibling will be successful in their bid to adopt the Adventurer and his younger sister.  In the meantime, we're making the most of the time we have with him; days like yesterday make it hard when you only wish to give him the best, to be thwarted by the inattention of others.  The gift of patience was not just to the Adventurer, but to himself; the Buckeye was being patient that next time will be better.

The Buckeye and his new found passion:  the banjo.

A few weeks ago, the Buckeye had his first banjo lesson.  He's attacked the instrument with glee; so excited to be learning how to make music.  Yesterday wetried deciphering his first song in his music book, "This Little Light of Mine."  We were slightly confounded with its 4/4 time and odd melody; as I read the notes I wondered if they were in alto and sang a few.  We giggled at our combined "joyful noise" and stuck with it a bit longer.  He jokes he'll give it up when the instructor tells him he's a lost cause, and I laugh as he's practicing an hour a day and his teacher assures him he's two weeks ahead of most students.  It all boils down to the hour of practice he puts in nightly; most would hate the practice but he loves it.  Why?

He has patience with himself.

Over and over I see in him how great this gift is, this gift of patience.  Patience to see through mistakes and practice until he got the results he hoped for.  Patience with a tired boy who stayed up too late because no one cared if he got enough sleep.  Patience with athletes to give it their best, and still make sure they all had fun regardless of the outcome.  Patience, too, with his faithful companion Mack, his now-senior dog who is needing extra care.  Patience with his mother, who he calls weekly.  Patience with my Princess, who's not too certain what to think of the new man in her mom's life.

One of my favorite scripture has always been James 1:4, which reads "But let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be [people] perfectly and fully developed [with no defects], lacking in nothing."  I always took this to mean "to be patient," never interpreting it as patience being a gift.  Looking at the Buckeye's example, I see for the first time that perhaps this scripture isn't just about tempering ourselves.  

Perhaps it's more about giving that as a gift to others.

Dictionaries have the wonderful ability of clarifying meaning...

Right now I have a decision I need to make, and I'm being very mindful to not rush into it.  My rushing habit was indicative of an extreme lack of patience, in addition to a fear of loss.  Now as I weigh options, I look differently at things.  Can I, too, give the gift of patience to others in this?

It's certainly in me to make the effort.  

Thankfully, I have a great teacher.

Another Dang Buckeye

The message seemed sincere.

"I noted you liked football in your profile; my dad just gave me Fiesta Bowl tickets.  Would you like to go with me?"

I was new to online dating, and admit "Al" wasn't necessarily my type.  Not that I knew my type back then, but I was pretty certain he wasn't it....for one thing, I adored college football.  He did not.

"I'm not a sports fan, but it seems wasteful not to use them.  I could meet you there?"

After careful consideration and a round of vetting that included an online background check, I agreed to meet him in the parking lot of Cardinal's Stadium.  He paid for my separate parking, and took me to brunch at the Renaissance hotel before the early noon game.  Albert (as he preferred to be called) was a little awkward, but nice enough; he had no interest in football at all and thus had worn a short-sleeves button down shirt.  Me? I was in Maize & Blue.

Like hell I was rooting for either team, both sworn enemies of my beloved Wolverines....

So on January 1st 2016, I was at the Fiesta Bowl. My team wasn't there.

Also in attendance?

This guy, aka the Buckeye.  His team was there. I'm in his picture--see that blue speck next to a white speck under the big screen?  That's me!!

My date with Albert?  He was a nice guy.  He took several selfies of us to send to his dad "proving he used the tickets."

My selfie:) Can't tell half my head is shaved, can you?

In retrospect, I should have worn a louder and prouder Michigan shirt.  This one isn't team official, and I think many Buckeyes in attendance thought it repped for the Irish.  I did meet two other girls in Maize & Blue; we squeaked and hugged like long lost sisters.  I had cotton candy, and overall, a great first BCS bowl attendance.

Except the Buckeyes won.  And Albert lost.

While we both said how nice it was and we'd love to see each other again, neither one of us texted each other again.  I had been mere company in him making his dad happy, and since I had enjoyed a pretty expensive date, I wasn't complaining.  It was a great start to 2016....and a week later while online I swiped right on this picture:

I chuckle now, realizing how long ago this was taken...

When I dropped him a message, to what did I refer?  His Fiesta Bowl picture in his profile, and my attendance at the same.  We chatted, and I recall a phone conversation.

He does not.

The result of said conversation?  I lived too far away to interest him.  As we each faded from each other's thoughts, there was no hurt, only disinterest.  So why then, did he make it through countless rounds of me deleting guys I'd met online but never met in person?

Because he was "another dang Buckeye."

Being born in Michigan, I have a natural inclination towards hating the entire state of Ohio, irrational though it may seem.  It started righteously enough, as trips to the Buckeye State meant long car rides for grocery shopping.  Worse yet, trips to Florida to see grandparents always began and ended with five hours of fields of dead tan broken cornstalks...and we girls hated that drive.  So naturally, it was the entire state we hated.  I knew it was a common feeling, as I'd see occasional shirts and bumper stickers with the same sentiment.

I was 12 the first time I noticed a bumper sticker with this saying, and recalled thinking how progressive that family was.

I wasn't a football fan as a child.  Nope, that wouldn't come until I met the Knight, and he introduced me to college football in the most magnificent way:  The Big House.  It was easy to become a Michigan fan under his tutelage; after his death I decided to maintain the tradition so that the Commander could have that in common with her biological father.

It quickly became a family tradition, with the exception of the King.  He didn't care for football.

So "another dang buckeye?"

He was second, to Flyboy.  Flyboy who quickly had become a dear friend after we met, knowing that was all there was ever to be between us, just friendship.  Part of that friendship was our rivalry, one neither of us had truly indulged in after moving away from our home states.

He'd send this.

I'd send back this.

Which is nothing compared to football season....

So crass...

So classy:)

Don't even get me started about nose picking...

My coach would never...😂😎

So Flyboy is the original Buckeye, and very much my BFF.

He wouldn't pose as I had on a Wolverine tee, but he did get me to jump out of a plane.

It's great to be a Michigan Wolverine!

Flyboy and I agree that our friendship is sweeter due to the rivalry, and last fall football was more fun than it had been in years due to the smack we'd talk.  So the reason my Buckeye made it through numerous deletions on my phone?

I wanted to be able to poke the bear😎

You see, Buckeyes in general sooooo hate the Wolverines they're just plain nasty about it.  They are mean, crass and just tasteless fans who are just awful people in general.

Yes, I know I'm in love with one, and another is my BFF.  Hush.

I kept "another dang buckeye" around just in case we won in November...that fabled last Saturday of the month when the two teams meet.  If we won, I would have to jab it in his side.

'Cause we wolverines are good at doing that:). Why else would I attend a Fiesta Bowl Ohio State was playing in in Michigan gear if not to simply upset a few (or a dozen or more) Buckeyes??

Like I said, it's great to be a Michigan Wolverine:)

Soooooo....this November?

Yeah.

Well.

Cheating was involved, there's an asterisk and refs were fired. Anywise...!!!

So I had this bet with Flyboy.  We knew the winner of said contest would likely end up in Phoenix at the Fiesta Bowl.  We decided to go together, and the loser had to wear the winning teams' shirt.

December 31st 2016, at another Fiesta Bowl.  See?! It's a shirt about nuts....under my Michigan jacket!!!  That's Flyboy looking sooooo seriously away from the camera.  Something about my jacket. 

Since I lost the bet and had to attend a game I had no real interest in for the second time in the same year, I decided to spice it up.

I wonder if another dang buckeye was still single?

So I sent him a text.  "Hey Buckeye...."

That same Buckeye just spoiled me with his mother's coffee cake this morning...

He jokes that someday we'll need the "House Divided" paraphernalia; in the meantime I'm surrounded by way too much National Championship stuff.

As I write this...this is literally across from me.  Sigh!

People ask how we met...and we both forget we technically met online.  We met because of the great rivalry between Michigan and Ohio State, and because this Wolverine wanted to tease a Buckeye.  We fell in love because of our shared faith, Midwestern roots and strong love of America.

Few people know that the Knight, the Wolverine who brought me into the fold, graduated from the Ohio State University, and was born and raised in Ohio.  I find it funny I would end up with a true Buckeye, when I can honestly say the first love of my life was technically one as well.

2016 began and ended with Fiesta Bowls and the Ohio State Buckeyes.  Hoping my love life begins and ends with Buckeyes as well.

*to those who have just read my guide to online dating, I included The Buckeye to my late December "Crop" I had harvested off Bumble:) I started the New Year with five in the crop, and vowed I'd not Bumble until that crop was done with....well, the Buckeye is still standing!

Anchors

"Your heart is pounding," he said, holding me as I debated my condition.  "Can you get my backpack?  My rescue inhaler is in it," I replied, noting how swiftly he sprang into action.

 

I had had an asthma attack, and had tried to use my old standby of water as a source of relief.  It wasn't working, and my coughing grew worse.  Fishing through my pack I quickly found my inhaler; my hand was quivering as I shook the device and then took two puffs.  Instantly I felt my airways release, and my coughing stopped.  The Buckeye gathered me into his arms, and noted my heart rate had already calmed down.  Relief mixed with mirth filled me; I'm still so newly in love that his concern for my health brought me more joy than the scare of a serious attack had brought.

 

Yep, that reads 120°

It's too hot to exercise, and when I think I've found an exception, my lungs still protest.  Walking earlier that day in the 110° heat that day I recalled how I felt the day of the bad hike, like someone was sitting on my chest.  The dust, the heat...not the best combination.  Still, history had been made in that spot, and I was too excited not to push on.

This history girl somehow never knew a Civil War battle was fought here in Arizona!!!!  And the Confederates won!!

So while we loped through history all that weekend, visiting battle sites, mines, courthouses and cemeteries, I thought just staying hydrated and walking would be enough.

Boothill Cemetery, Tombstone, AZ

"Why Kate, I do believe you forgot to wear your bustle.  How lewd."

The Buckeye in Maize & Blue, about to tour the mine.

Turns out the heat, with the excessive amount of dust we always have in Arizona, was enough of a trigger.  The asthma attacks I had that weekend were fierce, unexpected and scary.

This summer I've taken a break from outdoor exercise, which means I'm not exercising at all.  To have attacks happen with very little provocation is startling, and makes me wonder what I should be doing.

Besides sitting moony-eyed at my love.

Please note my Maize & Blue outfit to combat his overt buckeyeness:)

Independence Day weekend was spent up in Prescott with the Princess and Manchild, watching the parade and attending rodeo.

We sat in the middle of Gurley Street; it was only in the upper 80's.

Gold Buckle Box seats!!!

Jeans and boots....

Despite the elevation, I had no issues breathing.  The dust was less and the temperatures not so formidable.  As I debate the next month of activity, I am keenly aware of the weight I've added from a mere six weeks off.  I've never been a big eater, so I'm debating just what a healthy diet is.  If exercise needs to be limited outside due to asthma, then I need to take better control of what I'm eating.  As for indoor exercise?

It's not going to happen.

Why lie and say it is?  I hate gyms with a passion, and have no extra cash to join one even if I wanted.  I'm not going to walk at the mall.  I'm not going to do Pilates in my living room, and going to a studio is not financially possible at this minute.  I'm stuck in many ways right now...just the asthma not being under control is a symptom of health insurance with a $5000 per person deductible-meaning I'd have to pay cash, that I don't have, for any additional treatment.

This isn't a complaint, nor an excuse.  It just is.  We all make choices based on facts, and these are the facts in my life:  I have no money to seek medical help with the asthma, and no money to seek indoor exercise.

So that means one thing:  I need more money, and that means I must turn my attention to Ride.

You'll note the shirt is waaaaaaay too tight😂

I'm doing in business what I know to do-and good things are happening, even though change is frustratingly slow. Add in days like yesterday, when it seems the weight of an unsold home is too much; a full year and a half after the divorce that precipitated it's sale.  My patience has grown thin, and there's no safety net this month.  This is it, and I admit that yesterday I gave in to fear.  Fear of the house not selling, and foreclosure.  Fear of Ride failing.  Fear of not knowing where I will live in August.  Fear of losing the Buckeye, even though there's no basis for that.  Fear of  not having enough to make it, as plain and simple, that's where I stand.

I ache for a hike...a heart pounding, muscle aching hike.  I want to sit on my peak and reflect, not grow curvier.  There are times I long for the physical outlet...the reminder that my body is currently unable reminds me I have to do more, and I buckle down again.

This is a fake $100 bill.  One of my drivers was handed it and the customer asked for $80 in change.  In the daylight it was more obvious-but even I was fooled at first, never thinking it was fake.

Outside my window is nothing but jackhammers and backhoes, as the cement pool is removed from the property were I live.  Lately I long for the normalacy of home; my weekend in Prescott triggered that.  To have my own dishes and sheets, my own art on the walls.  Whilst I love my little cottage, it's time.

I need what is mine.

Top of Granite.

Inner Canyon.

Top of some random Phoenix mountain😜

Everything seems more stressful because I haven't been hiking.  It's gonna be 115° today so it's out of the question.

My office, before the house was staged for showings.  I miss it desperately-for 14 years this was my refuge.

My things, they are all packed away.

My children.

I ache for a home to give them, and feel as if I have failed in that most basic need.

But what I have?  Right now?

A beautiful and safe place to live for July.

A growing company.  This is Miss Betty getting a bath last night.

The love of a man who is my anchor in these choppy seas. (Despite his terrible taste in football teams.)

And Jesus, the lover of my soul.

As I find increasingly that it is my faith alone that is sustaining me as I walk on water to do what I know I am to do, these words move me to tears.  

My anchor holds within the veil.

The veil is a reference to the Holy of Holies in Tabernacle, where God dwelt among His people.  The veil thus represents the very presence of God, and I through Christ's sacrifice, am anchored in it.

I am humbled as I reflect I just referred to the Buckeye as an anchor as well...he who sent me scripture yesterday to uplift me right when I needed it.  He who sent me sweet texts throughout the day-that always popped up when I was at my lowest.  For God to give me such a man, who seeks after His own heart, how great and good is our God!  The Buckeye's gentle reminders of our shared faith have made these days more joy than stress, more peace than frought with worry.  Indeed, it is when I haven't seen him for a few days I find the worries begin to overwhelm me....

So while my books, a good hike, and a home aren't mine this month as I continually wait on the sale of our home at a critical, critical juncture....I have a business that is on the upswing.  I have a man who loves me and blesses me reminders of our faith.  I have a loving God whose Word has never failed me-ever.

The Apostle Paul writes in Philippians 4:11-13 (amp)

"Not that I speak from any personal need, for I have learned to be content and self-sufficient through Christ, satisfied to the point where I am not disturbed or uneasy, regardless of my circumstances. I know how to get along and live humbly in difficult times, and I also know how to enjoy abundance and live in prosperity. In any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of facing life, whether well-fed or going hungry, whether having an abundance or being in need. I can do all things which He has called me to do through Him who strengthens and empowers me to fulfill His purpose—I am self-sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency; I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him who infuses me with inner strength and confident peace."

The only thing I can control right now?

Some things in Ride.

and Me.

While I had to turn down some help with Ride yesterday, I also had amazing amounts of work accomplished and it truly is headed in the right direction.  As for me?  I know that while I made some tough decisions, they were the right ones.  As the day went on, I began to recognize it was fear I had given into-and it was fear that had driven my tears.  Over and over yesterday I saw many moments of hope and joy--this is but a temporary season in my life.  While I'm missing my children and a "normal" life, I have the very best "unnormal" life ever.  I had to chose to stop thinking about the "what if's" of fear and count the joy.

James 1:4 has always been a favorite.  Today, it's 1:2-7!

I'm counting it all Joy.  In this, the much needed sale of the house, I'm waiting to see the ram caught in the thicket.  For surely God will provide what I cannot see with human eyes...and I'm determined to have joy in this journey.

After rodeo and our Gold Buckle Box seats with Manchild and the Buckeye.

Did I mention how the Buckeye and I won four Box seats and combined prize packages totaling $3500 in fun stuff to adventure to?  The favor of the Lord, no doubt!  Yesterday was tough, it happens.  We all have tough days, I'm finding mine only come when I take my eyes off of the promises of God and look at the waves around me.

Thanking God I have not one, but two anchors I know will hold, for His plan and for all of the blessings I have.  For surely, His Joy is my strength when I chose to look to Him, instead of the waves.  Right now, I'm called to "do what I know to do."  

Seek first the Kingdom, and work Ride.

I know, that I know, that I know I will be ok when I put Him first.  Yesterday was a humbling reminder of what chaos fear wrecks when I don't.  I'm determined to be the victor I know I am.

Which obviously means I must wear a lot more Maize & Blue:)