Moving Right Along...

Seven years ago this past weekend, we moved into our house. I love this house.

We had outgrown our old house, and could have put in about $20-40,000 in converting the whole first floor into one unit, and live in a construction zone for months... so we decided to pass on that idea and sold the house to my neighbor's cousin.

We spent a great deal of time looking for a new place, found this one and decided it was the right fit for us. Tons of room, fenced in backyard for the dog... we only had one at the time. Geoff got a Man Cave for his game systems and drum set. We got a beautiful room with a woodstove, a loft where the computer goes. Three big bedrooms and a room that was more of a glorified hallway more than anything but it was nice for bookcases and a bureau and the exercise bike.

Seven years ago we moved in, and in the coming weeks, we'll be moving out.

Many of you who read this blog know what we've been through over the past couple of years. Suffice to say, we've come to an end in that journey with dealing with a certain bank.

I can't discuss any of the situation any further. I'm not allowed to say anything. All I feel I can say is that we're done, it's over, and we lost.  I'm not Frodo, Doug is not Samwise Gamgee and my lawyer, though I love him dearly and appreciate all of his efforts on our behalf, unfortunately isn't Gandalf. We made it as far as we could. And Tolkien would be disappointed in us for sure, but ... it is what it is.

So.

We are in the market for a 3 bedroom house to rent. Geoff has 2 more years in high school left, and we don't want to pull him out of the school he's in with so little time left. We also want to stay close enough geographically to town so he can stay with the BSA Troop. He's so close to finishing with an Eagle that I don't want to try and move him into another troop without knowing the parents and kids.

I will say that I'm happy that this is behind us at this point. Sure, yeah, I am upset. I am heartbroken. But it is a relief to be done.

I don't know what will happen to this house after we're gone. I worry for it, and it is one of the reasons why we fought to keep it. This is a special house... It was built in 1774. It needs to be owned by someone who isn't going to tear it down and slap up two smaller houses on the lot (it isn't protected by the historical society in town), it needs to be owned by someone who will love it like we did and the previous owner did. Someone who hopefully will enjoy this wood stove room, this lighting, this backyard, this hedge of lilacs, this extraordinary set of neighbors on all sides...  I will miss them the most.

I took this photo the morning after we moved in. I came down this morning at exactly 6:10am and while the table has a lot of mail and other stuff on it, the light was exactly... EXACTLY the same. And this I will so miss. So very much.

The Life Scout

(pictured, Geoff and our neighbor, his role model and great friend Thane at Thane's Eagle Ceremony).

Tonight Geoff had a long awaited meeting.

Two years ago he became a Star Scout in Boy Scouts, and has dragged his feet on finishing some merit badges that were required to move him up in rank.

Over the summer he got Lifesaving, and had been working on Camping pretty much since he started Scouting. He is one requirement away from Physical Fitness, and has one meeting left with that merit badge counselor.

A few weeks ago he stepped up his game, met with the Camping merit badge counselor, and started knocking off the remaining requirements. He finished up the badge and had to wait two weeks for his Scoutmaster conference since we missed a meeting and the Scoutmaster missed the following meeting.

He's been chomping at the bit for this review, this conference. And it happened tonight. We had our town's Memorial Day observance, and afterwards the boys went down to the playground under town hall to run around and play crash into things kinds of games that they love. Geoff and Tom sat on the park bench, and fifteen minutes later he came to the car where I was sitting.

Success. Now he needed two committee members, and I couldn't be one of them, to do the board of review. Two showed up and he spent time with them, got his review and advanced in rank.

He's rather pleased with himself... Now he needs five more non-Eagle required badges and five Eagle required (or is it 6?) and an Eagle project to become an Eagle Scout.

Long time readers of this blog know that our journey with Geoff has been challenging. If you read all of our archives, entry by entry, many of them concern him being kind of a nightmare in elementary school. Bungee jumping out of trees, continual issues with school, with temper tantrums, with freaking out over all kinds of things. It took a long time for us to figure out how Geoff's mind worked, and how to deal with him, and a lot of maturity on his part to get to this point.

He has 18 months before he turns 18 years (well, 19 months really ... January 2015). He has to complete this leg of his journey before then, and I think he can do it.

I believe he can do it.

The person he is today is one that I love so deeply and so dearly. I always have loved him but a lot of times it was with a "I love him but he's gonna make my head explode" kind of sentiment. If he doesn't make Eagle, I won't love him any less.

I will, however, invite everyone who doubted him. Everyone who sat across from me at Sped meetings or disciplinary meetings and told me that my son was a problem and needed to be removed from the school. I will invite each and every person who didn't think that Geoff could be awesome. I will ask them "so, how do you like him now?"

Gloating and prideful boasting aren't things I usually do, but so help me God there are some people I want to look in the eye and go "yeah. Check it out."

So, over the next 19 months, send him mojo. I hope the next picture I post is of him at the dias, on the podium, delivering his Eagle Response, or pinning me with my Eagle mom pin.

He started this journey on March 2, 2007. Here's to the journey's end.

dog, doug, debt

i am literally fascinated right now watching my dog wash his face with his paws. it looks like he's trying to scratch his eyes out. it is rather entertaining.

i very much would like to take a nap but Geoff has a dentist appointment in 15 minutes, and wants to recycle cans/bottles (i let him keep the money if he does the work).

someone keeps calling out house and leaving these long rambling messages for doug that he won't answer/return. it's about some debt or something. i'm not sure why he won't talk to them. i think he's in a similar state of depression and avoidance as i am (hence the watching the dog wash his face for 10 minutes thing...)  they won't talk to me and hang up on me when i pick up the phone. so i have started disconnecting the call when the woman is in the middle of her script. i wonder how long it takes for them on the other end to realize they are no longer leaving a message.

really want that nap.

Mother's Day Weekend 2013

Friday night, we went out to eat at a restaurant near Doug's new office. He is pissed about commuting, but his new neighborhood is kind of amazing. I've been able to rekindle writing for the Shenanigans With Dave blog, because yes, we've had beer.

I hadn't had beer in about 14 months. But felt that two here and there wouldn't be bad, especially if I'm watching all the other carbs I'm taking in. And I do love beer.

This particular Friday night we went to the Thirsty Scholar, which was wonderful, and the wings were fantastic. I'll be writing that up a little later. We'll be back there. We left before the Bruins game, sadly, but we had a mission. The Dave of the Shenanigans with Dave blog is in the hospital after a series of nasty seizures. He'd been doing really well with very minor seizures, and got hit by a series of grand mal. And then his kidneys failed. So he's been laid up while they try and figure out what the deal is with the kidneys.

I wanted to visit him all week, but a surprise and unexpected meeting with our lawyer on Thursday stopped us from getting into town together (more on that later, just not in this entry as I am not ready to talk about it personally, and don't want the bank that shall not be named to read it here first)...

Friday night at the hospital is a good time. He's got a great room with a hugely beautiful view of Beacon Hill. We laughed our asses off. His nurse is a very nice Danish dude with an ADORABLE accent... he reminded me of my brother in law with his smile and his kind demeanor. I loved him.

Saturday morning I got up with Geoff and we went to the electronics recycling fundraiser that the Boy Scout Troop does each year.

Geoff was a trooper, worked really hard unloading vehicles, and playing with his friends. I love this picture - the bug belongs to Matt (Dave's son) and the boys piled into it and got all campy. I threw Matt in the middle of it. On the right is a first year Scout who just joined the troop and he is my new favorite person. So funny and sweet. Joined right in with the older guys. Just what I love seeing. They don't care that one is in sixth grade and one is in 11th grade... they're all in this together. Well, some are in the boot and some are not. I love that Geoff and the guys can work hard and have fun together. It really makes my heart happy.

Saturday afternoon Doug and I took the dogs for a walk, I talked to Aaron while the dogs swam and played hard even though the walk was very short.

Saturday night Gonzo couldn't even stand up. Both of his back legs would just crumble under him. He was very sore from the swim... so I stayed up with him until 1am. Jess stayed up with him until 4am. Geoff was up until at least 6am, came down off the computer when Jess went upstairs. I came down at about 6 when I talked with Geoff... Sat down here with the limpy crying dog until 8:45 when Doug came down.

I really wanted to go to church - we were installing a new Elder and I wanted to be there but I honestly got no good sleep. Doug let me sleep until noon. We took a wonderful walk, a little over two miles, with the one dog who can do more than 100 feet on the trail. He made me a cocktail and some wonderful italian sausages. My feet are up, we're relaxing, watching ParaNorman and happy.

Gonzo is doing much better. He can get up and walk around. But this one threw us for a loop and I'm worried about him. Sigh.

A Sunday Afternoon Photo Walk - Boston Architecture and thoughts...

I am only posting a few photos in this entry, all of the photos I took are in a flickr gallery that I encourage you to go check out.

On Sunday afternoon, Jess had to work so we drove her down to Newton and parked in town to take a walk around Beacon Hill. Beacon Hill is the crown jewel of pretty architecture in Boston. But first, Doug wanted to show me what he considers the "Ugliest Building in Boston," even uglier than City Hall Plaza. If you can believe that.

It is the Government Service Center, which houses several Boston and Massachusetts state public health oriented departments like the Department of Mental Health, Unemployment Assistance, and others. The building is really two buildings, kind of like a complex with a court yard.

Now, admittedly, I don't know anything about architecture. Modern, ancient or in between. I know buildings are sometimes designed in unique and bizarre ways. Quirky is cool. There are styles, there are tastes, and personally I tend to like houses that are colonial or farm style, churches that have flying buttresses or gorgeous airy light interiors, museums that lead you to the next room of beauty in pathways and halls and corridors as beautiful as the art held within. I'm going to make a series of judgements on this complex and some of you are going to agree, some are going to disagree. I never in my life thought that buildings could be "controversial." But even the style this building is made in, the "Brutalist Style"  by its name alone, speaks volumes to the lack of beauty and comfort on the exterior.

Ironically, for years I worked at One Bowdoin Square in the lobby when I ran the Au Bon Pain there... which isn't there anymore. And I never once even NOTICED this building. Doug points out I was usually arriving at 4am in the pitch dark and was probably anxious to get into the building quickly so I could lock it behind me and be safe until the baker Said arrived and I wasn't alone, and I was usually leaving at 2pm, exhausted, bleary eyed, and focused on turning left to get to the subway and get home.

He's right.

To the tour. We parked in front of the Erich Lindemann section of the building on Staniford Street. I was immediately struck by the fun house ramps of stairs going up, the strange narrow ramps going between sections of the building, the "raked" exterior which looked to me like a horrible giant bear had dug its claws into the concrete while it was still wet, the bizarre light fixtures and wacky tubes that extended up from the ground or from the top of a blocky things, and the bizarre kidney-shaped "stairs" that went up and then down, for no apparent reason.

The next thing that caught my eye was the fencing around the entire building. There are these nice bench alcoves, which I liked and thought gave the building a touch of welcome, but they're fenced in. You can't sit on them. Ever. We figured it was to prevent the homeless from sleeping on them for one, and for another the backs of the benches were very low, and dropped down into a pit or to another level. We theorized that if people were having a fight or were incredibly drunk gravity may have its way and people could plummet to their deaths.

Then we walked into the court yard area between the two buildings and noticed that the fencing continued all the way around every possible area where anyone could stand, sit, lay down, sleep, or plant flowers.

Some of this fencing seemed excessive, especially the second photo above here. No one is going to plummet to their death sitting along the bushes. And because all this fencing is here, no one is maintaining the landscaping. No one is cleaning behind the fences. No one is maintaining any asethetic in an already dismal looking area.

Now, mind you, the purpose of one of this building is primarily  to help the mentally ill or people who feel they need help with ... life, the universe and everything. Alzheimers, Dementia, substance abuse.

Sadly, I cannot find an actual webpage that outlines any services that are provided at the Lindemann offices. All the webpages point to documentation on pdf or Word documents with their address and letterhead, for information technology policies and evacuation plans in case of emergency.

But unlike most hospitals or doctors offices, there is no actual dot com or dot edu or dot gov that outlines doctor information or services are rendered here.

If I'm in need of assistance for my mental state, I do not know if this is a place I want to show up to and get help. The most interesting piece I did find was an article from Singapore Architect, April 2010, pretty much agreeing with my initial assessment that this wacky a building is not a healthy place if your mental health needs help. Go read the article... see if you agree with how I feel about it.

I took 20 pictures of a building I honestly hope I never have to set foot into. There but for the grace of God go I.

We were standing on Cambridge Street facing the building and looking at Bowdoin Square (where my Au Bon Pain once was...) and I turned around and saw this:

And my faith in art and buildings and everything was instantly renewed. Crossing the street, we headed up to Beacon Hill to walk about and cleanse our palate from what we just looked at.

Beacon Hill was in full bloom, gorgeous gardens, window boxes full of pansies and hydrangeas, flowering trees of every color and shape.

A few yards needed a little help, but for the most part everything was perfectly maintained and just plain gorgeous.

Historic markers on fences and doors let us know what builder or colonial leader lived there. We walked around Louisburg Square where our former Senator once had a fire hydrant removed because it was in the way of where he wanted to park (true story). There were tourists a plenty, folks walking their dogs, people walking back from the market texting and smiling.

It was a gorgeous day to walk around a gorgeous neighborhood. Before we knew it, we had walked about 4 miles. Just in this one neighborhood. Up and down hills, up and down same roads to get over to another road where Doug remembered there was this  "pocket park" that he wanted me to see.

He had wanted to show me a little synagogue tucked into the neighborhood, very unassuming and unexpected. The door to the Vilna Shul was open, so we asked if we could take a look around. The girl brought us upstairs where a man was giving a tour to some Hebrew School students getting ready to do their bat/bar mitzvahs. A lot of people don't realize that in this neighborhood where now there is some of the most exclusive and expensive real estate there were once some of the poorest immigrant neighborhoods, and the Shul is evidence of the Jewish community that once lived there.

The gentleman, named Steve, welcomed us into the tour. We learned about the painting restoration project and the four layers of paint that were being very carefully exposed by the experts. The students went downstairs and the man continued to show us around. He told us he is the executive director of the Shul, and he loves this place, and is retiring at the end of June.

Through his tour, I could feel his joy about the history and the building. We talked about Judaism and Christianity, about our church (also an historic building going through restoration right now) and I invited him up for a tour any time he wanted. We talked about all the symbolism in the woodwork of the Ark, including the "live long and prosper" sign and the American Eagle at the top.

The pews in the women's section of the synagogue were once part of an African American church, and when the building was sold, the pews came here. Steve told us the "Glory" regiment sat in these pews, and the synagogue is so happy to have retained this piece of Boston, Black and American history. 

How lucky were we to meet him on this particular day, close to his retirement, and get a wonderful personal tour of his beautiful synagogue. Such a wonderful time, and we felt so blessed after we left.

Thank you Steve. Enjoy your retirement. 

We continued onward, stopping for a snack at Emmet's Pub. We walked down to Tremont Street, looked at the City Hall building, pondered the Big Apple Circus which seems to have taken up permanent residency on the plaza... walked on down to look at the bridge from the overpass, from the top of the greenway, from the top of the tunnel.

TD Garden is decked out for the Bruins who will hopefully quickly dispatch each opponent and once again win the Stanley Cup (a girl can dream...). Light was fading fast, and so was my camera battery. I caught one last nice shot down an alley way of the Custom House in the magic hour light.

We stood watching the traffic running down the bridge. I thought of what buildings were the West End before they tore everything down in the 1960s and put up that monstrosity of a building.

I thought of pubs and houses and people living there, dying there, worshiping there. I thought of how Beacon Hill was once upon a time full of immigrants struggling to make a living and how now you can't buy a townhouse for less than a cool million.

A building I hope never to enter, houses I will never own, and a worship space that isn't mine but made me feel welcome. A pretty good day in Boston, if you ask me.

coffee

When my husband arrived home from work this evening he asked me if I had made coffee this morning. I told him that I did not. He looked at me funny and asked "well, who made coffee this morning?"

Geoff then walked through the room and I asked him if he made the pot of coffee. He was up exceptionally early because he decided that today he'd ride his bike to school, and work out in the gym for an hour before school started. Which meant he'd have to leave here at about 5:30 to be there on time.

"Um, no! I didn't make coffee. Dad must have been sleep walking this morning and completely forgets that he came down and made coffee. It wasn't me."

Doug and I looked at each other and I said to Geoff "can you just say yeah, you made it, so we could thank you? It was very good coffee."

He smiled and said "Yeah, I made it. Did I do a good job?"

Yes, except for the mess he made and sort of half assedly cleaned up. We'll do a clinic in coffee making so he does it a little better. He walked away smiling.

It's so weird, if you're a long time reader of this blog and by that I mean like 10 years, to have come to this spot in his life. I kind of like him. He's amazing.

It is almost like I'm a werewolf...

As you may recall, dear readers who aren't spam monkeys (whoever you are that keeps leaving 50 comments a day that I have to mark as spam, I'd like for you to stop, please),  in August 2011 I had surgery to stop the growth of a rather naughty fibroid.

Things seemed to go well but 4 months later things were not so awesome, and the hoped for results never really resulted. I forget what month I went in for a follow up MRI, but they discovered my body was very smart and re-routed the blood supply around the man-made blockage (called a uterine artery embolism, or UAE) to supply food to the fibroid and keep it growing.

It was actually bigger, not smaller, and all that surgery fun was for naught.

My surgeon and I discussed what I should do. He suggested we apply "watchful waiting," and just see if my body decided to rethink its decision. Or, call my ob-gyn and talk about a hysterectomy.

I opted for the former, because I really didn't want to have more surgery. It isn't like going to a hotel or vacation. I'd rather go to a hotel or vacation. And I really do not like the concepts of 4 weeks minimal recovery time.

So, that brings us to now, and we are rethinking this Watchful Waiting approach and today I'm headed to the doctor to talk about surgery... My body is still held hostage by the fibroid and its unrelenting "FEED ME" philosophy. My period is still no fun, (not that they ever truly are but ... I never had an un-fun experience like this before) as things are getting worse and worse for me.

It is almost like being a werewolf two days out of the month. I can't work, I can't focus, I literally cannot leave the house. I schedule my life around when I think I'm going to get my period. I feel like the knight in C.S. Lewis' "The Silver Chair" where I have to be strapped into a chair until the horrors run their courses.

So... that's what's going on today. I'd much rather it not be going on. But I think wishing at this point is fruitless... may as well make use of the resources available to me and go see my doctor, and find out what a good plan is. Wish me luck.

This Past Week...

I think The Onion, America's Finest News Source, summed up this week very well. Click here to read if you like. 

And to echo it, Jeeesusss this week. What a week.

You all know what happened nearby to where I live. For those of you wondering geographically, I'm up north of Boston, south of the NH border. Thirty miles difference between me and the big to-do that went down this week. On Monday Jess and I were headed to work, and the town we work in is on the Boston Marathon route. I told her we had to be clear from the house here by 8am to not only get her to work on time but to avoid road closures and obstacles that would prevent us from getting to the office. We made it, but saw a couple of ramp closures and state troopers keeping traffic from coming off of the highway and the back up was starting to get huge ... we made it by the skin of our teeth I think.

Work was uneventful. Kids, cooking, parents and grandparents with them in the kitchen, phone ringing, email answering. The usual every day laughs with Jo, the usual every day adventures that we undertake on a daily basis.

Shortly after the early afternoon classes wrapped up, our Knife Sharpener person was sitting in the office and said "Facebook? Do you have nothing to do but be on Facebook at work?" Truth be told, I had just tweeted something from our account, cross posted something to our business Facebook page, and I was staring at my news feed... and words were on the screen that I didn't expect to see.


I tried to go to Boston.com and heard Renee at the front desk say that she couldn't get a call out to her husband, and that WCVB.com was saying there was a bombing at the marathon finish line.

Honestly, I will say that initially I thought maybe this was some sort of domestic "right wing" terrorism because of the date on the calendar... April 15th. During this week historically, a ton of really horrible things have happened in the USA that have nothing to do with radical Islam or Arabs or anyone other than Americans... Ruby Ridge, Waco, Columbine, Oklahoma City... what am I missing? April 19 and 20th always make me nervous (by the way, I consider myself a Libertarian, not a Liberal Democrat so don't say I'm some sort of Liberal Whacko accusing the Right of doing wrong...) so I was initially worried that this wasn't the usual "date" to expect something to blow up, but it was indeed a very unique opportunity to wreak havoc.

Suffice to say, as the suspects' story unfolded, I still wasn't surprised at what was discovered either...

Friday morning as I went to get out of bed, the radio was on and I heard that my work town was under a "shelter in place" order along with other towns surrounding Watertown. I texted Jo and asked her if she was watching the news... she closed the office, Doug's boss called a little before 7 to tell him not to come in either. Doug and I planted on the couch as I monitored my facebook feed and we listened to the Boston police scanner and watched the news. The police scanner was usually 15 minutes or more ahead of what was being reported on the TV so that was an interesting listen.

Strangely, as all of this was going down, for me Facebook was the place to be. Several friends were in the neighborhood of the activities, several were far away, several were freaking out and several were cracking wise and making jokes. Gallows humor reigns amongst most of my friends. Some of my friends on the left and right were politicizing the events. Some were praying. Some were dead silent and had nothing to add and I wanted to hear from them. I got messages from friends around the world asking if we were impacted at all by this Friday development, from Denmark, Sweden, New Zealand and South Africa.

I was surprised when they lifted the shelter in place order, and within minutes all fresh hell broke lose and the excitement rekindled. What happens next will be interesting to see.

I don't have much else to say because I'm still trying to process things in my head and heart.

Today, April 21st, is the 12th anniversary of the death of my best friend. Doug and I took a wonderful long walk in Gloucester today and I thought of the Counting Crows... "It's been so long since I've seen the ocean, I guess I should." I think my take away from the events of this stupid week are that I should do things like go see the ocean, take opportunities to do life affirming activities, and get off of my couch. I may never run a marathon - but I can get up and go... and will.

Bike

Geoff told me last week that his bike seat was not stable. I tried to fix it but didn't have the right tools. We're a tool challenged family, Doug has a tool kit but it only contains "normal" things. Not things that go into bolt heads that are star shaped with thingies sticking out of them. Not fancy wrenches that are specific metric sizes. We have a phillips and flat head screw driver and a hammer. If you need a tool other than that, you're calling a professional.

Last week we took his bike to the bike shop to get it fixed. They gave it a complete spring cleaning and overhaul/tune up. We just went and picked it up and the smile on his face as he got up on the seat was infectious.

Geoff loves his bike. I bought him this GIANT huge bike (made by a company called Giant, how appropo) hoping he'd never outgrow the frame. He looks HUGE on this bike right now, I can't believe how Giant my Giant kid is.

He rode away from the bike store and I drove past him, watching him in my rear view mirror. He still had that shit eating grin on his face, ear to ear. It warmed my heart and soul.

the bank that shall not be named update

So it has been a long time, hasn't it, since I mentioned the situation with our mortgage. I put a self-imposed gag order on my writing since they pulled all my entries about the situation out in the deposition in 2012. I've never self censored but ... here I did. I don't have much to say about it, except that it continues.

On Tuesday we have a court date where our lawyer and their lawyer meet up and I guess they go before a judge and argue the case. Neither Doug nor I will be there. We don't have to be. So my heart goes with my lawyer and my hopes are that our arguments are sufficient.

Our position hasn't changed, and neither has "The Bank That Shall Not Be Named" as my friend David called them. I want to be confident in this and say this will be the big thing that fixes all but I'm so sad and worn down from this that I honestly can't say that.

So I'm asking that you pray for me, and for Doug and for our lawyer. Remember, I've called our lawyer "my Gandalf." And Doug is my Samwise. I'm still feeling as low as Frodo before making it to Mt. Doom, and I feel we're still stuck long before the part where the ring gets thrown into the mountain... not for lack of trying but ... you know what I mean.

And then I got to thinking about the subject of prayer. Not just in this instance, but in all instances in life.  The other night I was listening to late night/early morning AM radio and Coast to Coast was on. I love that show when they're talking crazy crap about space aliens and shadow people and UFOs and the like. George Noory had a guy on who was talking about how he just thinks about something and it comes true. I don't remember the details, but he said he wanted to take a vacation and an hour later he had someone hand him plane tickets to Florida. He wanted something else and wished for it. And it happened.

He was telling the listeners that all they had to do was think about it, wish for it, without breaking a sweat, and it would happen.

That's dangerous and that's bullshit.

Now, several of you who are friends with me disagree with me about God, even his existence. But I believe in Him, and I believe in prayer. I don't believe that you ask God or the Universe or Mojo Jojo or whatever you want to call it for something so specific that it just shows up.

I don't believe in the Joel Osteen "believe in it and it will happen!" kind of prayers. I don't believe in this just think about it hard enough and it will happen! If that were the case, this would all be over by now.

When I was in college, we had a dean of chapel who would stand up and preach really hard, with amazing fervent passion, and he told us all that if our prayers aren't coming true, it's because our God isn't big enough in our heart or minds. We have to believe harder!   How painfully sad. How ill advised to tell a 19 year old that his or her prayers are not being answered because their God "isn't big enough." Over and over again I heard this, and I do know that several people surrounding me at that time gave up, literally gave up on their relationship with God.

If believing something and praying about it would fix things, no child would be dead in Africa from starvation or AIDS or war. You think those guys don't pray hard enough? How arrogant to think that your prayers here in the USA for something would be granted because you prayed harder than a child in Darfur, so you win. You got that job promotion. You got that bargain on the new car that saved you money. Aww yeah. How horrible. 8 billion of us on this earth and you prayed that traffic would be good for you this morning and you got to the meeting on time even though YOU were the idiot who overslept because you drank too much. Sorry, little kid sitting in a pile of shit with flies all over her eyeballs. My prayer got answered.

I think I've prayed hard enough that things should start exploding around me like Freaking Drew Barrymore in "Firestarter" if wishing and deep passion about this subject were the case.

You'd better believe it'd be over with if only my prayers were counted as part of the situation.

I was taught another way of praying. You never ask God to give you what you want. You let God know what your feelings are, what your needs are, and then you ASK that His will be done, and your heart be open to it, even if it doesn't match your personal vision. You ask that God's will be done. Period. I pray for the other lawyers as well as my lawyer. I pray for the judge, I pray for all parties involved.

And if you are from the Bank That Shall Not Be Named lawyer's office, as I do know that y'all have read my journal in the past and are probably still reading it, do know that I pray for you, whether or not you believe in God. I just want  everyone to be happy, I want everything to be satisfactory. I want for love and peace and justice. I want what Micah tells us God requires of us, that we love justice, do mercy and walk humbly with Him.

And I ask you echo. Thanks.