Still Standing

walking,stumbling on these shadowfeet
toward home,a land that i've never seen
i am changing: less and less asleep
made of different stuff than when i began
and i have sensed it all along
fast approaching is the day

when the world has fallen out from under me
i'll be found in you, still standing
when the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
when time and space are through
i'll be found in you

theres distraction buzzing in my head
saying in the shadows it's easier to stay
but I've heard rumours of true reality
whispers of a well-lit way

you make all things new

when the world has fallen out from under me
i'll be found in you, still standing
every fear and accusation under my feet
when time and space are through
I'll be found in you

Will the Real Teresa Please Stand Up

So, I have begun my path on the road to recovery. To claw myself out of the depths of post-partum depression back to (hopefully) feeling like myself again. And as I say and think those words, I wonder, "What does that even mean?" The last time I remember feeling like myself was when I had no human being to rely on me to do that little task of sustaining their life. (I hope you're sensing the tone, cause there is one).

Who will emerge when the dust of hormones settle? What are the parts of me that I will choose to leave behind because they no longer fit as my new role as "mommy"? What will I keep? What will I hold onto, refusing to let go, kicking and screaming as God continues to refine me? And why does this refining process have to be so freaking painful?!?! Why can't refining be a comforting process that feels like getting a foot massage? Or as satisfying as eating toaster strudel? (which I'm officially off of, btw).


I knew that becoming a mom wouldn't be a walk in a field of daisies along calm streams and toaster strudel waiting for me at the end of the path (*sigh*), but I didn't expect the identity crisis.

More of Derek

Why? Cuz he's that awesome! I've accepted my role as a mommy blogger.

Wordless Wednesdays

I just really want to show off my husband's awesomeness...

Penn State Nittany Lion pride

Incognito

Showing off his manliness!

Just stinking AWESOME!

The Two Biggest Blessings of My Life

Paul and I were married for 4 years before Derek came along. And I just couldn't imagine life getting any better. How could it??? My husband was the man of my dreams. Dreams I didn't even know I had until God showed me what dreams really were. He far exceeded my expectations in what I thought I would ever find, want or deserve in a spouse. Then came my son. And God just keeps exceeding my expectations, one right after another.

Go Yanks!!

Everyone - meet the Yankees new 'Rookie of the Year'.

He's being mentored by his namesake - Derek Jeter

Tomboys of the World - UNITE!

My good friend Josh, over at Booyah Achieved, posted a blog about some of of his pet peeves. One being about girls who say they get along better with boys, which received a kudos response. I felt the need to respond for all those gals who genuinely do feel that they get along better with the fellas. For I, Teresa, am one of those girls. Let's get some background.

I grew up with two brothers, one who is 18 months younger than me, and he was my best friend. And although I loved to play with my barbie dolls, it was much more fun to play matchbox cars with my brother. I had a few girlfriends in the apartment complex we lived in, but my brother and I were inseparable and we played army men and GI Joe with the best of them!

Moving onto elementary and middle school, I was so dang small, I was a magnet for bullies. The people that bullied me the most... girls. They were so mean to me and the people that came to my defense... boys. The girls on my block were so cruel, to me and to each other. They gossiped about each other, talked behind each other's back, would give one another a best friend's necklace and then take it back and give it to someone else. It was brutal! And I hated it. I gravitated to the guys on my block who were riding go-carts down the street, playing hide-and-go seek at midnight and ghost in the graveyard. The other girls would just hang out with the boys to try to make-out with them. This annoyed me a great deal. They were distracting from all the fun that was going on! Which made them bully me even more. My middle school years were awful. Except for the guy friends I had. They were great and I will always remember them fondly.

By highschool, my penchant for hanging with the boyz was set. Girls were catty and gossipy and were more apt to stab you in the back than my guy friends who were too busy playing computer games to care about talking about me behind my back. The few girls I hung out with were ladies just like me. We were a few gals in a large group of guys. I rarely ever wore makeup, I hated going clothes shopping and more than likely transformed my brothers' clothes into stuff I could wear. I ran with the boyz and generally got into the same kind of trouble that they did. Of course, this had its pros and cons. But for once in my life, I had friends that I could rely on and trust. And I loved it.

As I've gotten older, this has tempered off more. The women I have in my life aren't like the girls I knew in highschool. Maturity does a wonderful thing, on both sides. I finally see the need to have women to confide in, for things that men just don't understand. But my trust factor towards females is small from the real hurt I faced in my childhood. To this day, I choose my female friends very carefully, especially the ones I choose to have in my confidence. I am grateful for each woman that God has placed in my life. And I still keep in touch with those girlfriends that ran with the boyz along side me.

Also, my husband loves my tomboy side. He appreciates my simplicity of life. I still don't like clothes shopping so I never rack up credit card bills. I go to all sorts of sports events with him and even watch with him at home. However, I do put a little more effort into my hair and makeup. There are those girly things I do regret I didn't catch onto sooner.

That's me, a tomboy.

Wordless Wednesday

I got this idea from The Bloggess' other blog Good Mom Bad Mom. Pix instead of words on Wednesdays. So, here tis:

Mark Thomas introduced me to I Can Has Cheezburger. I dig it big time. This one is for you Mark.

see more crazy cat pics

From there I found I Has a Hotdog. Blogrolled!

see more cute dogs and puppies

And of course, I can't have wordless Wednesdays without Derek.

Thank you and goodnight!

A New and Informative Blog!

My good friend, Krista Ingram, has a blog!!!! Krista has not only been a good friend for the past several years, but also our realtor. So, if you're looking into purchasing or selling a home or just interested in the current housing market, check her out!

For her blog go here.

For her website go here.

P.S. When I say check her out, I only mean her website and/or blog. She's married, fellas, to my boss. Who, coincidentally, has a blog that you can find here.

P.P.S. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "What a suck-up. Promoting her boss' wife's website in order to gain some sort of promotion in her own job. Brown-noser!" That is unequivocally untrue!! I am greatly offended by you for thinking such things about me! I would never... hey, wait a second... now that I think about what you're thinking about, I guess it couldn't hurt...

I Not Feeling So Good Today

I Haven't Lost Any Weight While Writing This Post

I've been struggling with my weight since having a baby. There, I've said it. I've been really meditating on this since reading Kelli's blog, which is some really good food for thought, pun intended.

Back when I was pregnant, my doctor would say to me, "Be careful about your weight gain because the more you gain the more you'll have to lose." As I responded to her with a simple, "Okay," I was really thinking, "Don't bother me with your 'logic', lady. Your logic really interferes with my desire to eat a Whopper the minute I leave this office."

Today Paul dragged me I went with Paul to the gym. Even though I know that working out takes time, I was quite disappointed when the fat hadn't melted off my legs after 30 minutes on the lateral bike and my arms weren't chiseled after 30 minutes of lifting weights. As I walked out to the car, there was this magazine with a large headline, "Getting back to your pre-baby body." I immediately grabbed that magazine and opened the page to the article and was just as quickly disappointed to find such sensible headings such as, "Diet and Exercise" "Give it Time" and "Eat Breakfast and Break out That Blender."

I realized something about myself. Every time I see one of those articles, I pick it up hoping for some magic cure to losing weight. I probably know what it's going to say, but I fool myself every time thinking that maybe it will say something different that will cost me very little money and effort, and I emphasize the effort part. Here's what I don't want to do: I don't want to give it time, I don't want to stop eating strawberry toaster strudel, I don't want to exercise 3-5 times a week, and I certainly don't want to break out my blender. I also don't want to lose weight by dangerous surgery or taking some weird pill. I'm that person who is hoping for some magic lose-weight cure-all that won't hurt my body but the pounds will just melt away. -sigh-

So, it's back to the gym. Hello sensibility, bye-bye toaster strudel (o, how I've loved thee). Hello sweat, good-bye sitting around on my butt. I will set my sights to eating healthier (maybe gluten-free again since that's what I should be doing), working out more and dreaming of foods I really shouldn't eat. However, I still refuse to break out my blender. That's just silly.

Fragile And Feeling It

I'm singing at a friend's funeral tomorrow. He died of cancer. I sang at another friend's funeral almost 4 years ago to the day who also died of complications relating to cancer. I sang at a 2-year old girl's funeral back in 2002 who died of a brain tumor. And I have to say that tonight, I'm angry. I'm angry at this disease that takes people that are much too young to leave this world. I'm angry at dying young. I'm angry at cancer. To be honest, I'm a little angry at God. Not in a relationship shaking way, but in a very honest, "Why?" kind of way.

Cancer touches all of us in so many ways. Everyone knows someone who has gone through treatment, on remission, fighting it or passed on. And I think that I'm mourning tonight for all of the ways it has effected me and my family and my friends.

In some way, the death of a loved one is always a reminder to live. And I always regret that it takes someone's passing to remind me how very precious and fragile the life we live is. I know that I should listen to my spirit that says that death is the ultimate healing, the ultimate victory. Where is that line between holding onto my faith and being honest about what I feel? I know that we are not creatures led by our emotions, but God created them within us for a reason.

So tonight, I give these emotions to God and ask Him to help me through. I'm angry, sad, mournful and.... yes, I'll admit it, scared. I don't want to live my life in fear, but I am a little afraid. Afraid of a world I don't understand and the fragility that comes with it.

My Love-Hate Relationship With Thursdays

I've always loved Thursdays, my absolute favorite day. When I worked a normal Mon-Fri job, I loved them because they were the most hopeful day of the week to me. They weren't Fridays where you thought all day long about how you just wish the day was over so your weekend could start. But, Thursdays, you can still be productive and know that the week is almost over, the weekend is at hand, a light at the end of the tunnel. You're past hump day and on the final stretch. I think you catch my drift.

A few years ago I started working at my church and my work week became Sun-Thurs. So, now my love for Thursdays has mixed with the fact that it is now my last day of the week. AND it's rehearsal day for Sunday service. I get to end my week on a day I already loved doing something I love doing - music! There is so much to love about Thursday! As I'm typing this, I'm thinking to myself, "Am seriously blogging about Thursday??? Why, yes. Yes I am." And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Well, now wouldn't that make Thursdays like Fridays and now Wednesdays should receive that love that Thursdays have always had?" The answer to that is, "No." Wednesdays will never be to me what Thursdays are (sorry Wednesdays), and Thursdays will never be filled with anxious anticipation the way that Fridays are. I've obviously put a lot of thought into this.... which I'm now sort of ashamed about, and yet, slightly proud.

Okay, so now my son comes into the picture. And I love my son way more than I love Thursdays, which should go without saying, but I'm just saying. Since we have rehearsals on Thursday nights, I don't get home until after he's gone to sleep for the evening. For awhile there it was okay cause he was still doing middle of night feedings and I would still get to see him shortly after I got home from work. However, he's now sleeping totally through the night, which I'm very thankful for. I'm thankful that he sleeps through the night. Except for Thursdays. Now I hate Thursdays. Stupid Thursdays.

Derek Wants to Say Hey