Category: Mental Health

Finding healing and help

He gives and takes away…

Life can feel a lot like a roller coaster. I don’t love that analogy, mostly because my love of roller coasters has been squashed after digestive tract surgery (I’ll leave the visual up to you…).

Currently I feel like the up tik waiting to cress the first hill. Yesterday marked the 1 month until… mark.

You can imagine the “things” that need to get done. Remember the tiny house hoarder post? In my own mind, there were “things” I wanted to do to get ready. “Things” I think I need or want.

Unbeknownst to me, last night started the purge of me.

The creature of habit I am, I turned on my computer to watch some mindless show to fall asleep when suddenly it wouldn’t turn on…no computer.

Fine.

Today on my way to an onsite visit for work, my gracious co-worker texted me (whilst I was going 60 mph) to notify me that my back tire was “wobbling.”

Fine.

My amazing mechanic met me on site but sadly it couldn’t be fixed on site.

It’ll take a day.

That’s when my spirit said “not fine.”

I was “trying” to stockpile my PTO for surgery.

God has other plans.

With my 4 way flashers on, I prayed my way to my mechanics. Pulling over every so often to let the parade of cars pass me by (I waved politely to their middle fingers).

In my ballet flats with my work bag flung over my shoulder, I began to grumble as I began walking home.

And then…without warning…I heard the Spirit say…

I rounded the corner and crested the drive of Teaberry Acres and looked up to the sun peaking through the tall trees.

My blistered little toe rubbed against my new ballet flats as the gravel crunched beneath my feet.

What did I see?

Packages resting against the front door of THE121.

Packages from you, amazing readers, my friends. Who have blessed me more than I can express!!!

The Lord has a way of stripping us so that we can see Him more clearly. It feels like a lot of stripping of me lately.

The surgery post was probably one of the most vulnerable posts I have posted in a long time. I fought the Spirit hard on that post. My independent self wants to think (believe) I can do it all on my own. I can’t. That is the reality. He is teaching me to surrender. Why?

I have to let go of me, so that I can see HIM.

After I carried my packages up my broken stairs, I wanted to text just one friend, but I could hear the Spirit say, “text your community group?”

All of them?

Yes.

I did.

Almost Immediately the texts came pouring in with offer rides to work, prayer, cars being offered, calls to make sure I was ok.

It’s so easy to focus on what I don’t have. The Lord wants me to focus on what I do have. Community. Sometimes that community looks like you blessing me with your prayers as well as practical gifts even from hundreds of miles away. Sometimes that looks like care in my community right here across the miles I call home.

So does He take away?

Yes.

Does He also give?

Also yes.

Blessed be his name.

So whether in plenty or in want.

I pray that I can say

Blessed be HIS name.

Thank you for journeying with me. For blessing me. For praying.

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What goes in doesn’t always come out.

If you have sat with me for any moment of time, you may know that I LOVE asking questions.

I truly care and I’m genuinely interested.

So when I asked a few co workers what their goals were for the summer, the answers were usual, go to an amusement park, go on a hike, ect.

When the question was posed back to me, I knew my answer right away “I want to clean all my cupboards and deep clean my house.”

I may or may not have said “THE121 is starting to look a little bit hoarded!”

A few very blank stares responded my way.

How can a tiny house look hoarded???

VERY EASILY.

While I have much storage (and for that I am grateful), my organization style is somewhere around shove it in any place that has a door to cram it in the back of my truck.

You can imagine that it’s a lot easier to look like a hoarder in 250 square feet than it may in a traditional house. If you bring things in without taking things out… it can quickly become overwhelming.

With the humidity hanging around 1,000%, I somehow gathered enough strength to clean some of the cupboards today!

Before
After
As someone who lives with a disability my medicine cabinet can get overwhelming VERY quickly.
Condensed and organized.
Sometimes the toilet has to serve as a shelf when you’re organizing your bathroom.
I decided I didn’t need 5,000 bottle of tums!
Throwing stuff out feels SO good!!!

Summer isn’t over quite yet and to meet this goal early on is such a good feeling!

Yes, I have to clean and organize THE121 just like typical people in typical houses. The difference? It just doesn’t take quite as long and for that, I am so very grateful!

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Old Age Mode

I led a workshop today on spiritual wellness. Among the many things we talked about was “where do you find your peace?”

I was able to share with participants that I find a lot of peace here among the acres in the beauty of God’s creation. Lately I’ve been going out to potty with Maggie Marie (shameless cute puppy picture below) at night.

Wait. She potties, I don’t. I know I have a composting toilet but that DOES NOT mean I potty outside!

Rewind.

While she is doing her business I wander and observe. I take time to thank my creator God for the so many good gifts He has given me.

Tonight as I perused around THE121 something caught my eye.

What was that tucked behind my angel wing begonias in my window box???

I would like to say I squealed with glee like a little school girl but truthfully I ran back into my house to grab my phone to take a pic!

And then…I sent it to my sister who entered the nest into Google lens.

There you have it.

I’m officially old.

I find joy in birds.

I’ve written it down.

For the world to read.

Although I haven’t bought the books or binoculars yet. So maybe I’m only middle aged????

But I did nearly break my neck to get this picture….

I will let you decide 😉.

I’ll keep you posted…

P.S. I want to know how YOU have identified what bird built this nest!

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Sunnies and Bluegills

I’m not quite sure I could ever go back to “city” living. The country runs in my veins. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m an introvert or just enjoy the peace that the country affords.

One aspect of country living is that everyone is a “neighbor.” It doesn’t matter if you live one mile away or five, if you’re in the same zip code, we’re neighbors!

This 4th of July my neighbors and friends invited me to their house for a picnic. It was pure delight to travel just a few miles away to these friends and neighbors who live largely off the land.

For the most part I enjoy trying new things. This 4th, that involved fishing! Their grandson, as my fishing guide, taught me all I needed to know about how to catch.

I rigged up my hook with the freshest worms from Bait Buddies (real place not far from THE121) and cast my line.

And there she is!!! My very first fish.

I caught 3 in all as I sat on the dock, tearing worms in half and rebating my hook.

I took in the beauty of God’s creation, breathing deep and squealing with delight as fish after fish bit my hook.

I can’t do what I use to do due to ongoing health concerns. However I am learning to shift my thinking to “what can I do?”

I can leave the acres, travel to my neighbors and catch some sunnies and blue gill.

Next goal, to catch a bass.

Maybe living off the land could be my next goal…

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Undressing THE121

As I look out my window, the sun shines through the new greenery filled landscape and I can no longer see my neighbors house.

There’s a slight breeze with birds chirping and more cars than usual driving by.

Spring.

With the change of seasons, THE121 reminds me, she too, needs changed.

As with all houses, maintenance is important. The longer I have lived at Teaberry Acres, the more rhythmic the seasons seem to become.

Every fall and spring THE121 gets “undressed.”

She wears a beautiful handcrafted skirt year round that serves several purposes. Part of her bi-annual maintenance is to take the skirt off, put up or take down the insulation and in the spring spray for bugs under and around.

She also gets a thorough “once over and under.” I open my eyes and notice. Has she changed? Is she ok? What needs attention?

In all actuality, THE121’s rhythm is similar to the rhythm of my life.

With changing seasons, I too change. Usually quarterly, I inventory my life. I take off the blinders by inviting others in. What has changed? What needs to change? What needs attention?

THE121’s batteries needed attention. Turns out batteries get thirsty. She gets a drink to sustain longer life.

This beautiful spring day I put on my muck boots to undress and redress. I breathe deep with a heart of gratitude for the shelter HE has given me. For the spring breeze through the acres as the sun shines down through the trees.

Rhythm.

Taking off the skirt, removing the insulation, putting it under the house until the next rhythm beckons.
Her beautiful skirt put back into place ready to receive summer.
The dog also gets a bath. She enjoyed rolling under the house, scoping out spiders and basking in the sun-shined breeze.
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36 > 44

Listen, I’ve never been great a math. In fact, in full self disclosure, I’m actually terrible at math.

However, I wholeheartedly stand behind the equation that 36 > 44.

Let me explain.

On this day, I typically celebrate my physical birth. Today just happens to mark that day 44 years ago when my mother brought the wonderful, marvelous me into the world. As the youngest, I humbly exclaim, she stopped at perfection!

I however know that I am far less than perfect. Hence, why I celebrate 36. Because I don’t know the exact date, I celebrate the 4th of May as not just my physical birthday but also my spiritual birthday.

When I was 8 years old, I understood fully that I was a sinner in need of a Savior. At my bedside with my family in the room, I confessed my sin and asked Jesus to forgive me and be Lord of my life.

My story has one of many twists and turns over the 44 years God has allowed me to live on this earth. As I have frequent opportunity to recount the story, one constant always remains. Jesus.

Jesus has never once left me. He has never once let me walk away. If I were to tell you the details of my entire story (and ask me to go out to coffee, I’ll gladly share!), you might be just as amazed as me.

Let me just pause to say too, that we all have a story. If you’ve walked away, it’s ok. If you’ve been hurt by Christians or the church, I’m deeply sorry.

Your story matters.

Jesus cares. He cares so much, He went to the cross for you. He went to the cross for me.

36 years ago, I understood that cost. I’ve been learning day by day what relationship with Him is (and isn’t).

I just had to come.

Jesus has changed my life.

He can change yours too. He will meet you where you are. If you’ve walked away, He is waiting for you to return. If you’ve been hurt, tell Him. He feels your pain.

Got questions? Shoot me a message.

So… for me, 36 > 44.

Did I buy flowers for myself to celebrate?

You bet I did!

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Waiting rooms – a health update on the tiny house girl.

This picture has become a staple for me, or should I say those who journey with me. It’s the waiting room. The waiting room with a number that represents me. The number represents where I am at in the process for the one who is waiting.

I’ve been having some pretty intense abdominal pain that “comes and goes” these past several months post my colectomy with an IRA.

You may also know that I began a new job two months ago and have been without health insurance for two long months.

Many nights I have cried and prayed asking God to take away the pain.

He is gracious.

May 1st my health insurance went into affect!

May 2nd I had another endoscopy and sigmoidoscopy in attempts to “see” what might be causing the pain.

The scene is familiar to me.

“Lay on your left side, we will be putting you to sleep soon.”

I begin to pray.

I wake up and ask for apple juice.

Always.

Hospitals have THE BEST apple juice. I can’t explain it but it’s true.

The Dr. comes and explains to me that my stomach is full of bile which I’m not surprised by. The nausea is real.

She then goes on to explain that my IRA (the place where my small intestine is connected to my rectum) looks “very angry.”

She took biopsies. And we wait.

Wait.

Waiting has been the theme of life for the past fourteen years.

Fourteen years. The length of time I have battled my digestive tract malfunctioning.

Wait.

We wait now on the biopsy results and consults with the surgeon.

Waiting =‘s trusting.

Trusting in God’s plan and God’s timing.

Always easy? No.

It’s in the waiting though that I have learned to surrender my will to His.

After fourteen years I am learning that His Will is always better than mine.

I wait. I pray. I trust.

I also struggle.

And then I wait and pray and trust again.

Please join me in the praying for wisdom and discernment for my treatment team and how we move forward.

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Spring at Teaberry Acres

Some days are just sad. Sad is ok.

Have you ever had those days? Where the sad news just doesn’t end?

That’s how today felt for me.

As I drove up the gravel drive of Teaberry Acres my heart welled with both sadness and gratitude. Sadness and Gratitude can co-exist.

My eyes turned upwards as my tires rolled over the gravel and proceeded up the hill. My heart was reminded of the generous provisions the Lord has granted me.

With my sneakers still on, I woke Maggie Marie up from her slumber (yes my cockapoo sleeps alllll day) and we stood outside with the sun beckoning us through the trees to talk and walk.

It’s been a second since I’ve been on the back acres, but nonetheless I felt the trees calling and my Spirit needing some grounding.

I climbed over the first downed tree that had fallen years ago and began to walk. With each crunch of leaves fallen months ago my Spirit settled more and more.

As THE121 began to fade, I paused and recognized so many answered prayers exist at Teaberry Acres.

Remember.

Remembering helps me fix my focus. Remembering also beckons me to dream again. As I stood at the spot where two trees precariously leaned against two others that broke their fall, I imagined what this spot could be. What could it hold for future healing?

Does God always have to break us to heal us?

I don’t think the answer is always yes.

However I do know that brokenness does lead to healing if we allow Him to enter into those hard places.

Sadness and Gratefulness can coexist.

My Spirit is challenged to continue to dig in. To remember.

THE121 @teaberryacres is a place of many answered prayers, one of which includes healing.

And just for smiles…enjoy Maggie Marie’s smile on our hike tonight @teaberryacres.

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What was lost…has been found!!!

If you read my last post, you entered into my great dismay about the loss of half of my coffee maker.

It was maddening. Quite literally.

I spent hours which turned into days turning this Tiny House inside out. I began obsessing about where that one piece could have gone.

I’m quite certain that there wasn’t a corner of THE121 that wasn’t touched.

I was so obsessed, that I am also quite certain that if you had any face to face contact with me, you knew my quest for the missing piece.

My co-worker and I were chatting and she suggested the “usual”

RETRACE YOUR STEPS.

Yep. Done.

Or had I?

And so, I grudgingly trudged home, to once again “retrace my steps.”

I stood in the middle of all 250 square feet of THE121 and prayed. True statement.

And as if, there it was the entire time…lights from heaven came down, the angels started to sing and the Hallelujah chorus was in stereo!

That one piece?

WAS IN THE COFFEE MAKER!!!

Now before you start to judge (which, if I were you, I would be doing right now…) the one piece had somehow become conjoined to the other piece. I still have zero idea how the coffee maker worked with the two pieces joined together, but alas, that’s above my pay grade.

So many lessons learned in this short (but what felt like eternity) quest.

  • Breathe. I have a lot of cortisol.
  • Cortisol disrupts your nervous system (I’m a trauma therapist)
  • Ask a friend for help
  • Don’t quit
  • Sometimes you have to quit so you can start again
  • Things can indeed get lost in tiny houses
  • Jesus never quit looking for me

I love life.

Most days.

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I bet you never…and other tiny house myths.

I was at a workshop today, the kind where you go around the room and do “ice breaker” questions.

One of the many joys of tiny house living is that for a very long time yet to come, I won’t have to think of a “strange fact about myself.”

Turns out living in a tiny house is strange enough.

Out of the many things people say to me when they hear that I live in a tiny house is, “I bet you never lose anything!”

I wish this statement were true.

Oh. How. I wish.

As it turns out, you can still lose things in 250 square feet.

How is that possible?

I have no idea.

But.

It.

Is.

Currently I’m looking for half of my coffee maker.

Half.

I have one of those fancy coffee makers where you can switch out contraptions depending on the amount of coffee you wish to consume.

Thursday night I wished to consume a larger amount.

Friday the desire was less. Therefore, I took out the larger consumption contraption for the more desirable smaller contraption.

And that leads us to today. Where is the larger contraption?

Gone.

THE121 has swallowed it whole.

I have searched EVERYWHERE. All 250 square feet.

I even resorted to looking in the washing machine because I could figure out how to install a dishwasher this past week but turns out I couldn’t figure out that said dishwasher, in-fact , took dishwashing detergent and not soap. THE121 began filling with suds whilst I was on a zoom call (that’s probably another post)…

So maybe, I scooped the larger coffee contraption up in the towels I used to clean up the suds…

It was a hope, but nope. No coffee contraption in the washing machine.

Here I am, perplexed and dismayed at the loss of half of my coffee maker on the eve of the week where my days turn from 8 hour work days to 9 hour work days.

The myth?

Tiny Houses don’t swallow things whole.

The truth?

I’ve lost more than half of coffee makers. Turns out it’s not about the space, it’s about the mental bandwidth of the girl living in the house.

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