To Be A Witness

I am struggling to keep my walls down. After going through an extended period of time, by the grace of God, of having no walls up, I've been stunned by how quickly I can put them back up. I am stunned by how quick my instinct is to shut people out when I feel threatened. How much easier it seems to be alone and in my cave than open and vulnerable.

After bemoaning the fact that this journey feels like too much hard work, I said something yesterday that gave Father Charlie the opportunity to tell me for the umpteenth time - the Truth shall set you free. Oh, vey. Can't you see me dancing for joy? Nope. Nada. Not this gal.

Friday I got pissy with dearest one. What started out as one small resentment lead to remembering plenty of deep seated ones. Ones I thought had been dealt with years ago. I could have been grateful that those resentments had been brought up to the surface where I could choose to deal with them. I wanted to be. Even at my AA meeting I talked as if knowing I needed to let go of them meant I would. On a cerebral level I wanted to. On a heart level I was one pissed off woman with a long memory. And in the interest of keeping the resentments alive I did, subconsciously, what I could to keep them that way. I let my 6 weeks minus a day length of abstinence when it came to my sexual addiction fall away. Nothing will kill intimacy quicker, or keep it from being possible, than self medicating; than turning towards something that masquerades as intimacy, yet is incapable of delivering.

So Sunday morning finds me in need of mercy. In need of grace. I make my way to confession before I was crippled by shame. I go into it wanting a reminder that all is not lost, that I am not lost, that I can still hold my head up and move forward. When I'm done sharing what needs exposing to the Light, yet before I get the reassurance I need, Father Charlie asks if it's possible that there's a link between my resentments surfacing with my acting out in self numbing behaviour. The stunned knowing in my gut, that confirms Truth has been spoken, is there and for the first time I see a direct link between the behaviours. And as much as I wanted to hit the delete button on the Truth, I don't.

From Sunday onward I've felt like an observer of my own actions. What was subconscious behaviour the day before turned into conscious behaviour. I was able to connect the dots in what has been such a (never before realized) predictable pattern in my life. Every self destructive behaviour since has felt like I was punching dearest one (and our relationship) with a "take that" and "that" attitude. I put up my walls in secret only to watch them destroy in the open.

Despite the head knowledge, it took until yesterday to even be willing to consider letting go. I had no grid for how to validate my feelings, which were at the root of the resentments, while letting go of the resentments themselves. I felt as if letting go meant the feelings weren't important. Father Charlie walked me through how to validate the feelings, deal with them and then make a choice. Hang onto them and create walls in relationships, or let go of them and have the intimacy I crave. What did I want to be? A martyr? A victim? Healed? Whole? Hard questions. The choice is mine. How powerful and scary at the same time.

All I really want is to be able to live an authentic life. To be accepting of myself no matter what. To be honest with myself and others. To be a credible witness to the life I do have. To be a credible witness means telling it how it is, without embellishing the truth. I thought I had that mastered. With every AA meeting I attend, I see that I don't.

I had to laugh at myself this past week. On my way to the meeting I was sorting through why I struggle to share at meetings. Why my words sound hollow to myself and how blown away I am by others' honesty and why, oh why do I seem incapable of being that honest? I laughed when I realized I was always trying to compose a "blog like post" in my head to share at the meetings. That is so far removed from simply telling it like it is. Whether it is messy or not, just tell it like it is, Hope. That's all. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not desperate enough yet to be honest, without worrying what it looks like to others.

Usually when I write a blog post I have had some time to sort and decide what to tell and what not to, if even to write about it at all. At a meeting I need a place to tell it like it is, whether I'm sorting it through or not quite there yet. Sharing only shiny, worked through issues are not going to get me very far in the recovery process.

At this point I have the head knowledge of what it means to choose to let go or not. I feel raw and vulnerable. I am still stunned by how swift I was to erect walls to protect myself. I wish it was so easy to let them crumble. I told Father Charlie yesterday that all I felt like God was asking of me was to be present and aware; willing to sit and wait in the feelings while I learned to deal with them. It sounds so brave to type that. So hard to live it.

You know, week after week at AA meetings I hear it said that none of us live the program perfectly, that it's spiritual progress we are after, not perfection. This past week I read these things aloud at the meeting and it felt like I was hearing them for the first time. For part of the time that I was reading them aloud they were speaking to me so deeply that I was totally unaware of anyone else.

I've had a love affair with head knowledge my whole life. I have a magnet on my fridge that says: "More than anything she wanted to live from her heart." I look forward to bearing witness to that reality one day.

Wallowing

"Don't wallow in guilt. Wallow in the mercy of God."

~Catherine Doherty
The Sacrament of Reconciliation is all about wallowing in mercy. When I found myself in much need of it yesterday, I asked to see the priest. Confession is good for my soul. It takes so much energy to carry around secrets. I know, I can take them to God at any moment. There is a relief though, in speaking them aloud to a human being, someone who represents Jesus with skin on to me. It helps keep the "if people really knew me" lie from paralyzing me. In a way, it helps keep me honest not only with myself, but in community as well.

And I believe in the church's teaching which Catherine Doherty explains this way: "When you say to a man, "I have sinned," you have to believe that this chap called a "priest," whatever he might be, is Christ, and it is Christ who says, "I forgive you. I absolve you." Get that straight. This must always be there before you in the infinite totality of faith. It is isn't the priest who is absolving in confession, it's Christ."

She goes on to speak of examining one's conscience as a means to recollect oneself - to collect all the fragments. And so with several fragments weighing on my mind yesterday I negated their power to fill me with shame by speaking them aloud and admitting I was in need of grace. Father Charlie was able to see the domino effect of one of my sins that lead me to commiting another. In doing so, a pattern I have been repeating for years was uncovered and held to the Light. The revelation spurs me on to begin another step 4 with an honesty I was incapable of a year ago.

Today has fragments of its own that need collecting. Rather than wallowing in shame because of that reality I will let those fragments lead me to wallow in Christ's mercy all over again.

Stinkin' Thinkin'

I feel like I've got my head screwed on straight again. What a relief. I went to my AA meeting this morning and, in the companionship of others on this journey, I found the encouragement, strength and hope to move forward.

They say that it's 15% about drinking and the remaining 85% about drinking. Funny how we think that stopping the drinking will take care of the rest but it's only the beginning. I have many years of doing next to nothing about my thinking.

Last night I got pissy with someone. Pissy enough that I knew I had to pick up the phone and make an amend to them before I went to bed. I determined I would state my thoughts to them today about the situation without drama and with clarity. What fun. I managed the clarity with a good dose of drama queen behaviour added in. Eventually I was able to tell the other person I needed to talk about the situation another time when my emotions were not running the show. I got off the phone and realized I had a resentment about not only this situation but about a whole slew of things related to it. Great. I started to beat myself up about it. Telling myself I had learned absolutely zip about recovery or else I wouldn't be acting like I was. Then I realized beating myself up was not accomplishing anything. So I stopped. I asked myself what I could be grateful for in the situation. And I found gratitude for recognizing the resentment and recognizing I needed to take care of it. It takes too much energy to carry resentments in my heart. Before returning to AA (in June) I doubt I would've recognized either. I would have milked that baby resentment right into a teenage size one with glee.

And so I went to my meeting and shared the whole story. The realization that I can't afford to carry resentments around with me because the carrying of them will lead me to act out in a way that is damaging to myself. And at that point all I was ready to do was ask God for help in letting it go because on my own I still wanted to feed it a little bit longer. And I found nods of understanding around the table and an acceptance that helped me accept myself for where I was at. What a gift.

I reached out in different ways this week to help me with other areas. I emailed someone about the sugar sensitivity issues in my life. At their suggestion, I then joined an online group for support. Being back in AA has taught me that I need to reach out and do something if I want change to happen in my life. It's not going to come find me, unless it deteriorates into such a mess that it involves other people. God's helping me reach out before I sink that far. I am grateful.

Food For Thought

Addiction Amoeba

Bucket Handles

Dearest one decided after his bone scan came back fine to go to the chiropractor to see if he could get some relief. He had been worried if something was wrong with his bones that a chiropractor could make it worse.

Wow. He had what is called a bucket handle sublexation......the rib was stuck hinged out - a bit of adjusting and he felt like a different person. Still a bit sore but his appetite came back and the nausea went away and last night he slept better than he has in many months!! A few more times of adjustments and he should be back to normal.

So we are more than grateful. Also feeling a tad bit silly - worrying and worrying and it ended up being an easy fix. Who would have thought a rib out of place could cause such pain? And that the doctors couldn't figure it out! What happens to the person who doesn't do chiropractors and they are in chronic pain?

Heaving a huge sigh of relief here. I am sure you are too.

"I Want That"

I was trying to avoid thinking by playing Carioca Rummy when I looked up at this plant. If you look closely you can see two tendrils reaching towards the ceiling. New growth.

When we moved into a different house the summer after Y2K, this plant came with it. Back then it grew on a trellis that went from floor to ceiling. I didn't know it needed quite a bit of water or adequate sunlight so the poor thing suffered under my care.

When we moved to this place I cut the plant off the trellis and salvaged what I could. I just about chucked the plant out in the midst of the moving is such a hassle exhaustion but decided to give it a reprieve. With a southeastern exposure and more water the plant is thriving and has new tendrils of growth to prove it.

These days I am resisting growth. In a determined no fucking way am I giving in kind of way.

Instead I'm taking sidetrips. Obsessing about dearest one's health problems is one way to avoid my issues. Staying up until 1 AM so I fall asleep the instant my head hits the pillow is another. Writing only one page in my journal as opposed to three works too. I can manage to stay superficial for one page whereas three runs the risk of opening up my wounds.

And I'd be fine if not for snippets I read here and there on your blogs that rebound in my head like one of those paddles with a bouncy ball attached on a string. I would love to cut the string that keeps your words afloat, but that darn Holy Spirit has the scissors. One sentence, one measly sentence can hound me like a mosquito in the night.

It was quite a while ago that I read these words in a postonRick's blog:

"What is the secret place inside you that God has put his finger on and has said to you, “I want that.”?"

That sentence has been haunting me. I don't keep many secrets these days. And if you've read my blog you know about my nearly lost sobriety and my struggles with sexual addiction. Not too long ago I wrote about the phrase "eating disorder" getting past my internal censor while I was praying. In that particular post I wrote:

"So now I pray for the courage to face what feels like my last escape hatch."

Screw that. I'm keeping my escape hatch for now. Rather than praying, I am doing my dead level best to pretend that I have no issues with food. The thought of having that prayer answered not only makes my innards cringe it makes me want to eat,too.

With breakthroughs in other areas of my life I feel like my issues have skootched themselves over into a pile and are playing themselves out in this area wherein I refuse to let go and let God. I feel like I've been backed into a corner hanging onto my Linus like blanket for all its worth. Too bad it doesn't give lasting comfort.

I whine to myself that if only a person didn't have to eat I would have some forward movement in this area of my life as well. What I really don't want to face up to is that I am not willing to give this over. Not willing to admit how unmanageable it makes my life. Admitting that would mean taking responsibility for my actions. I can hardly handle the thought of struggling with this one for one day at a time for the rest of my life.

When I went to get the link for Rick's Driving In The Dark post, I read a new post of his. In it he says:

We can never save (be made whole) ourselves regardless of how right we want to be. Eventually we will hit bottom and it usually happens when we least expect it. Our salvation doesn't come from running from God, it comes from returning to God... resting in God-- this is where we are made whole. When we are willing to face the truth of ourselves."

This is my second go round at writing this post. The first one got eaten up in an effort to edit it. This much later I'm having a hard time not judging myself for being a friggin drama queen who needs to stop her bellyaching and get with the program. How can you tell I've gone two weeks without a meeting?

Running the Gamut

Dearest one's bone scan came back normal. We are very relieved. They had told him it would only take 15 minutes for the scan and when he was in there over 30 minutes I started to worry. My vivid imagination can run the gamut in less than 30 seconds. We still don't know what is causing his symptoms but hopefully it won't take too much longer for the doctors to figure out. Dearest one has four more weeks of holidays and it would be wonderful to have this mystery solved before he goes back to work. Thank you for your prayers.

Delaying Tactics

"In virtually every major addiction, there comes a time when one resolves to master it. The addicted person decides to quit. "I've really got to stop. I just need a little more discipline and willpower." Sensing an impeding frontal attack upon its addiction, the mind comes up with the most cunning, inventive strategies possible. The more creative and intelligent the person, the more agonizing this process will be.

The mind will suggest, perhaps, that it is not wise to rush into such things. The "resolving to resolve" stage can effectively prohibit any real action from taking place for years at a time.

After a while, the person may recognize some of these delaying tactics for what they are. But they are never all recognized, for the mind is endlessly inventive; it always has another, more subtle trick up its sleeve. Even when the person realizes that it is time to "put up or shut up," the delays continue. Of necessity, they also become more ludicrous.

If the person makes it through these deceptions to the point of authentically deciding to quit, a profound sense of terror will arise at the prospect of relinquishing the addictive behaviour.(emphasis added) On the surface, the fear will seem reasonable; the addiction has become so much a part of the person's life that its relinquishment feels like death. But it is just another mind trick, another delaying tactic. The truth, of course, is that the person survived quite well before the addiction and could do so again."

~ from Addiction and Grace by Gerald May

Squirming

When dearest one asked me if I had blogged yet today I said,"no, I have nothing to say." He told me to write exactly that then. Silly man. Silly me. We make a good couple.

His bone scan is tomorrow morning (already!). That is good news.

Below is a quote from Christy's blog:

"Much as I would like to give the middle finger to 2,000 years of tradition, I still think there is something there. I don’t know if that’s faith or Stockholm syndrome."

You can read the rest of the post here.

Her honesty is refreshing. I'm trying to squirm away from looking Truth in the face in my life right now, so reading someone who writes with transparency is encouraging. Until I decide to stop my squirming, posts will be non existent I think.

Skimming the Surface

The family gathering was enjoyable. There were 50 of us in our yard enjoying coffee and goodies, visiting with one another. I realized later that a good deal of my enjoyment came because I was able to be myself. Perhaps there are moments in my life when I simply am who I was created to be. That makes me smile. It's been such a long time in the making. Or maybe it would be better said: I've been such a long time in the making. Not done by any stretch of the imagination, but moving forward.


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We had a medical resident attend to dearest one today at his doctor's appointment. She was an excellent listener and skilled at assessment. Dearest one is now being scheduled for a bone scan and they are looking into what kind of scan would work to get a close look at his abdominal wall as well. Not sure of the wait time for either scan but hopefully it won't be too long.

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A stop at a thrift store today paid off with two books. One by Geneen Roth and another by Henri Nouwen.


It's been a good day. Deeper thoughts another day.

A Hodge Podge of Thoughts

It's late Friday night. Insomnia rarely bothers me but it is tonight, so here I am. Dearest one is on holidays for 6 weeks and we've been acting like it. Late to bed, late to rise. I'm not sure when I am going to be completely free of feeling like a naughty kid, but it feels rather wonderful being free of shift schedules and what time it is, or even what day it is, for that matter.

I started writing my young adult novel this week. I was a bit frantic when I looked through my container full of journals and writing and couldn't find the notebook that held the outline of the first seven chapters. But thankfully I found it in the first place I looked, in the cave we call our closet. Whew.

So far the outlining is just plain fun. Asking as many "what if?" questions as I want to and figuring out how to get from A to B. It feels like a giant puzzle. The hard work will come later, but for now it feels like play. It's a bit like solving a mystery, too. The time I've spent writing blog posts has helped me to delete ideas when need be. I already let go of a path the book was taking in favour of a much more tension filled, plausible direction.

In preparation for working on this novel again, I read Terry Brooks' book on writing called Sometimes The Magic Works. It's one of the most realistic books about the craft of writing I've ever read. I haven't read any of his fiction but my kids are familiar with some of it.

I wish I had written down the name of the book that initially got me started outlining my novel. The author's advice was to take a book in the same genre that you are writing and dissect it chapter by chapter. Stuff like what is the ongoing dilemma and what is the chapter dilemma. I took one of my favourite children's books, The Nickel Plated Beauty by Patricia Beatty, and set to work. It is a wonderful story and it was easy to see the sequence of the book and how the author kept the story moving forward and what she did with the characters. It gave me hope that I could attempt a novel of my own.

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Dearest one's CT scan came back normal. That is good news. He has a doctor's appointment next week. Hopefully they will get it figured out soon. It's been 5 months now of discomfort, pain etc. He's pretty much lost his appetite and he can't afford to lose weight. We do bear a resemblance to Jack Sprat and his wife!

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This afternoon was partly spent entertaining our neighbour's young son. We got a taste of what grandparenthood might be like one day. It was rather fun. At supper time this little lad was trying to get the rice off the serving spoon and finally just stuck the whole spoon in his mouth. That did the trick. We could hardly keep from laughing. What a world of difference from the days of raising our own kids. (Sorry, kids!) Perspective. We might have learned some! When we went to pray before we ate, we held out our hands towards him. He's not used to praying before meals so he looked at our open hands and high-fived us both! We did chuckled over that. When he saw my bouquet of flowers he wanted to know if he could have some for his mom. I gladly divided it up so he could take some home to her. I thought that was pretty sweet for a 5 year old boy to think of his mom like that.

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This Sunday we will host almost all of dearest one's family for coffee. One of his sisters is here visiting with her adult daughter and two grandsons. When we are all together we are close to 50 people and having one family host the rest is the easiest way for her to see them all. I'm trying to save my spoons for that gathering. One of the things I have learned, since my health issues forced me to pick and choose what I spend my energy on, is how to let go of trying to impress anyone with my housework, etc. It took having a chronic illness to stop worrying that people will measure my worth by the state of my housekeeping. This is particularly huge when it comes to dearest one's family, where none of the married women work outside the home, and they are very skilled at homemaking and hospitality. I've learned a lot from observing them over the past 25 years. I think I've learned to stop measuring my own worth by how well I keep up the housework. That's more important than what others think.

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Below is the latest quote I printed out and stuck to the wall above my keyboard. I found it at Antony's blog, Coming To The Quiet. If you check out his blog you will find much food for thought.

"Your idea of me is fabricated with materials you have borrowed from other people and from yourself. What you think of me depends on what you think of yourself. Perhaps you create your idea of me out of material that you would like to eliminate from your own idea of yourself. Perhaps your idea of me is a reflection of what other people think of you. Or perhaps what you think of me is simply what you think I think of you.

~ Thomas Merton, No Man Is An Island

Telling The Truth

Twenty five years ago today dearest one and I met in person for the first time. He travelled from northern Alberta to the southern tip of Ontario to meet me. We had written to one another as penpals when I was 14 and he 16. Circumstances muddled things up for several years in between but when I was 19 and he 21, we met. That day is still crystal clear in my memory.

One of the things I did in preparation to meet him was go on a diet. My very first one. How I decided I needed to, I don't know, but diet I did. Enough that a friend commented on my (8 pound) weight loss. Funny how one comment like that can plant seeds of a negative kind. If I didn't think I had a weight problem before her comment then I surely thought I had one afterwards. This many years later I know that if someone notices you have lost 8 pounds, there really wasn't anything wrong with your before picture. With 80 extra pounds on my frame now, eight pounds seems like a pittance.

Earlier this summer, when I took the month of June away from blogging, I renewed my habit of journal writing. I've filled more pages in the last 3 months than I did in the previous eighteen. Journalling is similar to having one long album of before and after pictures. You get to see where you've been and where you're going. Within the last week or so I've noticed a reluctance to journal. Missed four days in a row to be precise. Missing days is a sign that something's brewing deep within me. Something I don't want to acknowledge. Never knowing what's going to come out the end of my pen when I start writing can be unnerving so, in order to keep a facade of serenity, I had to stop writing.

The only problem is that when I don't journal then I have to carry around those renegade thoughts and repress them. That takes energy. Yesterday I took up my pen and started to write. Here is what hit the page:

"There's a link between missing days in here and being out of control in other areas of my life. My eating is out of control. Twenty one days of abstinence (from sexual addiction) but my eating is wretched. I am lying to myself when it comes to food. I keep thinking that dealing with the other stuff is enough for now so food is my relief valve. It's the insanity of addiction in another area.
I feel like a two year old having a temper tantrum. I know I don't want to diet. I don't want to write down everything I eat. Yesterday though, I thought about the increasing risk of becoming diabetic and having to keep track of it all then and having to follow a rigid diet. Why do I feel so resisitent? Probably because I am unable to face this reality right now. For now I'm going to pray to become willing. Going to AA is teaching me to face other stuff in my life. I'm alternately glad/pissed off about that."

What I failed to write was that I didn't want to keep track of anything I ate because I want to eat mindlessly. I don't want to be aware when it comes to food. Being aware would demand action. It would be like wrestling my last lifeline away from me and leave me exposed and naked to the truth with no place to hide.

I've known I was sugar sensitive for many years already. Most (if not all) alcoholics are. Getting off of sugar has always been a good thing for me. During my blog sabbatical I returned to AA after an 8 year absence. At that first meeting one of the people said to a newly sober person, "If you come here you'll mess up your drinking. That's what happened to me. I started coming to meetings and it messed up my drinking." We all chuckled but we knew the absolute truth to that statement. And for me I immediately thought of my sugar sensitivity and said to myself "oh great, knowing something about sugar sensitivity messes up my eating too." Same principle, different addiction. I've followed the sugar sensitive program in the past and found relief from the insanity of being a binge eater. I know enough about sugar addiction to know that one bite of something sugary has a domino effect in my life. Although I haven't followed the program for several years, I have enough knowledge to recognize the daily cause and effect of sugar in my diet.

A few days ago I arrived at my AA meeting only to find it had been cancelled. At that moment the only other female member of my home group arrived too. We decided to go out for coffee. During our visit we shared bits and pieces of our history with one another. Through listening to my own words, telling her my story when it came to food, I clearly heard myself justifying my behaviour. Trying to further cover that up with words only made it worse. I might have been able to blot the conversation out of my mind had I been talking to a non addict, but talking with another addict in recovery made it more difficult to ignore. There came a point in our conversation when I realized that I could have substituted the word alcohol for food and been telling the same slippery story. I was glad when our coffee time came to an end.

I know how much I get pissed off when I hear someone lying to themselves. The urge to smack them upside the head is huge. "Wake up," I want to tell them, "You only get one go round at this thing called life." I see I've got my own waking up to do.

Yesterday after communion, when I knelt to pray, I told God I hadn't been hearing much from him lately. The reply I heard in my heart was that God was speaking to me through other people right now. "Ok, I could accept that," I said. So I started talking to God about my eating disorder. Praying those specific words, which have never come out of my mouth before, stopped me in my tracks. Tears came to the surface. I nearly felt like I had been tricked into praying them. There are times when praying spontaneously can seem as dangerous as journalling. You just never know what's going to come out of your mouth.

Wasn't it just a few short days ago when I wrote that facing the pain was worth it? Man, it sucks to eat one's words. It's the one thing I have no desire to binge on.

So now I pray for the courage to face what feels like my last escape hatch. In my head I know that facing the pain is always worth it in the end. But I am not always willing. I know I can do anything one day at a time, but some days I sure don't want to. With the healing I have experienced lately I am more comfortable in my body than I have ever been. It's more about being uncomfortable in my stinking thinking that's the problem. The outward is simply a manifestation of that thinking.

In my email every week I get a newsletter from the Radiant Recovery site. Many months ago, it might've been a year ago already, there was one newsletter where it said, "If you want what we have, do what we do." My initial thought was: "Piss off. Don't tell me what to do." But the words of the newsletter wouldn't stop reverberating in my head. Despite their continued presence, I kept searching for something that would make my path different, easier, without cost to myself. Something where I could have my cake and eat it, too. I never found it. I know now that the phrase "If you want what we have, do what we do" applies to any recovery process, regardless of the addiction.

This morning I picked up my pocket Thomas Merton and flipped to a random page. Here is what I read:

"We make ourselves real by telling the truth."

God continues to speak to me through other people.

Bad Kids

Another great quote from the masthead of Boar's Head Tvern:

"I think good preachers should be like bad kids. They ought to be naughty enough to tiptoe up on dozing congregations, steal their bottles of religion pills, spirituality pills, and morality pills, and flush them all down the drain. The church, by and large, has drugged itself into thinking that proper human behavior is the key to its relationship with God. What preachers need to do is force it to go cold turkey with nothing by the word of the cross - and then be brave enough to stick around while it goes through the inevitable withdrawal symptoms. But preachers can’t be naughty or brave unless they’re free of their own need for the dope of acceptance. And they won’t be free of their need until they can trust the God who has already accepted them, in advance and dead as doornails, in Jesus. -Robert Farrar Capon, The Foolishness of Preaching"

Something(s) To Be Glad About

A day with enough spoons to get done what needed to be done. I am grateful. Thank you for your prayers. No news on dearest one's CT scan and we are hoping no news is good news. Wish the need for pain killers wasn't so constant. He does too. So much so that he doesn't always take them, even though he needs them. Did I mention he is stubborn? A nice stubborn most of the time though. :)

Youngest son is moving into his own place today. That is truly something to celebrate. In the spring he moved in with his 15 year old girlfriend and her family. It was devastating. Many tears. Many prayers. To see him gaining his independence in a healthier way today is an answer to prayer.

It's been a good day.