Schlabor Day, As We Know It Now.

(Photo from 2010; ‘Chelle & Paula’s toes)

Several years ago, my little mama decided that we should begin going to the beach every Labor Day…just our little clan of folks. Dad and Mom; my brother and his fam; me and my fam. Oh the fun we have had throughout the years on these little excursions. Doin’ our thang which always included laughter, food, being ridiculously loud and crazy and then more laughter. It’s pretty safe to say we put the fun in disfunction during these long weekends; as we clearly do in any occasion.

We immediately began calling it Schlabor Day, to honor our family namesake; Schlehmeier. It was a time we all looked forward to and planned for months in advance. Around March, or sometimes the week we got home, Mom would make reservations for a huge house that would fit our motley crew. We stayed at various locations during the years, but always there was a separate bedroom for each married couple, always a kitchen big enough to hold the amount of food it would take to feed a group 67.9 times larger than what was actually there, relatively easy beach access, balconies for cigars and enjoying the beach breeze and plenty of lounging space inside…cuz that is what we do…we lounge. Around 6 weeks before the weekend arrived, my little mama would start emailing me and my partner in crime about meal plans; cuz I swear to God, what is a beach trip without good food, right? The three ladies would all have one supper meal and would all have one breakfast meal. We never had to plan lunches because there was always so many leftovers or junk food, no one needed lunch planned because food was just there if you wanted something. It eventually evolved to include one big outing where the men could drink beer and eat oysters.

Approximately one million pictures were taken throughout these long weekends each year; we wanted the weekends to be in our minds forever and we wanted these little nuggets to be available for remembering each amazing moment! In 2011 was the first actual family beach picture we took. It was always Mom’s favorite. She had every single one of her little chicks in the picture and she loved it for years to come.

(Photo from 2011)

Below, random pictures that commemorate some of the craziness and the fun-loving nature of our clan. I’m not certain where all of the craziness comes from, I’m just very proud that it’s there. We ain’t boring people. It doesn’t even take alcohol to make us crazy, it’s just already there. Ha! But I tried to find just one picture from each Schlabor Day we spent together; some I chose two or three. But enjoy as you scroll. I enjoyed walking through memory lane as I reviewed pics to choose the ones I would upload. A few tears but of course a few chuckles as I remembered.

(Photo from 2012)

(Photo from 2012)

(Photo from 2013)

2013 was another year my little Mama had every one of her little chicks right where she wanted them…together.

(Photo from 2014)

The T-shirts, you’ll notice, are air-brushed creations designed by the famous air brush duo…’Chelle & Paula. For a small nominal fee, they can design your family’s next T also. Ha!

(Photo from 2015)

(Photo from 2016)

Did I say there were always shenanigans?

(Photo from 2017)

Then enters Schlabor Day, 2017. There were still shenanigans, laughter, food, love and more laughter. But there was also some hidden tears, some hidden heart ache, some hidden dread. We knew that one of our precious group would most likely not be with us for another Schlabor Day. Man, when I say we did this year up right, we did it up right.

(Photo from 2017)

‘Chelle found us a house directly on the beach with tons of space, a huge balcony directly overlooking a breathtaking view of this beauty that had been so much a part of our lives since we were babies. For the first time in a couple of years, Mom was able to sit and just soak in the beauty. For the last couple of Schlabor Days, she wasn’t able to get out onto the beach or walk very close due to her knees giving her so much trouble. But this year she soaked it up for hours on the balcony because she knew it was her last time, her last opportunity.

(Photo from 2017)

We all loved a little deeper, laughed a little harder, savored the moments a little more intently because of the cloud that hung over us. We knew time was limited. We lived life differently now.

(Photo from 2017)

This was the final Schlabor Day pic with my little mama included. She loved this little group of people more than I can even begin to explain. Her goal in life was to see her family be together, stay together, stick up for each other and accept each other no matter how stupid or ridiculous we might be acting at the moment. She loved those grands fiercely and you needn’t try to deter that. If she wanted to buy them something, you could hang it up, cuz it was bought. If she wanted to take them somewhere or be somewhere they were, you could hang it up, cuz she was there. She loved fiercely.

This Schlabor Day, Schlabor Day 2018, has been with family, with laughter, with lots of food but with hearts that are still a little lost, still trying to figure out our normal and still asking “who the hell are we exactly right now”. We still shared the weekend together as she would have wanted but we just couldn’t pull off the beach trip. I’m certain that plans would have needed to be made back during the months when we were still floundering from the gravity of the loss of her and we just couldn’t wrap our minds around planning a beach trip when we didn’t know if we wanted to keep living ourselves much less plan a beach trip.

Next year may be different. Who knows? All I know is that grief still sucks us down fiercely at times; demands that we choke on the waters of despair while gasping for precious air. Precious air that one day will be ours again. I do notice moments now when I am allowed to breathe in the fresh air of contentment; moments that do not have that nagging hint of despair and loss. It still presents itself often, but I see hints of contentment now. The feeling that everything-is-okay is ever so slowly coming back. I will never not miss my little mama. I will never not wish we could have her healthy self back with us to spend the rest of our lives with us. But everything is going to be okay one day. One day.

I’m pretty certain she would be fairly content with how we spent Schlabor Day 2018. Pretty content with the fact that we still chose to spend it together, feasted together, gained a few Schlabor Day pounds as usual and just loved on each other. Maybe we will take Schlabor Day back on the road for 2019. We’ll see.

Sipping coffee this morning and thinking about a little mama that loved fiercely; and wanting to be just like her when I grow up. ~paula

 

Haiku! Bless You! I Didn’t Sneeze.

I have always secretly loved a good Haiku. You know…5-7-5? I’m not so much in love with reading Haikus as I am with writing Haikus. I come up with these little suckers in my mind if I’m bored or if I see something funny or if I’m especially impressed with something or if I’m especially annoyed with something. I do this pretty much all the time. I have never once written one down nor have I ever shared this with anyone. Some things are better left unsaid. (Ha!) But seriously, the more I write, the more I realize I am definitely a literary geek…and I’m okay with that…so I decided to get a few of these on paper. Hope you enjoy!

HAIKU

To write a Haiku.

Lines 1-2-3, 5-7-5.

Syllable counts, rock!

>>>————>

<————<<<

COCKROACH

Oh cockroach, oh roach.

I ate you when I was three.

Your legs were crunchy.

>>>————>

<————<<<

BEACH

Waves, larger than life.

Your sound clears all of my thoughts.

Breeze, therapeutic.

>>>————>

<————<<<

CAT LITTER

Thank God for your help.

But I hate your smelliness.

These cats gotta go.

>>>————>

<————<<<

HALLMARK CHANNEL

You let me space out.

Love will always win on here.

No stress for my brain.

>>>————>

<————<<<

SKITTLES

So sweet in my mouth.

I love colors of rainbow.

Happy when with you.

>>>————>

<————<<<

GIRLS

We smell super sweet.

“The taste of cherry chapstick”

Katy Perry likes.

>>>————>

<————<<<

COFFEE

Warm deliciousness.

Trickling into my throat.

Keeping me happy.

>>>————>

<————<<<

DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY

You make me so sick.

I wish you would go to hell.

You make me so sick.

>>>————>

<————<<<

TO KISS

You can close your eyes.

Passion and fiery desire.

Never kiss too fast.

>>>————>

<————<<<

CHRISTMAS

Lights that sparkle bright.

Children’s smiles are everywhere.

Family gathers.

>>>————>

<————<<<

MY HOUSE

It never stayed clean.

Minimalist lifestyle now.

Keep the clutter gone.

>>>————>

<————<<<

WEINER DOGS

They love to burrow.

Quirky personalities.

Annoying but great!

>>>————>

<————<<<

MUSIC

I can’t live without.

It speaks deeply to my soul.

I get that from Mom.

>>>————>

<————<<<

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

I speak my own mind.

Can I use cuss words sometimes?

I get that from Dad.

>>>————>

<————<<<

KETO

Bake, bake, bake bacon.

Omelettes and yumminess.

Shrinking fat rolls now.

>>>————>

<————<<<

MARRIAGE

Can be wonderful.

Can be very annoying.

Make me a sammich.

>>>————>

<————<<<

RAIN

Rain cleanses my thoughts.

I am a pluviophile.

Rain showers are nice.

>>>————>

<————<<<

Sipping coffee and assuming this attempt to entertain myself has you guys pretty bored right about now. (Ha!) But writing Haikus is totally mind clearing. I encourage you to try. ~paula

When You Just Need a Minute

If there is anything that I’ve learned through this stupid grief journey is that sometimes I just need a minute. A minute to breathe, a minute to think about my sweet little mama, a minute to think about what things would be like if Cancer hadn’t reared it’s ugly head, a minute to think about all I wish I could tell her, a minute to just feel the pain, a minute to rip off the peel-n-stick smile I use daily and just cry.

Often lately, I’ve noticed that I wish I had the capability to wiggle my nose and instantly be on the beach for whatever time necessary to clear my head and then wiggle my nose to get me back home. I’m pretty sure I just had an epiphany while typing that sentence. It ain’t rocket science, move to the beach, Paula! (The beach is my most loved place on the earth because I think so clearly there…incase you didn’t know.)

But truly, there are a million instances during this thing called life that require us to regroup, reevaluate, redetermine who we are and who we want to be; you know, take a minute to “settle down” when something turns our world upside down.

So many things can manifest our own personal definition of “world upside down”. To one, the loss of a parent; to another, the loss of a job; an unexpected pregnancy; a car accident leaving one debilitated in some way; a house fire; a spousal affair. I could keep this list flowing for ten hours and still have more things to list. So many things have the ability to rock us to the core.

Why? Why are we so easily knocked on our behinds when things go wrong? I think we go along in life and constantly have these ideas and notions that are our own personal goals in life. We so easily let the words slip from our mouths that we want God’s will to be done, yet we keep making plans and arrangements on our own. We have ideas about what our lives should look like, what our kids’ lives should look like, how our neighbors’ lives should be looking. Goodness. For the most part, we can’t control anything and we just have to figure out how to deal with our new situation; even when it doesn’t fit into our well thought out plans.

I’m not saying that when bad things happen it’s because God wanted them to happen or He wanted us to have a less perfect life than we wanted to have, or even that He wanted to give us a wake up call. I’m just saying that this life isn’t ours. It is supposed to be His. He will not place you in situations that He doesn’t have the ability to walk you through.

When our children make decisions we hate. When our spouses make decisions we can’t tolerate. When things happen that are big, that you just can’t seem to accept, what are we to do?

The most simple thing to do is just take a minute to realize, the world hasn’t actually stopped turning. You are indeed still breathing. You do actually still have the ability to feel true joy, it just might be a minute before you can notice. There is very little in this life that is truly the end of the world.

When my sweet little Mama took her final breath, my heart stopped along with her’s. The problem was, mine started back again. For those few minutes directly afterward, my world was quite literally spinning out of control and I couldn’t catch my breath or have a coherent thought. I saw talking all around me but could only hear the screaming inside my head. I had held it together for so very long and the screaming inside my head was the tears and gut wrenching heart ache that had been waiting for the moment I would finally allow them out. The revelation came…I didn’t have to be strong anymore. When that realization hit my mind and soul, to say I absolutely lost my shit, is quite the understatement. I let a million loud, rushing tears go and it was not pretty to say the least. A solid year’s worth of withheld tears and despair flooded out of my weary and exhausted body. I could hold them back not a second more.

Who knows what all happened after that. Those immediate days following are such a blur to me now. I just know that I was surrounded by so much love and concern and tenderness from friends and family. I’m certain my little mama was orchestrating it all to make certain we were cared for during a time she tried so desperately to prepare us for, because she knew she couldn’t be there to physically help us herself.

What I do remember was the overwhelming need for time to stand still for just a minute. I NEEDED A MINUTE! And I was angry that no one was giving me that minute. I needed that minute to get my mind wrapped around what had occurred but there was no minute to be had. Time marched and I sort of just flowed with it. Had no choice.

But what I was being taught during that time was that there is an amazing God who was still on His throne, who kept His arms around me the whole time and never allowed me to slip under the currents for more than I needed to be under. He didn’t give me more than I could bear…with His help. THAT’s the key. He will not give us more than we can bear…with His help.

There is such a valid lesson in this for every aspect of life. Our kids don’t always choose for themselves the things that we want them to choose. They make downright stupid decisions sometimes; as do our spouses; as do we. Our spouses aren’t always capable of meeting the standard we think is required. Promotions at work don’t always happen when we think they should. Life gets messy! But God is always on His throne…no matter what rocked your little world to the core.

So take your minute when you need it. But don’t stay there. You have to get back to “keepin’ on”. You have to figure out how to keep moving and growing. I saw on a church sign one time, “If God brought you to it, He’ll bring you through it.” Right? Right.

Sipping coffee tonight and being so very thankful for parents who taught me that nothing that happens to make our life messy or troubled or rocked-to-the-core is the end of the world. Nothing. ~paula

What Am I Running From?

Have you ever wondered what wakes a person up in the morning? I’m pretty certain it’s safe to say I have never wondered what wakes any specific person up. I’ve never sat at my desk or on the church pew and wondered “Hmmm? What ringtone wakes so-and-so up every morning?” Cuz, quite frankly, that’s just weird. But just incase you’ve ever wondered what wakes me up, it’s the dreaded RADAR ringtone from my iPhone!

This morning, as I scrambled to snatch and strangle the culprit of what I considered the most dreaded sound to have ever pierced my ear drums, I had already begun to try and come up with a legitimate reason to call out of work. I was exhausted and wanted to go back to sleep. I didn’t hit snooze but I did decide to set the alarm for thirty extra minutes.

Honestly, I didn’t get another second of sleep during that thirty extra minutes. I just kept mulling over any reason I could possibly think up that I could use to call out. Nothing sounded legitimate and I absolutely refused to lie about a reason for calling out.

Any of you that know me well, know that I despise calling out and rarely do. I do believe that situations arise that make it super legitimate to call out, but some people look for reasons all the time and actually use them. Those are typically the co-workers I do not respect. (This is not to be confused with scheduled vacay days. Scheduled vacay days are a must when trying to maintain sanity.) But, I believe that when you agree to work for an agency…you agree to work for an agency whether you feel like it or not. They pay you whether they feel like it or not, right? So, with a little bit of work ethic, let’s come to work people. (That was my version of a public service announcement and general pep talk. Ha!)

But, I digress.

This morning I kept hanging out on my pillow. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to copy/paste a smile today. Making small-talk seemed positively abhorrent. I had no desire to do anything productive. No motivation. No energy. But still, I had no true or legitimate reason to not go in to work. I wanted so badly to call out just because but I could find nothing honorable in that.

Why didn’t I want to go? I love my job. Some would say that with drops of sarcasm but I do truly love my job.

As any good Social Worker would do, I began to analyze where in the world these feelings were coming from. What was I running from? I had no specific task that I dreaded for the day. I had no huge to-do list that was daunting. I had no specific problem cases that kept me wanting to hide under the covers. I had nothing that hurt, ached or felt sick in any way. What was I running from?

I came up with absolutely nothing. So I got my behind up, nursed a huge cup of coffee as I sat on the couch and stared off into space and then left for work. (Somewhere in the mix, I did brush my teeth as well.)

As I turned the first big curve in the road, my thoughts began the old familiar slide show that is so common for my morning commute. With the steering wheel in one hand and coffee cup in the other, I allowed my mind to flash to my sweet little mama. I watched snippets of her final days and mulled over priceless conversations that I will cherish for the rest of my life here on earth. I pictured some of the wonderful, intentional moments spent with family during her last year; laughter, tears, hugs, food, more laughter…did I mention laughter?

I thought of all the things I absolutely long to tell her; things that I know she would want to know. How Dad is doing, what is new with every single person in her little family, if we are taking care of Dad as we had promised. Hunter is doing an amazing job in band and loving it. Kelsi is beginning college and has the world at her fingertips. Zack is now a band director and lives in Florida. Madison babysat this summer full time and did an amazing job. Lee and Ana are killin’ it with their college classes. And p.s. Lee drove me in his car and I almost peed my pants…it was the most exhilarating feeling in the world! Ha!

Before I knew it, silent tears rolled down my face. Not a loud ugly cry…just the silent I-miss-my-Mama cry that is part of who I am now.

I’ve learned that, for now, sorrow and hurt still well just underneath the surface, waiting to burst forth whenever I will let them. Just underneath the smiling face that says “I’m okay” are tears that wait patiently, ready for a moments notice for the go signal. I miss my mama.

After the tears dried and my thoughts cleared, I had a very important epiphany for the day.

I was actually not running from anything earlier this morning. I was trying to run toward the grief that engulfs me sometimes. If I had listened to the hints my body gave me this morning, I would have stayed home to grieve appropriately today. I tell my families often to not run from their grief, embrace it, ride the waves, feel the pain, but always, no matter what, be honest and truthful about where they’re at for the moment; get it out in some healthy way. I apparently haven’t listened to anything I’ve said during the last 18 years of working with grieving families. (I’m apparently a slow learner.)

Yes, I arrived at work with a mildly red nose and puffy eyes…no make-up remained whatsoever…but everyone showed kindness and it was never mentioned. I sat down at my desk and got on with the work day. Busy with stuff, my mind shifted fairly easily from my little mama to other things. I was okay. But had I done myself an injustice? Maybe if I had just allowed myself to remain at home today, I would be a little ahead in this crazy game of grief. Maybe I would still be as far ahead of the game because I at least gave myself the hour commute to spend with my grief. Who knows…certainly not me. I’ve learned that, for the most part, grief is a guessing game where flexibility is a must.

Sipping coffee tonight and wondering who noticed how I set my alarm to address me each morning. Ha!!! Also wondering if you can tell the oftentimes capricious nature of grief through this entry…tears and sadness this morning; laughter and light hearted comments tonight. ~paula

A Social Worker’s Heart

Sometimes your determination to have a middle-of-the-day visit, forces me to drive 50 extra miles because my other scheduled visits were all on the other side of the county.

…but I agree because my Social Worker heart cares about you and I genuinely want to visit with you.

Sometimes the 50 extra miles I drove to back track and meet at your requested time, makes me late picking up my kiddo at the end of the day.

…but I will do it because my Social Worker heart cares about you and your situation may be a little more dire than my own.

Sometimes I frustrate you because I won’t call a resource for you or complete a form for you.

…but I do it because my Social Worker heart wants to empower you to tap community resources on your own.

Sometimes when I’m sitting in your living room, holding your hand while you share of your anticipatory grief, I’m trying not to squirm because I haven’t peed in hours.

…but I endure because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

Sometimes while driving to your house, I skip running through the drive-thru for lunch because it might take too long and I don’t want to be late.

…but I do it because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

Sometimes when I listen to your grief story it makes me sad about my own grief story.

…but I do it because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

Sometimes I cry when I leave your home because my heart breaks for your grief or because I know, before you do, the gravity of the loss you are about to experience.

…but I do it because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

Sometimes when I say hard things to you, I wish someone other than me could have said it, would have said it or that you would have just made better choices on your own.

…but I would say them all over, again and again, if it would help you because my Social Worker heart cares for you deeply.

Sometimes, on the night before my visit to your home, I had to stay up all night with a sick child and I’m utterly exhausted and worried you will take my yawns for boredom or disinterest.

…but I come on into work because my Social Worker heart cares about you and am neither bored nor disinterested. Just tired.

Sometimes I am actually disinterested in what you are saying because I just received a text from a family member that said “call me as soon as you can” and it created worry in me for my family’s well-being.

…my Social Worker heart cares about you deeply but it also cares fiercely about my own family.

Sometimes I’m grumpy because I didn’t get to drink enough coffee before I left home or my husband and I were on the outs with each other, but I force myself to be pleasant with you and caring because my grumpiness was not caused by you.

…I protect you from my personal grumpiness because my Social Worker heart knows you did nothing to deserve that.

Sometimes when you’re grumpy with me for no known reason, I bite my tongue so as to not respond with grump because I know I didn’t cause your grumpiness either; most likely your circumstances did.

…I bite my tongue to maintain a working relationship with you because my Social Worker heart knows you won’t be grumpy by the time I leave your home…if I did my job correctly.

Sometimes I arrive at your home immediately after hanging up the phone from a disgruntled caregiver who just cussed at me mercilessly for something that had nothing to do with me, or maybe that did have something to do with me, but I figure out a way to provide you with smiles and concern while I’m with you, as if nothing happened.

…but I do it because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

Yes, your request seemed small. No, I haven’t gotten around to doing it yet because there were a million other small requests on my to-do list before yours and sometimes I don’t have enough hours in my day. Yes, I feel guilty. Please know I’m working as fast as I can.

…I often come in early or work late because I genuinely want to help you because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

Yes, I sometimes run behind schedule because a family needed me a little longer. Please be forgiving, as you might be that family one day and I will give you the time you need as well.

…I will stay as long as you need me because my Social Worker heart cares too deeply sometimes.

I have cried with families. I have cried for families.

…I do it because my Social Worker heart cares deeply and hurts for and with you.

While I was strong for you as your loving spouse of 60+ years took his last breath, and just days before, while I taught you how to support him and comfort him at end of life; I still grieved over the loss of my precious mother.

…but I did it because my Social Worker heart cares about you.

I’ve allowed silent tears to stream down my face as I hugged you in your loss while I continued to grieve from loss of my own.

…I keep doing this because my Social Worker heart cares deeply and won’t let me stop.

I sometimes have exciting plans for a beach trip with friends coming up and I’d like to share it with you because we have become accustomed to sharing small trivial personal things with each other, but I hold back because I know you won’t be able to take anymore trips like that and I don’t want you to feel left out or sad.

…I do that because my Social Worker heart cares about you deeply but also needs to rejuvenate so that I can keep on helping you and countless others like you.

Sipping coffee today, thankful for this Social Worker heart of mine and the countless families who have blessed me more than they will ever know; far more than I could ever return to them. ~paula

Mr. Man at the Rest Area

The other day I was working my way through the work day when I realized I probably just attended a Divine appointment.

The day began as a typical day would in the world of Home Health and Hospice Social Work. I finished up documentation from the day before, faxed last minute details regarding an inpatient rehab stay for a patient that was no longer improving at home, discussed a case with our Occupational Therapist and made arrangements to retrieve items ordered to increase a patient’s independence at home, reviewed a case that had possible caregiver breakdown; all while sipping cold but yummy coffee like a boss! (Wait, if I was a boss, someone might have heated it up for me. Ha!) Four patients awaited my arrival and I was ready to get on the road to see them.

With the length of time in the office and all of the coffee sipped, I knew to potty before I left because one thing for sure was that a bladder was not designed to hold an entire pot of coffee for very long. So. All tasks completed…it was time to hit the road.

I put all of my Social Work paraphernalia in the car, walked around to the driver’s seat but noticed just how disgusting my ride looked. The mud from south Alabama dirt roads after rain was accompanied by the routine road filth that builds up week after week. My guess was that the thick layer of filth on the outside of my car had to be effecting my gas mileage by now. So the next stop was the 5 minute automated car wash.

Finally the work day was back underway as my sparkling ride veered into traffic and cruised toward the first destination; music, of course, set just right. After numerous miles were made and several sets completed of the travel concert that was a constant while in the car, the first destination was getting close. It then became evident that another potty break was necessary. Damn coffee slowing my roll again!

In perfect timing, I noticed a blue rectangular suggestion beside the 4-lane that a Rest Area neared. I traveled the distance, whipped into the parking spot, shut off the engine, jumped out, locked up and sprinted through the rain that had begun to drizzle with the expectation to dash in and dash out.

Wrong.

That was when Mr. Man at the Rest Area (MMRA) entered my day.

Brief pleasantries were exchanged as I entered and walked past the man behind the counter. When I walked to exit the rest area though, I mentioned that I hoped the rain would stop soon because I had many miles to accomplish before the work day was done. He commented, “I know what you mean. By the way, can I ask you a question?”

With that small question, my inner spirit cringed such a deep cringe that the professional poker face I own almost let me down. I didn’t have time for a long conversation. I didn’t want to answer any long nursing questions. (I wear scrubs and sometimes get the most in-depth nursing questions before I can get the phrase out of my mouth “I’m not a nurse, I’m a Social Worker.”) I just didn’t have time. I had patients. But with my most interested upbeat voice and accepting facial expression, I exclaimed, “certainly”.

MMRA proceeded to ask if I was a nurse, to which I explained, I was a Social Worker for a local Home Health and Hospice. This prompted MMRA to share of his grandmother who passed last year, his grief journey through the last few months and that their family used a competitor of ours who he thought did a wonderful job taking care of his beloved grandmother. I assured him that there are several wonderful hospice agencies in the area who mostly employ the same general types of people; ones who are compassionate, have a deep rooted love for all people as well as the genuine desire to help their fellow man. MMRA voiced agreement that it must be true.

But as we chatted further, I’m not certain that he ever truly asked the specific question for which he stopped me; I was fairly certain he wasn’t going to just ask if I was a nurse.

He mentioned studying to be a youth pastor, driving the church van and that he wanted to share God’s love anytime he could. He voiced that he knew I must be a Christian due to my caring nature, which I confirmed. He later mentioned that it’s easy to say we’re Christians but it’s hard to truly act like one; to which I firmly agreed.

He talked of an aunt that retired within the last few years from an agency where I used to work. I reveled in an it’s a small world moment as I shared that I remembered her very well and had actually just driven by her home within the last two weeks working in an area that was not typical for my work day. How strange that I would run into the nephew of this lady after I had just passed her house in an area that I hadn’t been for over five years. Crazy.

Chatter died down and I really had to get to my four patients so I bid farewell and headed to my car. All I could think to myself was why in the world did that conversation happen? I had always been a firm believer that things happened for a reason; this random conversation would be no different.

Maybe MMRA needed a moment to honor his beloved Grandmother with shared memories to a complete stranger? Maybe MMRA needed to affirm his faith and his decision to become a youth pastor by sharing that with a complete stranger? Maybe MMRA knew deep down this complete stranger needed a reminder that being a Christian is more than just singing in the choir and doing churchy things; that it’s more about a relationship with a Heavenly Father, sharing God’s love to the world and making certain you are walking in His will? MMRA’s comment, “sometimes you’re the only Bible a person will ever see” played over and over. The reality sank in deeply; Paula does not always look like a Bible; Paula does not even look like a Bible most of the time.

Sipping coffee this morning and wondering if Mr. Man at the Rest Area knew he had an impact on my heart with that random…or maybe not as random as I’d like to think…conversation. ~paula

Getting Rid

I am basically over spending needlessly, collecting junk that does not make me giddy with joy, storing things that I might need one day, organizing closets so everything will fit.

I. Am. Done.

I currently have a guest bedroom that wouldn’t hold an actual guest if it’s very life depended on it. I have stuff organized and shoved into nooks and crannies that shouldn’t be holding anything, much less the choice of ridiculous tidbits that I have obtained…and stored…through the years. Sadly, the nooks and crannies in my guest bedroom currently need nooks and crannies.

What makes us feel this absurd desire to store, collect, save?

I have a walk-in closet. But guess what? I can’t walk in. Clothes hanging that I wore ten years ago and even if the size was still correct, the fashion certainly is not. The fashion most likely wasn’t right when I actually bought them, per my kiddo. Ha!Boxes for printers, computers, cellular phones stored…wait for it…wait for it…incase we need to send it back. Newsflash! If you don’t even still have that printer, you’re not going to be sending anything back! Papers. Never ending mounds of papers. Why? Why are they in my beautiful walk in closet with the amazing storage unit?

I don’t know why we ever allow ourselves to place items in charge of our home. I am determined that from now til Jesus Himself comes back for His children, I will be the one in charge of what-goes-where in my home, what items enter this home and what items remain in this home.

I’ve come to terms with the knowledge that clutter equals chaos. I will allow it no more. Getting rid of unnecessary stuff is the name of my game right now.

Clutter comes in so many forms. Unhealthy relationships. Unhealthy spending habits. Unhealthy uses of our time. Unfinished projects. If you truly evaluate your situation, you may realize that quite a bit of your relationships, most of your expenses and a huge majority of your chosen uses of time are needless and destructive to your well-being. Why do we allow our sanity to be chipped away by things, of which, we should be fully in control?

We have absolute control over spending time with friends or acquaintances who tear us down and deplete our inner well-being. (Just don’t go.) We have absolute control over what our hard-earned money is spent towards. (Just say no.) We have absolute control over how we spend our time. (Stop agreeing to everything, you can’t do everything. And if you did, it all wouldn’t be done well. Right?)

We not only should have a place in our home that brings us peace, tranquility and relaxation; but our home should bring us peace, tranquility and relaxation; as should our relationships and our finances.

Goodness. Just thinking about the opportunity with which I’m faced in this game of declutter, encouraged an optimistic feeling that crept into my soul and a feeling of carrying less weight has begun.

I just want a home that actually looks clean when I clean. (Ha!) God knows how bad I hate to clean; I certainly need to be able to stand back and admire my work when I do actually get around to cleaning. That only makes sense to those of you who have more stuff than the space you’ve been allotted. (Like me!) I want the stuff that I have in my home to be stuff that makes me smile when I view it; not stuff that makes me anxious to look that direction because I know it needs some attention…like transportation to the trash can or thrift store.

I also want a home where I don’t see ten different unfinished projects because I don’t have the cash flow, time or energy to complete because of all the clutter I’ve allowed into my life. As of this second, I have two living rooms, two bathrooms and one bedroom that still need paint; two living rooms that need trim work from flooring put in months ago. Frustrating.

Now granted, the majority of these project delays were due to time well-spent with my precious Mama during her final months that I will never once regret, even if I live to be a million years old. But it’s time to start taking back control of a life that became chaotic during a time when I could only focus one one thing…a mama that was preparing for the most important journey she had ever taken that would rock our world to the core.

But one of my last purchases was a big box of the flex trash bags; biggest size bags and box available. You would be surprised by how much junk will go into a strategically packed flex bag. Over the next few weeks and months, the local thrift store will obtain quite possibly half of the items in my house, maybe a husband or kid also? Well, I don’t know that they would fit in the flex bag so I probably better just let them stay. (Not to mention, that just raises too many questions anyway. Currently laughing out loud right now.)

But just to let you know, I’m sipping coffee tonight out of one of the few mugs I will actually be keeping as I declutter. If it doesn’t bring me great joy or a sense of peacefulness…it’s outta here! ~paula