10-4

02/16/1942 - 10/04/2012

The life my dad lived wasn’t measured in years.  Though his obituary lists his dates of birth and death, his life reaches beyond those 70 years.  I’m still finding moments of tears and frustration when I go to ask his advice or I’m reminded of him at random and he’s no longer here with us on this great big planet. 

He’s no longer here to crack funny jokes, or tell me I’m the sweetest, or to encourage me.  I had him in my life longer than I had my biological father.  He showed up when I was ten.  Proposed to my mom only after he asked our permission because he knew we were pretty protective of her.  He never stepped in my way of making mistakes, never caught me when I fell.  No, he wasn’t an enabler.  He was there to pick me up and dust me off.  He “told me so”, he told me why and why not, and he told me the truth. 

His jokes were never appropriate, but they sure made me laugh.  He had the brightest brown eyes that literally twinkled when he smiled, and though he was a big tall man his heart was even bigger.   He was patriotic and so proud of this country.  He never met a stranger, and he ALWAYS gave to others in need.  Many folks knew him as Santa, and he truly played the part.  We still have his suit to prove it. 

He was a barterer.  He traded a tank trailer (I think that’s what it was) for my first piano.  He knew my love for music, even though I learned by ear and never took it further than our living room foyer.  It’s one of the main reasons I love having a piano in my home today and likely always will.

He taught me to drive a manual shift on one of his big trucks, then helped me with my first car which was a 5-speed manual Subaru.  “Go do donuts, spin it out and learn how to handle it.” That’s what he told me to do at 15 years of age in the gravel lot of his trucking company.  I still drive a stick-shift today.  Oh, and I will never forget the day I ran my truck into the local sheriff’s mailbox.  Took it clean out of the ground with gravel flying everywhere, rutted the driveway and their yard, and left a trail of Nissan fender parts in their ditch.  It wasn’t my worst wreck, or last, but it was the one that brought my dad and I closer. 

He stood next to me staring at the chaos and said, “Sissi Worm (his nickname for me), you okay?” 

Me: “Yes sir.” 

Mr. Bob: “You’re telling your mom.” 

Me: *looking at my dad in panic* “You’re coming with me!”

Mr. Bob: “Maybe we’ll wait to tell her then…”

He understood my fear of not only disappointing my mom (AGAIN) with my driving, but figured being without my ride and pride was punishment enough for the moment.  We told her eventually.  Together, with my dad standing behind me (chicken), but we told her. 

He loved animals as much as I did and we often conspired to bring in strays when I worked at the vet clinic.  He surprised me one day at work with this ugly, dirty, beat up, short-legged, meat-head of a dog we named Dwayne McKenzie.  If you were a product of the 80’s then you know who Spud McKenzie was.  Well this dog was his redneck cousin.  This dog had a face like a road map and would’ve been put to sleep if it ended up in a shelter.  Instead, my dad convinced my mom to bring him to my work.  We cleaned him up, got him checked and cleared, and spent a fortune on heart worm treatment.  He was maybe 4-5 years old at the time and lived another 15.  Because of my dad this dusty old dog had a second life and was loved.  That’s what he did, he saw the best in other beings. 

I’m not even sorry to the rest of my siblings that moved on while I was the last to leave home, because I had the best years with him.  He just always made sure everything was okay. 

Now that life has gone on without him I find it ironic that he passed away on 10-4.  Those of you who know my profession and understand ten codes know what it stands for.  I woke up today not so 10-4 because of [insert every lame excuse here].  Then I looked at my calendar to check on a deadline and I saw what day it was.  10-4.  A constant reminder that even though we lost a huge part of our heart on this day years ago, everything is going to be okay. 

If any of you reading this are having a bad day, I hope you realize that everything really will be okay.  Maybe not like you want it to be, and certainly not without a lesson to learn from it, but have faith YOU WILL BE 10-4.  

Surviving With Faith

Did you ever think you’d be where you are, the person you are, at this age?  I didn’t.  Nope.  I for sure thought I’d be skinny, rich, and famous.  Okay, maybe not rich, or famous, but certainly skinny like I used to be in my 20’s.  I was fit.  Even at 7 months pregnant I was running 3 miles a day and donning a Marine Corps uniform with the best of them.  Four weeks postpartum I was back to full duty on the rifle range so I could qualify for promotions.  Yep, I was pretty fabulous back then.  Now?  NOT SO MUCH.  I’m feeling every ounce of pain from years of wear and tear on my body.  The Marine Corps was just the start.  Bad knee, bad shins, bad lower back, bad language, it caused it all. 

Move into the second phase of adulthood and I’m now overweight, over-stressed, and over everything that doesn’t involve making me happy.  Coffee makes me happy.  Chocolate…that makes me happy too.  My family makes me the happiest.  I don’t get paid to love my family, coffee, or chocolate though.  So I find ways to motivate myself for the daily grind. Writing is a huge part of this motivation, and I’ve since added working out because I’m in the 40s club and need to survive to my 50s.  That’s the main motivation for surviving this October fitness challenge I find myself in.  There’s one thing that keeps me focused on survival. 

You know what it is.  Faith.  That’s the main title in my blog, folks.  Faith.  It’s what this is all about.  Having faith.  I have some friends who are skeptical of God.  I know, right?! But it’s true.  I’m a gullible person who has faith in people to do good even though they “don’t believe in God.”  You know why?  Because regardless of their belief they have faith.  That’s right.  FAITH.  Faith in themselves, and in the greater good. They have faith in me. That’s pretty impressive for some folks who don’t believe in God to have faith in someone who does. They trust. They support. They love.  It’s amazing how separate ideals and beliefs have similar paths in faith. 

But when it comes to surviving with faith, what are we surviving?  In the end we all have the same result.  Not to be morbid, but we will all die when it’s our time.  Because of my faith I’m okay with that.  I’ve been at peace with my pending death since I gave my heart to Jesus and rectified some regrets.  I tell my loved ones I love them.  I thank God for what I have and don’t have every day.  It may be the last day to do so, so I make it count.  That’s part of why some of the changes in my career and personal life are happening.  It’s not my ideal change, its’ actually a very painful heart breaking change because I love what I do and I’m good at it.  But it’s a walk in faith that I’m willing to take in order to be a better healthier version of myself for my family and for our future. 

It’s part of the survival.   God doesn’t give us easy.  Easy is for non-believers who think they’re getting a good deal even though they’re settling for less.  Like fat pills that melt the double chocolate fudge brownie sundae off your thighs.  They may work…temporarily, but the results don’t last with fat pills alone.  God gives us challenges to grow, people to learn from, reasons to want to survive for better than just “a good deal”.  Like a consistent healthy lifestyle gives us the lasting results we want.  I’m a survivor.  I’ve survived a lot more than I should have in my adult life. It’s not about WHAT we survive or WHY.  It’s about the HOW.

You can ask yourself a lot of “how” questions and get a lot of different answers.  Mine: “HOW did I survive these things?  HOW does it help others?  HOW can I be a better person because of it? HOW-insert rhetorical question here-?”  Well duh….Faith.  

Along with my October Fitness Challenge that I've landed in, I'm putting myself through a FIT&FAITH challenge as well.  The rules are simple if you want to join my challenge.  

1. Say at least one positive thing a day to yourself, and to someone else, anyone.

2. Do your squats (10 a day x the day so tomorrow is day 3x10=30 squats)

3. Conduct one random act of kindness towards a stranger (like opening a door for them, etc.)

4. When in doubt, HAVE FAITH EVERYTHING WILL WORK OUT

#gottahavefaith #survivingmy40s #octoberchallenge  

Not For Sale

“My personal space is not for sale.”  I heard this while drinking coffee at one of my favorite writing spots.  The context in which it was stated made me snort laugh which elicited a collective “amen sister” from other patrons to the woman who said it to her now (assuming) ex-boyfriend.  The conversation in summary was the male half trying to rationalize why he should move in with her since he lost his job and got caught cheating on her.  I’m baffled by his audacity, but give him props for meeting her in public…probably knowing that conversation in private would likely have ended very badly for him. 

Context aside, the statement reminded me of a recent interaction I had that left me quite disappointed with some folks.  I let it bother me more than I should have.  Without rehashing the details, the lesson I learned from this is that my personal space, my personal happiness, beliefs, tolerance, understanding, all of these things are valuable…and not for sale. 

I forgive them.  It’s not in my nature to harbor a grudge against anyone.  That takes up too much time and energy.  My son suffered a friendship because of it, but even with hurt feelings he prayed for them.  This is the faith journey I’ve been on, learning from everyone and every experience.  Faith in humanity is the hardest for me because in my line of work I see people at their worst.  I don’t expect to see this in my personal life since I’m usually very careful of who I allow a seat at my table.   One ply faith, fold it, fold it again.  That’s my mantra.  Especially with people who are so quick to judge. 

To the girl in the coffee shop, to my son, to all of us who believe the best in people, don’t diminish your self-worth for others who don’t invest in your personal well-being and happiness.  If people in your life try to make you feel bad for standing up for yourself then they don’t belong in your personal space.  Evict them.  Normal people don’t go around destroying other human beings.  There’s a lot of irrational, dramatic, selfish, and otherwise crazy people in this world that we may have to share the planet with, but that doesn’t mean we allow them in our personal space.  It’s valuable real estate, not for rent, and certainly not for sale.   

Summary:

Know your worth. 

Don’t rent or sell your personal space, you're not an Air B&B.

Be kind.

Faith Forward

Change number 8,675,309.  We’re back to a hectic, never-see-each-other, no-time-for-sleep, back-to-a-common-core-school-day, homework-from-hell, work-plus-two-side-hustles, where-did-our-life-go, schedule.  God has placed some obstacles in our path to change our direction and point us to new opportunities.  Amazing opportunities.  The struggle isn’t the sacrifices we’re making or the obstacles we’re facing.  The struggle is my excuses.  The struggle is my patience.

I see myself making excuses (for myself and others) when I should be saying “Excuse me” to step around those excuses and keep my faith forward.  Faith forward is simple.  You let go, stop the procrastination from failing in the past, and you focus your faith ahead where your goals are.  Faith forward is freedom from worrying about WHEN or HOW changes will occur, and focusing on WHAT changes you WANT.  Faith forward is very similar to paying it forward, but for yourself.  Yep, be selfish in your faith.  I’ve said it before, you can have as much as you want.  Fill it up.  Let it overflow.  Share it if you want, but don’t feel guilty for having more than other people.  Their level faith shouldn’t determine yours.  

Patience requires an abundance of faith.  Whether it's a change in schedule, or in jobs, or just in a small daily habit to improve life, lack of patience can become a setback.  Our family is experiencing a lot of changes that require more faith than I do coffee on any given day after a 12 hour shift.  Yes….that much.  But you know what keeps my faith forward with these changes?  A ten year old little boy who said, “I can do this.” Our son’s motivation is proving that a common core failing school system can’t stop his success to get promoted mid-year or shake is faith in the works of Jesus.  Doing double the curriculum to get it done, he still paused to pray for his teacher when she wasn’t feeling well.  Some of you may not get “it”.  But “It’s” pretty awesome to see such an abundance of love and faith in the face of your own child. 

In everything we do for our kids, failure is a common feeling as parents when things don’t work out the way we planned.  Luckily we have two boys who remind us of our worth.  And we are worth so much more than what we give ourselves.  My hubs and I are working on doing better for all of us.  My patience, or lack of, doesn’t change the ‘when’.  No matter your faith, no matter your purpose, it’s God’s timing. 

Whether it’s patience, or excuses, or whatever your struggle, fill your cup and Faith Forward, my friends.

Intentional Life

I didn't intend for this to happen.  It just did.  I’m not an interesting person.  I drink coffee and paint chickens on my days off.  My house is chaos with three large dogs and three large boys (hubs, and Bam mostly, Ant on occasion).  I work 12-14 hour shifts on mid-nights, extra details or court cases wake me early, and home schooling our 5^th grader wakes me even earlier.  On my Sunday’s off I squeeze in six hours at the Farmer’s Market to sell my hobby.  My schedule is rotating week to week so my family’s schedule also rotates.  They accommodate me, and have been for nearly a decade, with my belief that I can save the world. 

Added stress of our financial responsibilities and family obligations, unexpected expenses, and a home in desperate need of an insect/squirrel/frog exorcism since the roof damage, has diverted my focus away from my purpose.  My faith is strong that everything will work out, the problem is that my faith has been in every-thing.  My faith should be in God and trusting that all God leads me through gets me to where He wants me in this big design of life.    

If you’ve read this far you’re probably still wondering what my purpose is.  You see, it’s not much different than anyone else’s purpose.  We are given one life.  And we are to live it.  The purpose of life is to live.  It’s that simple.  HOW we live is where it gets complicated. 

We’ve accepted the idea that we work until we can afford to retire, and then we enjoy the things we’ve worked all those years to do except we’re old by then and don’t get to do what we originally set out to do.  Make sense?  At the tender age of 40, I’ve got a good 25-30 years to add to my so-called retirement fund.  Looking at said fund I’ve concluded that we deserve better than what we’re giving ourselves. 

Hubs and I both have been so busy working for a living that we’ve postponed making a life.  Working multiple jobs, with little sleep, and no family time is not a life.  Stress, health issues, growing debt, and waning faith is not a life.  Paycheck to paycheck is not a life.  Here’s the thing though, I no longer feel guilty for wanting to make more money in order to provide for my family and help others.

Whomever read and misquoted, “Money is the root of all evil” from 1 Timothy 6:10 needs to stop and re-read the Bible.  Right now, go, read it!  Or Google it like I did because my Bible has tiny print that hurts my aging eyes.  The actual verse is, “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils.  It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs.” 

As a very wise person stated, “Our attitude toward money is the problem, not the money itself.  Money is morally neutral,” like most inanimate objects.  A knife is not evil.  A gun is not evil.  A plate full of chocolate covered chocolate with chocolate on top is not evil.  It’s what we, as basic stupid humans, do with those things that can make them evil.  

And there will always be some form of payment in this world for the things we require to live.  We give back and we pay it forward.  Period.  There’s a debt we will all pay and that debt is due the day we take our last breath.  No amount of money, or good deeds, or “Likes” on Facebook will pay your way into heaven.  The only way in is by God’s grace.  Yep, grace wins it.

There’s a lot of changes happening for our family right now with work, with health, with school, with future goals that are becoming very real and within reach.  With these changes come bittersweet decisions and much needed sacrifices.  We need to be intentional with what we do in order to get what we want. 

I intend to grow my faith in God, whom makes all things possible. 

I intend to grow my finances to pay off my debt and pay it forward. 

I intend to grow my health, to be strong and capable of protecting myself and others.

I intend to teach my son 5^th grade math no matter how dumb it makes me feel.

I intend to make a life and not just a living. 

#intentionallife #onpurpose #gracewins

Faith with Friends

Life. We get caught up in working for a living and forget to live.  Our bills pile up, our health declines, our kids have five thousand sports to attend, a million hours of homework each night, and of course our chores and errands to catch up on the two (if you’re lucky) days off that some call a “weekend”.  In this existence we call life there’s a few things that keep us connected.  Grounded.  Sane. 

One of those few things for me is my friends.  God has showered grace upon me to be surrounded by some pretty amazing people.  As writer I often forget that without these amazing people I probably wouldn’t even have any readers.  So if you’re reading this, if you’re inclined to keep reading…welcome, friend. 

When I have moments of “my life is chaos, I need a break” I have a very small circle of people that I trust with my chaos.  That small circle has made it through this faith journey with me that isn’t perfect.  It’s actually quite messy, often challenging, sometimes scary, and continuous.  Let me introduce you to someone in my small circle.  Her name is Ginger.  This is our Faith in Friendship story:

**First side note, we shooed the menfolk to get supper.  Pizza.  Easy, right?  It’s currently 7:34 p.m. 

Me: How long have you and I known each other?

Ginger:  I would say almost 15 years, because we’ve lived here 15 years and met you guys right after that. 

Me: What was your first memory of me?

Ginger: The first night we met, you literally pointed at me after we were talking all night and said to everyone, “She’s a keeper.” 

**Second side note-that wasn’t said in a Mean Girl voice.  I remember the night.  And to know me, you all know I’m very shy and don’t attach quickly to anyone unless I’m comfortable with them.  Ginger was definitely a keeper.**

Me:  What do you like to do when you have time?

Ginger: I like to go to the beach, journal in my planner, workout, sing, and dance.

Me: What’s your favorite workout? Song? And style of dance?

Ginger: Toss-up between P90X3 and 21Day Fix.  I’m a Beach Body girl.  My favorite song is “Girls like you” by Maroon 5.  My go-to workout music is ‘Everything’ by Megan Trainer.  If I’m working out I’m typing her name into YouTube for my jam.  And for dance, I like anything that has a good rhythm.  I can dance to anything, and prefer a variety. 

Me: Work.  What’s your career path been since moving to Florida?

Ginger: I left a job up north being a photographer, so when we got here I focused on my family for two years.  Then I enrolled in school for massage therapy in 2008.  It was 9 months, I graduated as one of the top students.  I went to Transformations Salon and Spa to get my hair done for graduation and met the owner.  While we talked during my hair appointment I told her I was graduating from massage school.  She asked me then and there if I wanted a job.  I studied for 4 weeks for my state test, passed, and started working there shortly after. 

**Third side note, husbands interrupt via text.  They’re still out getting us pizza and said it will be an hour.  It’s now 8:11. 

Back to the interview.

Me: Since we were interrupted by our spouses, tell me about yours.  How long have you and Joe known each other? 

Ginger: Twenty-six years.  We met when we were 17. 

Me: So, you guys are high-school sweethearts.  Been together basically twenty-five of the twenty-six years.  And how many kids do you have?

Ginger: 4 children.  Two boys, two girls,

Me: …and ton of unofficially adopted children.  Ever since we’ve known you guys, I’ve seen numerous friends of your kids find refuge here.  And your fridge. 

Ginger: *laughs*.  Yeah, we’ve taken in quite a few strays as our own. 

Me: Some of those kids have claimed you as their second parents.  What have you done differently in “raising” them versus your own children? 

Ginger:  I guess I put more restrictions on them, because they aren’t biologically mine.  I guess I expect more from them because we did take them in, and support them when we didn’t have to.    

Me: You’ve seen these kids through elementary school all the way to college age.  Do you think taking these kids in has set the example for your own kids?

Ginger:  Absolutely.  One hundred percent.  Even though they don’t see it at the time because of sacrifices they’ve had to make, it’s teaching them compassion. 

Me:  *smiling because I know how amazing and compassionate of a family they are* 

**We’re pausing for a Megan Trainer song that just came on….”My name is…no.”  Oh, and it’s now 8:43.  Not an hour, but still no pizza.

Okay, we’re back. 

Me: In raising sons I can relate to a lot of what you’ve gone through, but in raising daughters what has been the difference? 

Ginger: *sigh* the drama.  The mental stability that parents have to supply the daughters with is way beyond sons.  It’s exhausting.  To the point of when my phone goes off when I’m at work I start to panic because it’s going to be one of my daughters. 

Me:  To backtrack, how old are your kids? 

Ginger:  Oldest son is 24, next son is 21, oldest daughter is 17, and our youngest daughter is 13. 

Me: What’s been the most rewarding part of raising daughters?  Sons? 

Ginger:  Daughters—aside from always wanting girls, it would have to be that I see myself in them and they make me realize new things about myself.  Sons—knowing now that I had more of an impact on them than I thought.  The stuff I was worried didn’t ‘click’ in them to become young men, I’m now seeing it did.

Me:  Okay, so my blog is faith based and you’ve been one of my biggest supporters in just about everything I’ve done in life.  One of those being our belief in God almighty, though we’re not perfect you remind me often I’m a woman of faith.  What brought you to your faith? 

Ginger: Well, the foundation was always there.  But, my husband’s mother had a huge impact on me being saved. 

Me: How old were you when you were saved?

Ginger: I was twenty-three, new mom of two boys. 

Me: At that time was your husband saved? 

Ginger: No. 

Me: So how did that transpire?

Ginger:  Joe and I weren’t together.  We were separated, and I lived with his mom, but he’d come over on the weekends and spend time with the boys.  This one night he came over and we were all there and his mom and I were having a bible study.  This was the night I got saved.  We were going book to book, taking notes.  Joe worked early in the morning so he fell asleep and kept yelling out in his sleep, “No, stop! No stop!”  He used to talk in his sleep all the time.  That night while he was talking in his sleep, his mom and I were talking about him being toxic and suffocating me.  I specifically told her that he was squeezing the life out of me.  She started talking about serpents from the bible.  That’s what they do.  They squeeze you to death.  The next morning Joe came out and told us about the dream he had.  While grabbing his neck, he said that a serpent was chasing him and suffocating him.  I started going to church with his mom, and he realized in order to be a part of my life and our sons’ lives he needed Jesus.  That was the only way back to my heart. 

**9:24 p.m., the husbands are back with our pizza.  It was longer than an hour.  We’re used to it. 

Intermission to stuff our faces with yummy carbs…Aaaaand we’re back. 

Me:  From the time we met and became friends you guys were much further along in your faith journey than we were.  Well, further than my husband at least.  What do you remember about the early part of our friendship when the topic of conversation turned to religion? 

Ginger: I remember your husband being very unaccepting of faith, and Jesus.  There was a wall.  You were much more open, and didn’t disregard faith. 

Me: Over the course of our friendship we saw our families evolve in their faith to what we have now.  What’s the biggest change from where we started in our friendship and faith to where we are now?

Ginger: We now all go to church together.  Our beliefs were very different in the beginning and now of all people, your husband is dragging us all to church. 

Me: With a few years into our 40s, our kids starting to adult, our husbands saved, and a world of uncertainties ahead, what do you rely on to keep going every day? 

Ginger: God.

**And the interview is again interrupted, this time by the neighbor I so fondly call Cousin Eddie.  For those of you who catch the reference, the visual is very similar.  And yes…the s**tter is full. 

My take on our friendship is very similar to Ginger’s.  She and I have had numerous conversations over the years about our faith.  We’ve been through some dark times together, some brighter days, some “OMG why did we have kids” moments, and a lot of “Thank God we have each other” memories.  As one of the few in my small circle of friends, Ginger has been a constant.  I love you, Ginger.  Thank you for being my faithful friend. 

At Risk

This is for my School Resource Officers, my teacher friends, my school administrators, my involved parents, my kids.  This is for everyone who is affected by going “back to school”. 

I’ve had a very eye opening experience in a recent assignment that allowed me to work with at-risk-youth.  In this assignment not only did I have the perspective of law enforcement, but also of teacher, and administrator/liaison between the school board and the parents.  When I look back at the position that was in a very new and raw program I wasn’t prepared for the lessons I learned.  They weren’t all good.  And I wasn’t the best person for that position, only I was the one who realized it, not my supervisors or the school admins or anyone else. 

When I look back at the purpose of the program, it wasn’t a punishment for the ‘bad kids’, it was a support system and redirect for the forgotten ones.  The definition of “at-risk” in the dictionary is divided into “at” and “risk”.  “At” meaning a point of, and “risk” meaning the hazard or chance of loss.  That’s not exclusive to the kids assigned to the program.  Sadly, it defines every single one of our youth attending any school.  Yes, even my own son who is now home-schooled. 

“At-risk” doesn’t just pertain to the ones who act out in class, or skip school, or have failing grades.  It includes the popular kids, the athletes, the smart kids who already have college degrees by the time they hit senior year.  All of our kids are exposed to the same learning material, the same teachers, the same administrators, the same law enforcement school resource officers.  Our kids are at risk, or at a point of loss, if we don’t see this opportunity to change the risk. 

They should be at risk.  At risk of finding a mentor, a person who can make a difference in their lives.  They should be at risk of getting an education that will help them become productive members of society and not just able to pass a standard test.  They should be at risk of having a positive view of law enforcement in spite of the negative media portrayal we receive.  They should be at risk of being successful.  They’re all at risk of becoming the next generation of School Resource Officers, teachers, school administrators, and involved parents.  It’s up to us to show them that it’s a risk worth taking. 

  

As law enforcement we’ve all heard parents tell their kids we’d arrest them if they didn’t behave, or refuse to eat their peas, or whatever the stupid reason.  In the previous role I filled as an instructor for this program, I heard too many parents (and even teachers!) use me as leverage to make the kids behave.  Like I was the punisher if they didn’t comply.  When I sat with the kids one-on-one to talk they soon realized I wasn’t the punisher, I was the protector.  I didn’t allow their behavior to continue, nor did allow excuses, however I did allow freedom of speech without persecution.  I allowed that “safe place”, just not in the liberal sense of “you hurt my feelings”, but the safe place for them to be honest and express their frustration and anger before taking it out on the wrong person or sealing their fate with expulsion.

We lost a few to street violence, then there was one who went on to graduate with a B average and sober!  Yet six months earlier he was on felony probation and the verge of incarceration as an adult for his crimes.  As cheesy as it sounds he found Jesus.  A much forgotten ingredient in our education system, yet it was the one ingredient that saved this young man’s life and future.  

As adults we aren’t very good at listening to understand.  We listen to respond, especially when it comes to dealing with kids.  This is our fault.  We blame society, but HELLLOOOOO, we make up society.  There’s a few, a very select few, who listen to understand and can effectively communicate a better way for our youth.  The few kids we worked with had a redirect, an opportunity to change their perspective.  All it took was the right SRO/teacher/school admin/parent to listen.    

My only regret with stepping away from the program is not being able to see the kids every day to reassure them that they are worth it.  That regret was nothing compared to the sacrifice I made for a job/schedule that literally replaces me the second I go on annual leave and will fill my very expendable position if I resign or die.  No hard feelings, it’s just the nature of the beast in my line of work.  Instead of staying in the program or taking another assignment at a desk job I decided to go back to patrol and work midnight shift so we could home-school our 5^th grader.  This decision came after some of those ‘hard lessons’ I learned from kids in the program as well as some changes with our family.  I decided being present for my son was more important than being what I deemed as successful in my career at the cost of someone else raising him. 

**Disclaimer, I AM NOT A STAY AT HOME MOM!  God bless the men and women who can do that and maintain their sanity.  I work full-time, even have selfish hobbies that allow “me time”.  I’m just learning how I can be a more involved/present parent.  Not everyone is granted this blessing, and I’m running with it full speed while I have it.   Someday I’ll share those hard lessons.  For now, all of my SRO’s, teachers, admins, parents, and kids, be “at-risk” and make it worth it.  Have an awesome school year!   

On Purpose

“We won’t be distracted by comparison if we are captivated with purpose.”  - Bob Goff

This quote has popped up numerous times this past week.  If you know me, you know I don’t believe in coincidence.  We’re guided in this world by many things, be it work, family, religion, money, bad decisions disguised as good ideas, tragedies, education, love, etc.  These are a few I’ve been guided by personally.  Not proud of some of them, but thankful for the experiences because it’s led me to where (and who) I am today. 

I can be better.  Much better.  The focus I’ve had in my family has grown and now sits in front of my career, where it rightfully belongs.  My personal goals have changed.  They evolved from my “can be better” when I was comparing myself to others.   

In my career I’ve followed the process, ever changing as it has been, to advance in my field which I still have decisions to make on the direction I want to go.  I’ve learned my limits, not what others limited me to.

In my finances I’ve failed miserably.  The excuses I’ve made for not saving enough, or making enough, or being able to pay down debt are just that…excuses.  I’m on the right track with a lot of learning to get my finances healthy again. 

In my hobby and passion for creating artwork I’ve been a crap entrepreneur.  I always tell people who say I don’t charge enough for my paintings that if I were a hooker I’d starve because I just can’t sell myself (that’s one profession momma didn’t have to worry about me pursuing!).

In my personal life I’ve become much better as a wife and mom, daughter and sister (to one of my siblings who has social media and likes to read at least), and a friend.  I’m getting over my anxiety/distrust of humanity and learning how to balance being an introvert in a very alpha society. 

Have you ever played a game where the rules kept changing in the middle of it?  Well that’s life.  And in life if we’re distracted by comparison of where we think we should be in family/work/etc., then we’re never going to fulfill our purpose.  Everyone’s purpose is different.  The path to get there, the rules to play by, and the people involved.  All different.  Mine is no better than anyone else’s.  It’s a greater purpose than I’ve been able to accept for myself, but I have 'one-ply-folded' faith that I’m headed in the right direction. 

When we take responsibility for our success and failures and stop comparing them to others, we’ll be one step further along our path to our purpose.  I have a daydream that won’t mute.  I’m going to follow up with a plan to make it a reality.  That’s my next step.  What’s yours? 

Unicorns Need Not Apply

In the wee morning hours when I come home from shift I get a little bit of “down” time.  This is when I (A) sleep, (B) write, (C) paint, (D) look for freelance writing jobs to help build our financial one-ply into six figures.  I left a well-paying job to become a law enforcement officer naively believing I'd save the world from one bad guy at a time.  I quickly realized that so-called bad guys multiply faster than good guys do so it takes a few days at a time to save the world from them, and we don’t get a commission. 

Could you imagine how quickly the streets of your hometown would get cleaned up if cops worked on commission?!  It’s laughable because it’s logical.  If law enforcement worked at a base salary like a salesman and earned commissions for each arrest they made, and doubled that commission for each conviction from the case they arrested the buy guy on, there’d be an even bigger pile up in the system than the lawyers and judges could handle. 

For corrections officers, if they successfully ‘rehabilitate’ an offender, each year they stay clean/sober/out of jail is a royalty check.  Then once you reach a certain rank your top year of commissions is now your base pay.  Law Enforcement would become a glamorous, high-paying, celebrity job. 

But it’s not glamorous.  It’s not high-paying.  There’s barely even a celebrity who supports law enforcement.  It’s become a villainized profession, more so than dentists.  But there's a few, a select few, who continue to put on the kevlar and badges to protect the sheep from the wolves.  It's not about pay, or recognition, and certainly not about the number of bad guys we put away (though that makes it fun).  It's about family, and the friends you make, the people you actually help though fewer than I'd like, and about the sense of pride in being a good guy fighting evil.  Yes, we all have a hero complex, and thankfully so since the world needs more heroes.  

Unfortunately hero work doesn't pay all of the bills.  In my quest to earn extra money I'm a member of various freelance writing sites that employers will skim for applicants.  I received this job posting from an interested employer: (cropped for your reading convenience)

The qualifications require you to be a unicorn.  Not a literal unicorn, obviously,…I don’t think…but figuratively, a unicorn in the job field.  In this particular case, a business savvy marketing genius who has the writing skills and work stamina equal to a majestic horned equine that can pull in large sums of money for a start-up company.  

The additional qualifications for social services background (check), social media knowledge (check), bachelor’s degree (check), workforce development experience (check), demonstrate creativity (CHECK! Hellooooo), blogging (seriously, check), etc.  I’m 90% of these qualifications.  The one thing I am not is a unicorn. 

In my day job (night shift to be exact), unicorns don’t exist.  We’re crass, unfiltered, detached beings whose faith in humanity is held on by a sliver of rusted rebar that could snap at any minute.  There’d be a “No Unicorns Allowed” sign on our clubhouse.   I’m pretty sure the entirety of my squad would agree with commissioned based salary since they thrive on pushing our supervisors’ buttons and making arrests in the last thirty minutes of shift. 

As much as I enjoy writing, and appreciate the side-gig opportunity, I’ll have to pass on this one.  Not just because of the unicorn requirement, but it's a full-time gig with more hours than I can spare from my sleep or my day job.  The search continues and if the qualifications state “Unicorns Need Not Apply” then I know I’ve found it.   

Someday

I shared this with friends a few months ago and it’s stuck with me.  Every day I look at this gift, this simple handcrafted gift that a very sweet woman gave me. 

On most Sundays I attend a farmer’s market where local people bring their goodies to sell.  It ranges from fresh produce and plants, to cakes and pies, and all sorts of crafts.  I have a slightly expensive hobby of painting and sculpting so I sell my artwork at this farmer’s market.  One day a sweet lady, Ms. J. Harper, stopped by and chatted about her own beautiful artwork.  She painted flowers.  Beautiful, colorful flowers.  I regret now not asking to buy one of her paintings, however I do have this…this little burlap bottle cap heart.

Facebook Post from April 2018:

"Ms. Harper asked if I would use some of her craft supplies so she wouldn't have to throw them away.  You see, she's 81 years old and today she told me she had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  She was very candid about it, not wanting to dwell on what's to come of her health since she feels fine at the moment.  She's refusing the offered treatments due to her age and not wanting to kill herself with chemo faster than the cancer would.  Feisty old gal had a valid point. She's downsizing the clutter in her life to travel with her husband for the remaining years, or months, they have together. She said too many 'somedays' have become 'too lates' or 'nevers'. I asked her to keep me posted on their travels and to please let me know when they return so we can catch up before...well. Her reply, "Sis, I'll die of old age before I die of cancer. I'm just finally living my 'someday'."

I sent her a text message and asked how she was doing.  I sent her a picture of the framed heart and what I want to put on the front of it.

 

Fast forward to July 2018, as of today I’ve received no reply.   Being in the profession I’m in, worst case scenario popped into my head, then I had to shush myself from the negative.  I have quite a few friends, young and old, who have survived cancer treatments or they make it a part of their daily health to stay strong without treatment.  Ms. Harper wanted to live out her “someday”, as long or short as it may be, doing what she loved.  She’s gone, on her adventure with her husband, or on a greater adventure with the Lord.

A little old lady’s situation made such an impact on me that I’m changing my life to live it today and not wait for retirement, or when the kids get older, or when my Hubs can take time off.  The little burlap heart is an affirmation to live, not someday, but every day, live.  Live in God’s grace, find your purpose, and make a difference in your own life so you can make a difference in others’. 

What’s your someday?