No, public, I did not crap my pants.

Yesterday morning was no good.  That's really the best way I can describe it.  I am not a morning person.  In fact, I dream a world that is absolutely silent until noon.  I long for days when I have teenagers that sleep until 1 p.m. on a Saturday.  And if they don't, I have no reservations regarding cash incentives.  

So, yesterday morning started out with the usual demands and/or somewhat annoying proclamations:

I want waffles.

I don't like cereal.

I want more waffles.

My teacher says I need to eat a bigger breakfast.

I can't find my shoes.

I left Batman outside, I need to find him now.

My diaper is wet.  I can't like underwears.

My dress not twirl big enough.

Today's my field trip, I need a sack lunch.  I HAVE to have a disposable water bottle.

I can't find my glasses.  I think I left them in the yard.  Nope.  Here they are.  

And then it was 6:05 a.m.  It was a morning where I felt like no one was listening to me, the scale tipped up yet another number, and the walls of my house seemed to have moved in another 10 feet as the disarray of half-packed boxes continue to mock me.  

I pictured McDonald's in my mind.  I pictured the drive-through, I pictured me ignoring the annoying lady at the first window who can't help but to scream "Good Morning, Beautiful!", and I pictured myself driving up to the second window retrieving the breakfast burrito that my mind was lusting for.  

But, no.  I told myself "no".  I've been doing an awesome job with juicing in the morning.  I wasn't going to make a choice I knew was only a reaction to my stress, I was going to continue on with the pattern that I was beginning to not only enjoy, but crave.  So I made myself cut my apples, broccoli, kale, grapefruit and I juiced it all up for my morning boost.  I then did my ritual of putting ice in it and setting it aside to cool while I cleaned my juicer and loaded my dishwasher.  The blade-cup in my juicer was a little stuck and so I tried to pry it out.  I then watched as my juicer slipped out of my hands, knocking my 24 oz cup of green juice all over my counter.  All.  Over. Green down my white cabinets.  Green inside the dishwasher.  A thick puddle covering the counter tops and the floor.  What was only 24 oz seemed to have multiplied into a gallon.  

My daughter watched the whole thing.  I'm pretttttty sure I didn't drop any words beginning with the letter "f" or "s", but I was clearly upset.  Aubri asked, "Are you happy, Mom?" and in my low-I-must-be-on-the-verge-of-insanity voice I replied.  "No.  Mommy.  Is.  Sad.".  She could sense the tension in the air and her 3-year old body slinked backwards into the living room to watch one of her cartoons. 

I then went through an entire roll of paper towels wiping down my kitchen.  When it was nearly clean Aubri came back and offered the only consolation she thought was guaranteed and scientifically proven:  "Mommy, do you want a band-aid?".  

Later on in the morning, I was feeling better.  I avoided McDonald's and settled on a baggie full of grapes while I taxied the kids around to their respective stomping grounds.  I was going to have a few hours to myself that day, and I was looking forward to going to Books A Million to get lost in the shelves of facts and adventures that have always offered me comfort.  

I got out of my van and started trodding into the store when I looked down at my leg.  I was wearing capri pants and thick line of dried, dark green juice ran from the bottom of my capris to the top of my shoes.  I began to highly doubt that the average shopper wondered if that was home-made juice that I had spilled and was appearing to literally run out of my pants.  

Sigh.  That was the cherry on top of my morning.  And no, public, I did not crap my pants.  

I scraped what I could off and went into the bookstore anyway.  

Where my heart is today.

Often times, before I post something I have a general sense of the path that my post will take.  I know the overall shape my writing will take, what my goal (no matter how shallow or stretched it may seem) is.  So I'd like to say up front that I really don't know what shape this will take.....so we shall see....

Last January I woke up on a Saturday morning in the Hotel Julien in Dubuque, Iowa with a sense of peace in my heart that knew could only come from God.  I had sensed the day before that I felt "right" on the Loras College campus, and the feeling I had when I woke up in the morning only confirmed the previous day's "huntch".  I knew when I woke up that Saturday that if Loras offered me a job that I would take it.  In fact, after I was offered the job I was so confident in my decision that I called another college and cancelled an interview that I had scheduled with them.  I knew that it would be a waste of my time.  I knew my decision was the right one.  

The months following made it clear that my decision was making sense.  Michael easily found a job.  We easily found a comfortable place to rent, in an area of town that we can feel "at home" in, and childcare fell in place in a matter of two phone calls.  I know that God opens doors.  But I felt like in this case he's bulldozed an entire wall and paved a way in.  

And sometimes I question why.  It was already amazing that He blessed me so quickly with a job.  The cherry on top was that Michael found a job quickly as well.  But all of the other details?  Why so gracious?  I've been racking my mind for answers over and over these past few weeks.  Why?  Why is this happening so easily?  

My knee jerk reaction was that perhaps He has big plans for me at Loras and he's paving the way for me to fulfill those plans.  But then I got out of my own selfish head and realized it might not be me at all.  Perhaps it's Michael, or our role at our new church.  Or perhaps it's one of our children.  Perhaps they are meant to experience something in Dubuque that molds them into His plan.  Or maybe all of the above.  Or maybe I'm over thinking this and maybe He is a loving and gracious God that has been showing me this whole time that He's got my back if I just relax and let Him.  It's all so much to take in.  

And I know in my heart of hearts that we are doing what we should be doing.  And the doors to Dubuque couldn't be wider.  

So why do I hurt so badly sometimes thinking about leaving?  Why do I feel so much pain when I say good-bye to my friends?  And why do I build up walls around me hoping that if some of them feel less of a connection with me, then perhaps the goodbye will be easier.  Why do I feel homesick and I haven't even left?

I'm finding comfort into digging into my "new life".  I order travel brochures for NE Iowa, Wisconsin, and Illinois.  I've tattooed the Loras website in my brain so that it feels like home.  I've signed the children up for sports and activities over the summer to jump us into our new community.  I haven't made sense of my information digging obsession, but I know it makes me feel safe.

I also find comfort in remembering that one of the cherished years in my marriage was when Michael and I moved to Joplin for year.  We didn't know anyone.  We didn't know the town.  And by the year's end we made friends that still warm my heart when I think of their generosity, compassion, humor.....lives that touched us that wouldn't have if we hadn't taken the risk. 

That's just where I'm going to have leave this blog tonight.  Ending it on the confusion that I feel like I face daily.  Waves of sadness. Waves of excitement.  Waves of mourning and waves of exhilaration.  All wrapped into a whirlwind of possibility.