It's been a long time since I've written here

I have not written on this blog since March.  I'm not sure why.  I've written so many words in the past few months and yet, not on here.  There must be some emotional reason why, but for now HELLO BLOG FRIENDS.

Updates:

1.  I'm well into writing my book, "An Echo In The Veil".  I'm excited about it.  I think about it all the time.  In fact, it seems my characters are so alive in my head, they never have time to sleep.  I have one publisher that has agreed to read my manuscript when it is complete.  I will begin posting wee bites of the book here, on the blog.

2.  We just got back from a life changing, mind altering experience in NYC.  I was blessed to be able to sing with the contemporary hymn writing couple, Keith and Kristyn Getty, formerly from Northern Ireland, now residing in Nashville.

I was part of their "Joy-An Irish Christmas" concert series.  But the most amazing part of the experience is that it was in Carnegie Hall!  I still have trouble believing that I actually did this.   The experience was absolutely spectacular.

I was part of the choir.  The level of talent seated around me was astonishing.  I will write more about the details of this experience in another blog post.

3.  My disease is still here.  But I am grateful that in the past few weeks, due to the prayers lifted to God by a dear friend, my pain levels have been much better.  Praise God!

4.  Back in the fall, I officially became an oblate with the sisters at Sacred Heart Monastery in Cullman, Alabama.  Prayer is one of the joys of my life.  Learning different avenues of prayer has been a blessing beyond words.  More to come on that as well.

Here is a wee snipet from my manuscript that I recently rolled about in my mind and then typed out on the computer.  Enjoy.

I sat up in the huge, castle bed, stretched and had a moment of epiphany. I realized that each and every morning, my first thought was always the same. "Where are my glasses?" I blinked hard a few times, yawned a jaw cracking yawn and rubbed my eyes before reaching for the night stand. Ever faithful, there my spectacles sat, waiting patiently through the night, to be perched again upon my nose. I looked about the lovely room, reminded myself that I was indeed, still in Scotland. I peered out of the deep set castle window and saw the freshly mowed lawn sparkle in the morning light. My breath caught as I offered up a whispered prayer, "My God! This place is spectacular. Thank you for bringing me here.
(C) 2014, Kelley Smith "Echo In the Veil

Lace is back!!!

1985.  My degree is in fashion merchandising and marketing.  Because of that degree, I studied costume history.  It was there I feel in love with lace and beading and 1920s style.  No surprise that my first choice of jobs were in the bridal field.  Perhaps it was looking at pictures of my Grandmother Mrytle that I feel in love with that style.  No matter, I love that style.  

In my fashion history classes I, II and III, we had to learn to draw those fashions.  I adored it!  Every single, teeny, tiny, amazing detail. 

Skip forward past 25 years of ugly clothes.  I know others will disagree, but we haven't had any really pretty clothes in a long, long time.  Jeans that don't fit, neon colors, sequins on a tshirt?, shoes that are clunky or ridiculous high heels, dresses that....well they are just ugly.  Gaudy jewels.  Shirts that are too tight and show your belly (gag).  I have detested the past couple of decades in fashion. 

BUT then came Downton Abbey!  4 seasons of period drama and BAM!  Swoon.  Sigh.  Celebrate.  Lovely fashions have returned!!!!  Lace, beading, longer hemlines, amazing colors, soft fabrics.....AND THE ANGELS SANG!!! 

Perhaps it's showing my age, but I absolutely despise seeing  young ladies dressing like they belong in a pole dance club walking into the church building or strutting about the grocery store.  There is so much to be said for modesty and allowing for a bit of mystery in one's attractions. 

I am among the few that also adore hosiery!  Lace, white, beige.....ADORE!  I know that's crazy, but the look is absolutely stunning in my humble, retro opinion. 

I walked in to my local favorite place to shop and just nearly clicked my heels together and sang in delight when I saw row after row of lovely dresses and tops in this retro style and LACE!  TaDA!!!  I giggled out loud! 

So crazy or not, I am in love with the so called "new" Downton style because in truth it is my own style.  The style that has lain dormant in my heart for 25 years while I trudged through decade after decade of grundge and yuk. 

Fashion is back baby and I'm soooooooooo excited! 

St. Patrick's Day Preparations

St.  Patrick's Day at my  house is big!  Really big.  We celebrate with gifts, decorations including a tree and garland, food, friends, family, lovely music......sound familiar?

It's so much fun to me.  I love the real meaning behind the holiday which is the celebration of the life of an incredible man, Patrick.  Here is information from Catholic Online.

St. Patrick of Ireland is one of the world's most popular saints. 

Apostle of Ireland, born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in Scotland, in the year 387; died at Saul, Downpatrick, Ireland, 17 March, 461.

Along with St. Nicholas and St. Valentine, the secular world shares our love of these saints. This is also a day when everyone's Irish. 

There are many legends and stories of St. Patrick, but this is his story. 

Patrick was born around 385 in Scotland, probably Kilpatrick. His parents were thought to be Calpurnius and Conchessa, who were Romans living in Britian in charge of the colonies. 

As a boy of fourteen or so, he was captured during a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to herd and tend sheep. Ireland at this time was a land of Druids and pagans. He learned the language and practices of the people who held him. 

During his captivity, he turned to God in prayer. He wrote

"The love of God and his fear grew in me more and more, as did the faith, and my soul was rosed, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers and in the night, nearly the same." "I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain." 

Patrick's captivity lasted until he was twenty, when he escaped after having a dream from God in which he was told to leave Ireland by going to the coast. There he found some sailors who took him back to Britian, where he reunited with his family. 

He had another dream in which the people of Ireland were calling out to him "We beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once more." 

He began his studies for the priesthood. He was ordained by St. Germanus, the bishop of Auxerre, whom he had studied under for years. 

Later, Patrick was ordained a bishop, and was sent to take the Gospel to Ireland. He arrived in Ireland March 25, 433, at Slane. One legend says that he met a chieftain of one of the tribes, who tried to kill Patrick. Patrick converted Dichu (the chieftain) after he was unable to move his arm until he became friendly to Patrick. 

Patrick began preaching the Gospel throughout Ireland, converting many. He and his disciples preached and converted thousands and began building churches all over the country. Kings, their families, and entire kingdoms converted to Christianity when hearing Patrick's message. 

Patrick by now had many disciples, among them Beningnus, Auxilius, Iserninus, and Fiaac, (all later canonized as well). 

Patrick preached and converted all of Ireland for 40 years. He worked many miracles and wrote of his love for God in Confessions. After years of living in poverty, traveling and enduring much suffering he died March 17, 461.  He died at Saul, where he had built the first church. 

Why a shamrock? Patrick used the shamrock to explain the Trinity, and has been associated with him and the Irish since that time. 

In His Footsteps:

Patrick was a humble, pious, gentle man, whose love and total devotion to and trust in God should be a shining example to each of us. He feared nothing, not even death, so complete was his trust in God, and of the importance of his mission. 

I also love the holiday as a time to celebrate all things Irish.  It's no secret that I love my Scot-Irish Heritage and try to share it with as many as possible.  The country is beyond comprehension in beauty.  The food is grand.  The accents are most lovely.  The stories are amazing.  The people are most hospitable.  The culture speaks so deep into my heart that I honestly believe my love of Ireland and Scotland is in my DNA.  

Today I'm working on my menu plans for our annual party which is held on the Saturday of, or before St. Patrick's Day.  So, I'm one week from party day :)  I'm doing a bit of research and development in the kitchen today.  It smells  heavenly.  I LOVE this time of year.  It soothes my soul and makes my heart sing....with an Irish lilt!  

 

Lent for a Church of Christ Girl

Growing up CoC, I remember often hearing about the scripture that told us DON'T CELEBRATE HOLY DAYS.  At least that was what I was told.  It made no sense to me then or now.  Honestly it didn't make one lick of sense that fellow Christians would judge those who celebrate Christmas, Easter and such as a time to focus on Christ, but were all about celebrating death and goulishness on Halloween.  What?!

Here is the scripture I'm talking about.  "One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind."  Romans 14:5  It is especially interesting to look back at verse 4 and see that it begins with "Who are you to judge..."  

So.....I am fully convinced "in my own mind" that I am not smart enough to do everything that I know I should.  The older I get, the more I realize how pitifully flawed I am. I also know more than anyone just how human I am.  I know that every single day I am to think upon the death, burial and resurrection of my Savior. I do at some point throughout each day, BUT (and this is a big BUT) I do not do it as deeply or with as much reverence as I should.  What He did is so huge, so AWE INSPIRING that it deserves more time and more effort than I give it on a day to day basis.  So, knowing this about myself and likely you, I need to do something to hold my thoughts captive and dwell on His goodness. 

I'm not binding this on anyone.  I'm binding it on me because I know me.  After almost 50 years of living inside this body, I know that without these specific attempts at meditation on the various aspects of my salvation, I tend to forget and breeze through life without absorbing the magnitude of these things.  So basically, this just helps me focus.  Because God knows my intention is to surrender my will to HIM and focus on HIM, even when I fail miserably at it, I believe with all my heart He rewards that intention's journey with more peace, comfort and joy in life.   
So this girl dwells 40 days in the Lenten observance because I am convinced of it with my whole heart and mind.  My soul needs this spiritual food. 

There are days within the Lenten calendar that I fast.  Sometimes it's food, but sometimes it's other things that inch and shimmy focus away from Jesus.  Internet.  Books.  Television.  Whatever.  It's different with each person.  I happen to be a fair expert on what it is with me, but I have no idea what it is with you.  So, as scripture says who am I do judge? 

I'm speaking for me only when I say that in this life I often forget who I am.  I am just a simple minded child of God. I am often ungrateful. Even on my best days, I sin.  And on my worst days, I sin a heap.  I tend to forget that I'm  no one special and extraordinary all in the same breath.  My sin is just as heavy as another person's sin.  I need to be reminded who made me, how frail I am and what joy is to come.  

If you don't dwell in the Lenten season, I encourage you to take the time to examine your flawed, frailness in the next 40 days.  It's in that awareness that we become awed at how much we need a Savior.  Praise God one was sent.  His name was Jesus.  

The clock is ticking......

I'm literally counting down the days until we hit Celtic soil again.  As with every trip, I always think, "I've never been more ready to get out of here!"   I've been wanting to get away to Ireland and/or Scotland since Angie went to rest in Jesus.  Thanks to my husband, his Marriott points, my friend Tracy and her ability to plan a trip to Iona with grace...we will be going soon. 

We will be there for quite a while.  Almost 3 weeks (Swoon) of my life will be spent in Scotland this year.  We had originally planned a stop over in Ireland, but after the idea for my book took a hold of my heart and brain, it was apparent that we needed to devote to the time in  Scotland.  So  Scotland it is. 

John and I both feel a huge tug for the Celtic lands.  Last night we ran by the grocery to pick up a few things before our movie date and I grabbed some Kerrygold Irish butter.  When I did, he said, "You know I seriously want to live there.  I'm not kidding.  Seriously."  I just laugh.  We both have the dream of one day spending at least part of our retirement years on  Celtic soil.  If it weren't for family, I'd  zip out of here today and never look back.  But, our wee ones and parents make a permanent move difficult. 

Edinburgh Castle

Our plan on this trip is to fly into Edinburgh and spend several days there and going just a bit south in the lowlands to my family's ancestral castle "Dalhousie".  There is also an abbey nearby the castle that has links to Iona.  Coincidence?  No, I think not.  After Edinburgh and surrounding areas, we will meet Tracy and friends in Glasgow as we begin the journey to Iona, island of my heart and soul. 

A week will be spent on the wee island of Iona.  I am particularly drawn to the nunnery, so I plan to take advantage of every waking moment being inspired by the place of my dream, day dreams and writing inspiration.  If my travel companions cannot find me, they will know where to look. 

We will be staying again at the Argyll in the wee, and I do mean wee, village of Bali Moor.  The village consists of two wee hotels, a small general store, a pub (always a pub), a lovely place to eat, a house or two and.....well that's it.  No tellies, no radio, very few cars, quiet...blissful quiet.  The ancient abbey, a few churches, the ancient graveyard, the walk of the dead, Dun-I (the highest point on the island), the north shore, Martyr's Bay......I find myself relaxing even as I type these words. 

After departing Iona, we will say goodbye to our dear friends and continue on to the Highlands.  We will be staying in the Aviemore and  Inverness area.  We will see Loch Ness, Culloden and Ft. William.  John has many places he wants to poke around in.  And then....in much too short of a time, we will have to head back across the Atlantic to the states. 

The world is different for me in Scotland and Ireland.  I feel connected.  More and more here in this life, I feel less and less connected to places and people. I almost feel like the tether that hold me to this earth is letting go.  But there....it is different.  I feel so incredibly close to my ancestors, my God, the Spirit and Jesus.  The land awakens something deep in my soul.  I feel so at peace.  The land soothes my soul and makes me listen with more intention. 

My soul is wounded these days, but healing.  My dearest friend died and it's left a gaping wound.  But God has been faithful to continuously apply His Holy ointment of hope, joy and love on my wounds.  I praise Him for the trip.  I'll even praise Him if for some reason we end up not being able to go, but my prayer is deep that He will allow for this trip to come through as planned....unless of course the trumpet blows and we are all taken up in the air to see our sweet Jesus.  Sigh.

What is it I seek on this trip?  Many things actually.  I seek inspiration for continuing to write my book.  I seek God's voice in the Celtic breezes. I seek His touch in the whisper of seas.  I seek a connection with my past with hopes for it helping me in the future.  I seek renewing my beloved friendships with Tracy, Sara and Ruth.  I want to pray with them again.  I want to stand in Matthew's chapel behind the abbey on Iona and quietly sing praises to God again with them. I want to silently listen to the whisper of time's past in St. Oran's chapel and the nunnery.  O how I long for the nunnery.  THAT fact is so difficult to explain. 

My heart is happiest when there are trips planned in my life.  A friend told me once that I'm a "wandering old soul."  I take that as a compliment of the highest order. 

Sara and Brigid

Kelley on north shore of Iona

I'm writing a novel.  (Feels good to say that.) I've always written, but never considered writing fiction until now.  The idea came into my head and the ideas and words started flowing.  It appears you should never count anything out where God's plan is concerned. 

I've written and been published in the past, but never EVER with fiction.  It's all been with devotional writing and also food writing and photography.  I thought I would eventually publish a cookbook.  I had some strong leads with my cookbook a while back, but they didn't follow all the way through. 

Rejection is the worst part of writing because your words are like your babies.  You carry the words around with you, birth them onto  paper or computer screen and then deliver them to publishers.  Then the publishers can and most likely will reject your precious baby words.  It's heart breaking and so personal.  The publishing industry estimates approximately 90 rejections per acceptance.  Not.good.odds. And yet, I more forward. 

In my novel, the main character's name is Sara.  Why Sarah? I always wanted to name a girl baby Sara, but we never had a baby girl.  Also, one of my dear Iona sister friends is named Sara.  Since the book is set on Iona, Sara seemed a natural fit for her name. 

The secondary character, who recently died and was best friends with Sara, is named Brigid.  Brigid is loosely based on me and Sara is loosely based on Angie.  In this fictional world, Brigid (the Kelley-ish character) died instead of Sara (the Angie-ish character).  Sara, an elementary school teacher, is recently divorced and has 3 grown children.  While the story about Sara and Brigid is not a story of Angie and Kelley, the characters have some of our personality quirks and share the experience of grief.  It's proving to be interesting and therapeutic to consider how Angie might have moved forward in life without me instead of the way it really is. 

Dalhousie Castle, Bonnyrigg, Scotland

This will be a story about deep love, crushing grief and spiritual renewal.  There is a paranormal twist in the book because Sara will eventually cross paths with a 15th century nun named Anastasia.  Ana Ramsey is based on a vision in my head about a girl who could have lived at Dalhousie Castle in Bonnyrigg, Scotland, just south of Edinburgh.  Dalhousie is my family's ancestral castle, complete with the family coat of arms carved in the stones above the door.  In my story, Ana is also facing a mountain of grief and  recently moved to and made her vocation known at the nunnery on Iona. 

Here is an interesting historical fact. Anastasia Ramsey is also the name of a real nun who served and died at the monastery I am an oblate with, Sacred Heart Monastery in Cullman, AL.  The real Anastasia also edited a hymnal while at Sacred Heart. 

I'm mixing fact with fiction, grief and love, heart break with recovery.  God leads the way through it all. 

Iona Nunnery ruins

1 Year Ago

Feb. 3, 2013 was one of the saddest days of my life.  It was the day I watched Angie fade almost away.  On this day one year ago, her sweet spirit was just a wisp. I spent as much time as I could with her on that day. 

I sang with her one last time. 
I kissed her forehead one last time. 
I held her hand one last time.

I knew the time was close, but I still wasn't ready.  We left her house around midnight. 

In the wee hours of the morning on Feb. 4th, my phone rang.  It was Ronnie to tell me she was gone.  At 3:18am on Feb. 4, my friend saw Jesus and went to rest in Him. (Acts 7) 

There is so much I want to say and yet so little that I can say.  My life has been forever changed.  I've had to learn to deal with this big Angie sized hole in my heart.  It's a mean, ugly process that must be dealt with not avoided. It's still a very raw wound, but it is healing. 

I've learned so much about her and about myself in the past 2 years.  We are both stronger than we knew we were.  I think we both loved and depended on each other more than we realized.  We were so incredibly blessed in our friendship. 

I dream about her from time to time and that makes me happy...sometimes.  Sometimes it just flat out breaks my heart because I wake up and have to realize that she is really still gone.  The fact that I dream about her doesn't make me sick, strange or weird.  It makes me a deep friend.  I say this because someone said that if you are dreaming about a loved one then you need to do a better job moving on.  That person has no idea what they are talking about. 

Laughing again was hard.  Feeling joy again was hard.  Moving on was hard.  But in this most terrible of years, I've learned to laugh again with joy and move along.  Not without pain and even some survivor guilt, but I'm doing well.

Feb. 4th has now linked the two girls I most consider my earthly sisters.  My cousin Jane who is like a sister to me was born on Feb. 4.  My best friend Angie who was like a sister to me passed from this life on Feb. 4.  I find that odd and yet fascinating.  God is so perfect that He lined up life in a way that on one special day of the year, I can  rejoice over the relationship I have with these two brilliant, lovely women.  Life came full circle in a sense on Feb. 4.

I've learned that grieving is tough, but God is tougher.  My heart is still broken but it's healing.  Angie's death will forever leave a tender scar on my heart.  I don't think I'll ever get over losing her or get used to it, but I will continue to walk forward in the grace of God. I'm so thankful that God let me have all those years with her by my side. 

Tomorrow I will remember Angie by having lunch with one of our dearest friends, Wendy.  She led me by the hand one year ago this week.  I honestly don't think I could have ever survived it without her.  We are going to visit, laugh and likely cry a wee bit too.  But that's ok.  Crying and being sad is ok. If you are grieving, don't let anyone tell you different. People can be horribly cruel to a grieving heart. 

Tomorrow I will go by myself and lay a new wreath at Angie's grave.  I will raise my voice in prayers of praise to God for allowing me this very rare friendship.  Who am I to have deserved such a gift?  I am no one and fail Him often, yet He still blesses me beyond measure. My heart rejoices even in sadness.

Tomorrow I will also celebrate life.  My precious Jane is alive and well and is an extraordinary mother, daughter, cousin, sister and aunt.  She blesses me so. 

In linking Jane with Angie, I am reminded the importance of remembering and also celebrating. 

I miss you Angie.  Happy Birthday Jane.

(Photo above is of Angie and myself when we were both pregnant for the first time (1991).  We went through pregnancy together and even child birth classes together.  We both had boys who grew up to be besties too. They were born 6 weeks apart.)

Silence is my soul food.

John, Adam and I went on retreat this weekend with several lovelies from our church.  It is a college worship conference called "Gulf Coast Getaway".  So on Friday, we traveled down south to Panama City Beach, Florida.  It was yummy from the first moment away. 

I slept most of the way, while Adam listened to music, slept and poor John drove.  But he even admitted that he loved the quiet meditative environment of driving in silence. 

We met up with our church peeps when we got there.  It was windy, cold and amazing!  The topic was the Holy Spirit!  Loved it.  We had many wonderful speakers that challenged our thinking.  The worship time was brilliant.  We lifted up voices and hearts in beautiful songs, surrounded by beautiful people lifting up their praises to God.  Several times, I just stopped singing and listened to all the voices around me.  At one point, I noticed Adam worshiping and it melted my heart to see my child worshiping his God without shame!  

Many of the things I've been learning in my oblate journey were confirmed at this conference.  It just goes to show that when you are on the right path, God will flash up signs to keep you going.  Thank you Jesus. And of course, when we are on the wrong path, I also believe He also flashes up signs to steer us in another direction. 

I'm at a point in my own journey, where silence and listening are so deeply needed in my soul.  Silence seems to be my soul food.  I received time for that this weekend.  I believe our world needs, thirsts and hungers for the peace, comfort and joy that come from quiet rest in Jesus. 

Thank you sweet, beloved God for allowing me to receive so many blessings this weekend. 

Not yet....

My last post was in July.  That seems like years ago. I didn't realize it had been that long until this morning.  Every time I decided it was time to write something, a little voice said "Not yet."

Because I've become quite fond of listening to that little voice, I said "OK, I'll wait."  And so I've waited, waited and waited.  God is faithful to provide the guidance we need, if we are willing to listen.  At this point in my life, I'm more than willing to listen.  I'm starved for whatever He has to say.

This morning I thought about writing a post and I just received a spirit of peace around me.  I guess that's my "Go ahead" sign.  So here I am, almost 6 months later.  Hi y'all!

It's been a rough, long 6 months.  Grief is not for sissies.  Some days it has felt like the air was literally being sucked out of my lungs.  It is physically, emotionally and spiritually bruising. But a wise, grief experienced friend encouraged me to walk through the grief and not try to avoid it.  I'm so glad I have listened to her.  I allowed my body, mind and spirit to feel the depth of the pain.  I owned it and made it mine.  As a result, I've been able to "little by little" let it go. And in doing so, the rawness is healing. It's still there, but I've learned where to put the pain and release the ugliness of it. 

I've spent a lot of time in the past few months trying to avoid thinking about what is best for others in this process and realize that before I can help someone else, I have to help me.  That seems selfish and contradictory to what I've always tried to do.  But, consider what they tell you when you are on an airplane.  When the oxygen masks are deployed from the ceiling, you are instructed to put yours on first.  THEN, you can help others with theirs.  It's a gut wrenching lesson.  If I'm not well, I can't help others feel well.  As a woman and a mother, my natural instinct is to be watchful of others.  This time I've had to be watchful of me.

In my journey to focus on my own heart's healing, lots of things have taken place.  I've spent more time in prayer and reading the word.  I find myself much more quiet on the inside and outside. I watch less and less television.  I read more.  Things that normally would have been a major focus of life, haven't been.

For instance, football.  My team didn't do well this season.  That normally would have really gotten stuck in my teeth.  This year, I found I went to sleep during a large majority of the games.  I didn't feel defeated personally when my team lost.  I just felt like my team lost. No big deal.

We had a very upsetting experience within our family and instead of it making me blow up.  I was able to rationally, calmly consider the situation and then move forward without losing my mind.  For those who know me, that is HUGE.

I didn't decorate a Christmas tree this year.  Didn't even put one up.  That is also HUGE.  I've had up to 12 trees in my house for Christmas.  I have been blessed with an enormous ornament collection. This year, along with the fact that my heart was grieving over the 1st Christmas without my friend, I also haven't felt well.  I did eventually  put up a few decorations to give us a wee bit of Christmas about the house, but I mostly focused on the ADVENT season.  Next year I foresee putting all the decorations out again, but for this year, God intended for me to focus just on Him for a season.

I've spent more time at my monastery.  In fact in October, I became an oblate of Sacred Heart Monastery.  I have learned most people don't know what that is.  And some are even a wee bit afraid of it.  So, here is my attempt at a  Reader's Digest type Explanation.

An oblate is someone who feels a strong calling for prayer.  It's not just something they know they should do.  Instead it is something they are driven to do.  An oblate feels a strong connection to a particular monastery.  For me, that monastery is Sacred Heart.  I have felt a commitment to prayer that supersedes anything I've felt before.  It's kind of like the different levels of a relationship.  When you decide to date just one person, you feel a commitment.  But if that commitment deepens, you become engaged.  If it moves even deeper, you become married.  For me, being an oblate feels like the jump between being engaged and being married.  I'm far more committed to the scriptures and listening to God than I've ever been in my life. I have much to learn and I'm an eager student.

The sisters at Sacred Heart bring me such joy.  I love walking in the door and having them call me by name.  It feels like coming home. I love the thought that each and every day I pray for them and they are praying for me.  I love that we are all praying at the same time.  I love that we are all reading the Psalms and other scriptures on the same schedule.  I absolutely adore the sights, smells and environment of peace that the monastery brings me.

I find that I absolutely get hungry for being there.   And if something stands in my way and it takes me longer to be able to go there, then my spiritual self begins to starve for it.  I know that sounds extreme, but it's so true for me.  I have tasted and seen the Lord is good in a beautiful, refreshing way and I want more!

I feel quite certain that God brought me down this path to prepare me for my grief journey.  No death has ever affected me like Angie's.  I've never lost someone that I've spent so much time with on a moment by moment basis.  Our lives were entangled like a creeping vine.  We were wrapped up in each others lives on many levels and in many places.  So, the loss is deep and wide.  I think of going to Target, so I think of her.  I think of going to a ballgame, so I think of her.  I think of going to the doctor, so I think of her.  I see objects she personally bought for me, so I think of her.  I sing, so I think of her.  I go to the monastery, so I think of her.  I go to the grocery store, so I think of her.  I purchase really comfy shoes, so I think of her.  I find an outfit or recipe that I like, so I think of sharing it with her.  I go to a movie, so I think of asking her to go.  I go to a great restaurant, so I want to invite her.  I desire a girl's day out, so I want to call her.  I see two friends laughing together, so I think of her.  It's not like I'm reminded of her sometimes....I'm reminded of her 100s of times a day.

God knew my loss would be great.  He is greater. 

Had it not been the Lord who was on my side,  the anger of the enemy would have surely taken me.  Please listen to this song.  It is me and where I am.


 I have much joy to share and write.  I hope it will benefit someone.  God is good.