My sister made this Easter cake especially for my daughter.  The cake itself was yummy, but we've been saving the egg itself because it's so cute.  When my sister brought the cake over, she told Audrey that the egg was a dinosaur egg, and that's why it's so much bigger than the bunny.  So when we finally decided to crack into the egg today, Audrey was surprised to see that it was made of rice crispies.  "Where's the dinosaur?!"  Gotta love her.

a closer look

To write or not to write. THAT is the question.

image source here

Yesterday was the first day of Beyond Blogging for Scrapbookers.  I got so caught up in looking through people's blogs that I 1) didn't get to write my own entry, and 2) forgot to feed my kid lunch.  Yeah... it was probably a good thing that she was going to be with her grandmother for the rest of the day.  

Quite a few people wrote about how they started blogging and why.  I wrote my own version of it about a year ago and I had to go back and re-read it.  It's fascinating how different my thoughts are now from what they were back then.  Yes, blogging is still a good way for me to "focus", but I wonder how much of that has kept me from writing these past few months.   Could I have written more if I wasn't so busy censoring myself?

I started out blogging as a way to get in touch with some people working through Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way.  Once I felt more comfortable sharing my writing, it became a way to let friends and distant family know what was going on in my family's life.  One thing was certain, I wrote quite sporadically.  Not only would I disappear for indeterminate lengths of time, but I would be full of optimism one minute and doom and gloom the next.  My sister once told me she could tell when I was depressed from reading my entries. That brought me here.  

I originally created this new(er) blog in hopes to stay away from any negativity on my part.  I wasn't quite sure WHAT I would be writing about, but I knew I wanted to focus on the positive.  I was even doing alright for a while until the end of November and the entire month of December.  How could I stay positive after that?  And so I stopped writing.  Again.  I mean, who wants to read about depression?  But now I wonder.  Is it possible to avoid writing about it when I DO suffer from depression?  I STILL want to focus on the positive side of my life.  Surely, I can find something to write about that won't bring everyone down.  If nothing else, I could always post a photograph instead.  So here I am now.  Taking yet another class.  Hoping that it will help me find my online voice.  I know I want to write.  I know I love to read creative and inspiring blogs.  I DON'T want to be a downer.  But could I really still find my voice if I omit a part of myself?  How does one decide what to keep in and what to leave out?  What would you do? 

I guess it's a good thing I've signed up for this class. =)

Getting back in

IMG_7668, a photo by NurseNinja on Flickr.

As I've mentioned a couple of posts back, I've been a bit stuck.  Lora had a wonderful suggestion of maybe trying NaBloPoMo, but I think I'll take it a little slower.  As tough as I can get with myself, I think that a daily entry may be too much for me to handle at this time.  I would like to attempt it again at some point, though.  Perhaps by this summer?  We'll see.  For now, I've gone a different route.  Another class to try.  

Shimelle is starting  a new class on Monday, and I've decided to join in.  I really enjoyed the previous classes as can be seen by some of my initial posts, so I figured, why not?  It's a good way to get back into blogging, and there isn't the kind of "pressure" I put on myself with NaBloPoMo.  As much as I've fallen behind on some of Shimelle's classes, I love the fact that I can go back to the lessons any time I want to.  In fact, I probably will be revisiting those prompts this upcoming year.  So, here's hoping that Beyond Blogging for Scrapbookers will get the writing juices flowing again.  If nothing else, I suppose I could just post a few more random photos. =)  

I haven't been this excited about posting in a while.  I'm looking forward to it.   

"A weed is but an unloved flower." --Ella Wheeler Wilcox

"A weed is but an unloved flower." --Ella Wheeler Wilcox, a photo by NurseNinja on Flickr.

Stuck

Stuck, a photo by NurseNinja on Flickr.

I've been wanting/itching to get my blogging restarted, but I can't seem to find the words lately. I've got all kinds of topics and ideas, but I just can't seem to get unstuck. I'm hoping that in a month, I'll be posting more regularly.

At the Iao Valley

At the Iao Needle, a photo by NurseNinja on Flickr.

The test

steps leading out of the Cathedral chapel at the USAFAcademy Chapel

Less than a week from my last post, our world turned upside down.  I always said that my life could be a soap opera.  What I would give for a normal life.  

Dec. 4th.  My sister called my husband in hysterics-- her husband, J,  suffered a gun shot wound.  Chris had no idea where she was calling from and what condition J was in.  I called her back, hoping she would answer the phone.  She was home.  

When I got to her apartment, the cops were blocking her doorway, and my sister sat slumped in front of her car, wearing someone else's clothes.  Her own clothes were too bloody.  No one would give her answers.  J was already taken to the trauma center.  We drove there and were met by one of their close friends who just happens to be a physician.  He pulled us aside, tried to calm my sister, and asked if she wanted to see him.  "He only has a little time left," he said.  My sister collapsed  to the ground and screamed J's name.  We were able to get her a wheelchair to the trauma room where he lay. 

I always thought that when an emergency arose, my nursing instinct would kick in and I would be calm, clinical.  Boy was I wrong.  Seeing him laying on that gurney with blood dripping down to the floor... hearing the breath get knocked out of my sister... I couldn't help but sob.  I had only enough sense to grab a chair for my sister and hold her up as she cried out his name and grabbed his hand.  Their pastor, who followed us to the hospital, sat by J's ear and read scripture.  J's mother, also a nurse, stood on the other side, humming a lullaby.  The respirator breathed for him, monitors above him showed his vital signs. 

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He was 29.  I've known him since he was 15 and lived in the house across from ours.  He was just the punk kid dating my sister.  A few years later he became one of our closest friends and even moved into my home and lived there for almost a year.  He was a groomsman in our wedding.  He videotaped my daughter's birth.  I never referred to him as my brother-in-law, always he was my brother.  

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He died at about 2:23PM.  The last thing I remembered doing was wiping a trickle of blood from his ear.  

_______

We were going to put our tree up early this year.  We were going to do it that weekend, in fact.  Instead I spent the next few nights with my sister, staying up on watch, making sure she was eating, drinking, even taking a shower. Christmas shopping be damned.  Luckily, we had a few things ordered early for a few people.  The kids should at least have their presents.

I said I wouldn't let fear or discomfort get in my way again.  But did I really need to be tested so soon?  For two weeks I was surrounded by prayer.  I watched as their pastor spent hours on end consoling my sister and J's family.  I stood there as people prayed all around me.  I even attended their church for a sermon dedicated to J.  Ironically, I missed my friend's burial that day. I knew she would forgive me, knowing that I had to stand with my sister on her first day to church without J.

I used to tease my sister that she joined a cult.  I have never been happier that she found religion.  It was the one thing that truly held her up during this ordeal.  

________

The day before the burial, I was at the cemetery for J's private viewing.  I knew R was buried there and asked for directions to her grave.  When I looked at the piece of paper they gave me, I thought that maybe I was remembering some things incorrectly.  We drove up to her grave.  Sure enough, it was in the same area that J was to be buried the next day.  As I got closer, tears began to well up.  Could it be?  The freshest grave was kitty corner to J's.  As I reached J's grave, I walked a few steps and looked at the flowers on the nearby grave.  There was the wreath my co-workers and I ordered for R.  There was her name plate.  R.G.  37 years old.  What are the chances?  Yes, it was one of the newer areas of the cemetery.  But for the corners to be touching?  

J's father came by.  They wanted to see where J was going to be buried the next day.  Their family was confused.  Why was I crying on this other grave?  When I told them about my friend, he said, "There is no such thing as coincidence."  

Perhaps not.  
_________

We put our tree up on the 21st.  Audrey was excited to find that Santa got the presents she "always wanted!"  There were tears on Christmas day.  But there was also a lot of laughter.  We'll miss you, J.  We'll move on, but you'll always be in our hearts.