Charity's Crazy Beautiful Life

Long night, long story, Southern BBQ and a great Sunday service.

Hello all. It's Sunday evening here. We did go out today to do our Zaleski outing, but it was pretty low key. We were able to find a Southern BBQ place just about 5 minutes from our house, thanks to our neighbors! Imagine that, Southern BBQ in Japan!?!

You see, when we lived in Montgomery, we had a favorite BBQ place. Jim N' Nicks. Just the other day as we were eating dinner, Colby - out of the blue - said, "Mom, I miss Jim N' Nicks". Funny, the things kids miss about a place. I miss it too. But fortunately, we found this place called NAPS on the Navy's Camp Shields that is just a hop, skip and a -- not even a jump from our base. And the BBQ, although was NO Jim N' Nicks, was actually pretty darn good. And they had sweet tea! And it was just so comforting to see all the names like "Bama Beef Sandwich" and "Alabama Pulled Pork". And imagine, I'm not even from Alabama. But Alabama sure does have a special place in my heart. (Makes me wonder what places my kids will miss when we leave here...)

So anyhow, we had a long night last night. Which is a long story. But sometimes, a long night and a long story can turn into a bad day. Often times, right? Well, that could have been the case today. Should have been the case today. But it wasn't. After having that Southern BBQ for lunch that made me feel the most "at home" since I've been here, I took the kids out to run some errands. Back to the 100 Yen store to finish up some gift shopping, while we let our tired daddy take a long nap.

Then, we met back up with Craig and were all off to 5 o'clock mass. But I was tired. After our long story and long night, I really felt like taking a long bath and going to bed for a long night's sleep. But I didn't. Something was calling.  

I don't know about you, but when I'm in church, I try my best to find a blessing that touches my heart and speaks to my soul. To let something... be it a prayer, a song, a reading of the scripture, the message being taught, or even an encounter with a fellow church member-- that I can tuck into my pocket and walk away with. Something that will help me through my week. Something that is applicable. Often times, it's more than one thing in one service. Other times, I have to work hard to be "touched" -- and I think on those days, it's because of my attitude or outlook going into church. And on other days, all of the readings and scriptures and songs and the message and encounters all line up and hit home - completely in a way that you know was intended and couldn't have been by accident or coincidence. 

And even though I went into church today with the attitude that should have left me searching for the message...and even though I really didn't want to be there...that's what happened today. I'm grateful that it did. Because I really needed that today.

And because it did -- when I really needed it to -- and I almost didn't even go -- I felt I should share this list with you. This is a list that was printed inside of our bulletin tonight. And I thought it was so fitting to my day - my experience in church - to the last few months (half a year really). The next time I am thinking of not going to church, I'm going to pull this list out. Because there's never a time when I don't need a good dose of the Lord. Especially on my bad days after long nights and long stories! It's days like this that I need God much more than Southern BBQ, Sweet Tea and the 100 Yen store. Just sometimes, I forget. So when I do...

POINTS TO PONDER

You say: "It's impossible" -- God says: All things are possible (Luke 18:27)

You say: "I'm too tired" --  God says: I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28-30)

You say: "Nobody really loves me" -- God says: I love you (John 3:16 & John 13:34)

You say: "I can't go on" -- God says: My grace is sufficient (II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15)

You say: "I can't figure things out" -- God says: I will direct your steps (Proverbs 3:5-6)

You say: "I can't do it" -- God says: You can do all things (Philippians 4:13)

You say: "I'm not able" -- God says: I am able (II Corinthians 9:8)

You say: "It's not worth it" -- God says: It will be worth it (Roman 8:28)

You say: "I can't forgive myself" -- God says: I FORGIVE YOU (1 John 1:9 & Romans 8:1)

You say: "I can't manage" -- God says: I will supply all your needs (Philippians 4:19)

You say: "I'm afraid" -- God says: I have not given you a spirit of fear (II Timothy 1:7)

You say: "I'm always worried and frustrated" -- God says: Cast all your cares on ME (I Peter 5:7)

You say: "I don't have enough faith" -- God says: I've given everyone a measure of faith (Romans 12:3)

You say: "I'm not smart enough" -- God says: I give you wisdom (I Corinthians 1:30)

You say: "I feel alone" -- God says: I will never leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5)

PCS Purgatory -- MY side of the story -- part 4

Click to read part one, part two or part three.

It was mid-March, and at the moment the judge was telling us her decision, I was at peace.  Which was odd. Weird, but nice. Especially considering just moments before I was nervous and fidgety. A minute before, I had knots in my stomach and couldn't believe that I was even in court. I really couldn't believe that I had to be in court -- asking that a judge grant me, a military wife, permission to move my son to the Air Force Base in Japan that my husband had been assigned to.

*

But... it was what it was...the situation I was in. An accumulation of my life choices. So I gave it up to God and was at peace the moment the judge told us that...

Yes, we had permission to relocate to Japan with my son, Daziel.

{Sigh} Breathe. Oh, relief!

The judge ordered that my son's father sign the passport paperwork within two days. Pretty much everything else in our parenting plan that had to be changed was due to the distance we were going to be from my boy's father. I will spare you all the legal details, but it all worked out really well in the end. Everything that I was asking for -- I was asking for my son. And pretty much everything I asked for -- was granted.

I couldn't believe it! As I walked out of the courtroom, I was relieved and in disbelief. I couldn't believe that there wasn't a hitch or a hold-up.  That everything had gone so smoothly! After all of the kinks and wrong turns...after all the stress and worry that had been a part of this PCS process for us...it was weird to feel that everything had gone so right. That it looked like there might actually be a "light at the end of the tunnel".

And... as I walked out of the courtroom, I felt bad. I felt bad for questioning. For wondering if things would all work out. I felt bad that God had been so good to me, to my family...and that I hadn't trusted Him to do so all along. And as I walked away from the courthouse that day, I had a little talk with my God. "Lesson learned."

Two days later we got the signed paperwork. Whew, what a relief! But that wasn't the end of it. We had to overnight that paperwork to the agent at our departing base (who was still back in Alabama) so she could overnight it to the State Department where it could be added to the paperwork we had already sent in to start the process. It was supposed to be expedited...processed, approved, and then made into my boy's military passport. We knew that we were dealing with government agencies, and it is peak time for military families to be moving, so we expected that this would still take a few weeks. A month, maybe.

But my husband didn't have a month. Even though things were looking on the bright side, he still had to leave. He had a report no later than date and had to be in Japan by the end of March. But even so, we were still floating on happy thoughts and good vibes because we knew we would be "good to go" soon!

A few days after that, we had to drive to Seattle to take my husband to the airport. He had to leave us so he could do his duty, his job in the Air Force. On one hand, we were still happy that things turned out so well in court just days earlier. But on the other, and on that day, we were a little bummed. We are a military family. And we were excited to be on this journey together. Excited to fly together to our new base in a new country. Excited to get to experience all the "new" things...new house, new car, new neighbors, new (and the list goes on)...together, as a family.  But we tried not to stay in that bummed-out frame of mind for long. Instead of counting the things we were disappointed in, we decided to count our blessings...because after all, we knew that things could definitely be worse!

So, my dear husband was off! He flew to Japan. Alone. I stayed in the northwest, along with three of our kids (remember, Killian lives in Georgia with his mother) and our dog. We decided to make the best of our "waiting game". We started one more round of visits to all of my family (large family) while we waited on Daziel's passport to process. I homeschooled the kids. We waited. We traveled. We waited. We visited more family while we waited some more.

In the meantime, I called our agent weekly to check on the passport's status. She assured me that she'd let me know as soon as it came in. But week after week, I didn't hear from her. And when I didn't, I called. I had to know. I hoped that we would be in Japan, back together as a family, by Easter. 

Nope. Easter came and went and still no passport. Not even a word about a passport. I started calling our agent twice a week. And bless her heart, she was so understanding! She had no control over how fast or slow this would be. But she continued to try to get ahold of the State Department weekly to check on it's progress. And each and every time, we got the same answer back. "It's still being processed".  I was beginning to lose patience. When was this going to end? Why was it taking so long? When would we get to leave? Why did this road have to be so long?

I started thinking, "What, God, am I supposed to be learning here? I'll learn it! Please, I'll do whatever it takes...just let us go...I want to be with my husband." I was tired of living like gypsies...living out of suitcases, staying with this sister or that one...I just wanted to be "home" with my husband.

But still, no passport came...

(To be continued...)

*Pictures are from the "photo shoot" talked about here.

PCS Purgatory -- MY side of the story -- part 3

If you haven't yet (and would like to) read the first parts to our PCS Purgatory story, click here:

part one

part two 

When I left off last, I was talking about the first of the year and how things were hectic as we were in the midst of leaving Alabama on our military move to Japan. We were busy with packers and movers and boxes and goodbyes. Life "in the moment" had taken control; we were busy with the things at hand. It was hard to think ahead to visiting family and international flights when we had to deal with other things that were more pressing. Things like how it was taking three days for our packers to box up our belongings when they had scheduled for one. 

Like how it was harder to take apart our home -- to take down decorations, paint walls back to "air force white", and say goodbye to the house that had become our home. Generally speaking, when we move into a base house, I intentionally do my best to turn it into something special, something we feel proud to call home. For me, that's the easy part. But when we leave, I have to paint it all back and return it to that generic base house that we first walked into -- for the next Airman who will call that house their home.

Is doing all that... is it physically hard? Not nearly as much as it is emotionally difficult.

And as we continued saying our goodbyes in Montgomery, I began to realize something.  I realized that every other military move we have done... I have felt ready for it. That doesn't mean that I loved moving away from family or friends, or that the move was easy. But I knew it was "time" for a new chapter in our life, in our military journey. This time around, it didn't feel like that to me. I had gotten so settled and secure in my life, in our lives, and it hurt me to move away. It was the hardest move I've ever done. And I can't pinpoint why. All I knew was that one night, when I looked out my window and thought, 'I am even going to miss the Alabama sky'...I realized that I was grieving, and that would take some time to process.

 

But time we didn't' have. Our move was in full swing and we still weren't getting the cooperation we needed to get my oldest son's passport. Like I said before, I was worried about what our options were. And added to all the normal stresses of an overseas move... to the movers and packers and goodbyes... was this mess with the passport.

{Sigh} How did this get to be so messy?

I don't know.  But I did know that I was running out of time. That we were planning to spend a month visiting family, and that my husband, my airman, had to report to Japan by the end of March. And that a passport would take about that long to get.

{Sigh again} I started to get worried. What if we couldn't get the passport? What if we couldn't get the signature that we needed? Could Craig turn down his orders or ask for something different? Maybe, but that would not be good for his career, which in turn means that it wouldn't be good for our family. Not to mention, he could ask to turn it down, but it wasn't a guarantee. He had turned down his one-year remote orders to Korea back in 1999, when Allyssa was a newborn baby. Six months later, he had them again -- those same exact orders!

I felt like the well-being of our family rested on my shoulders. That figuring out how to make this move happen -- for us all to be together -- was my job. I asked around for advise, called air force organizations, and went onto a military website in Okinawa and posted questions on their discussion boards. No one that I talked to had ever been in our exact situation. The few people that had somewhat similar stories talked about leaving their child behind with the other parent.

Wow...I was starting to get worried. Unless forced, that was not an option for me. Not for my son or for my family. And what was frustrating was that my oldest -- he was excited about this move. He is looking forward to it. And above all else...that boy and me... we are a family. He's always lived with me. And it's not just me, but his brother and sister...

and the step-dad that he often call's "dad". Craig and I were married when he was 18 months old; it's what he's always known. I was going to do everything I could to keep it that way. Everything I could do to let him know that even though his dad and I weren't agreeing, that none of this...nothing...was his fault. And that we all love him very, very much! I still needed to figure out what to do...

But how? I wasn't sure. I prayed about it and days later, in the middle of a real "low" spot, while I was doing laundry and singing some of my favorite praise songs -- the obvious answer came to me.  Let go and let God -- and get a LAWYER!! So, I spent a few really long days doing some research.

We hired a lawyer in the State of Washington (where my parenting plan for my oldest was filed -- hence, where the case has jurisdiction) and where we were soon going to be visiting family.  I found out that I really needed to update the parenting plan (it's called that because we were never married) that was drawn up ten years ago. That it would need to provide information about how we would work things out (i.e. visitation, the cost of transportation, etc.) while I was in Japan. I also found out that I could file an Intent to Relocate with the court. And since there was a bit of resistance...and I needed a signature for my boy's passport...my lawyer suggested going to court to get the relocation approved.

So, that was a very nerve-wracking step. Hiring the lawyer and filing all of that paperwork. I prayed. I questioned all of it. I wondered, "what am I doing -- having to go to court over THIS??"  I got angry over the thousands of dollars that was being spent. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I handling Daziel's dad in the right way? I prayed some more. I ran through scenarios in my head -- about what if the relocation was not approved? What if my family has to be split up? 

I also thought about how this was affecting my son. Was he feeling like this was his fault? He knew now that we all had our passports, but that he was still waiting on his. I talked to him about how he needed his dad's "go ahead". I tried my best to be neutral when I was talking to him about it. I tried to give him the information that his (then) eleven-year-old questions warranted without tainting it by my views or feelings and without giving him too much information. But on the flip side, I couldn't leave him hanging. He was asking questions, and he deserved some answers.

I tried, with all my motherly love, to make it all better for my boy. And it broke my heart when I could see -- in his demeanor -- that it was hurting him. And that...that hurt me! I prayed more and more. I didn't know why this obstacle was in my path, but I prayed for the courage and strength to go through it all.

This move was so stressful, and my anxiety level was rising. We saw Killian for the last time and said very sad "see you soon"'s to him. As we traveled from Alabama to Wisconsin...from warm weather to snow...I was met with even more hurdles...the anniversary of my step-dads death, saying hello's and then shortly after, goodbye's, to family...things that would normally be hard. Stressful. But with everything else on my plate, it all seemed to be such a huge weight. So hard to deal with. Such a heavy burden.  

Despite, I tried my best to keep a positive attitude. To be happy for my family while we were traveling. To not let the stress get to me. I look back now, and I don't know that I always succeeded. 

During the weeks leading up to our court date... the date set to see if the judge would grant me, a military wife, permission to move my son to the Air Force Base in Japan that my husband had been assigned to... my stomach was in knots. I was beginning to see physical sings of the stress that I was enduring. It wasn't good.

I don't know exactly how I made it through that hard month of sleepless nights. Yes... I do. The Grace of God. Because He doesn't give us anything that we cannot handle. Because eventually, in there, I was able to take some deep breathes and know that I no longer had control. That there wasn't anything more I could do about it, and that the outcome was going to be what it was going to be.

On my way into the courtroom on that March morning, just days before our scheduled flight to Japan, the knots in my stomach started to return.  So over and over in my head I recited The Serenity Prayer. As cliche as it may seem, it was helpful. The repeated...

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

It helped. As I sat in that courtroom...my mom and my husband by my side... with my son's father, waiting for the judge to tell us her ruling on the parenting plan and the request to relocate, I had peace before I ever even knew the outcome.. 

(to be continued...)

PCS Purgatory -- MY side of the story -- part 1

First off -- a few clarifications. I need clarifications because without them, my mind is hazy and I can't think strait. So clear mind; hopefully clear thoughts.

(Our stuff nearly all packed in Alabama -- February, 2009.)

So to clear it up for those of you who aren't familiar to military acronyms, PCS means Permanent Change of Station. My husband, Craig, is in the Air Force and we are in the middle of PCSing (or, moving) from our last base in Alabama to his new duty station in Okinawa, Japan. And just so you know, it is not normal for a PCS to take this long. We are the exception, not the rule.

Another thing I'd like to clarify is -- that I'm Catholic. I'm not poking fun or making jokes when I call this our PCS Purgatory. I do chuckle a bit at my "inside joke". But really, some people have been calling this our PCS from hell, or have been telling me that I am in PCS hell. But really, I'm a bit more optimistic than that. Hell seems so...so horrible and sad and hot and miserable. Hell seems so damned and definite, so final. That's not what this "journey" has been like. At different times it has been trying, unexpected, frustrating, difficult, and even a bit painful. But in the end, I know that there will be a good outcome because I am faithful, hopeful, and ever the optimist. 

That is how I relate this PCS to purgatory; because it's been a longer process than expected. We thought there wouldn't be any hangups and we'd just get to where we are going (Japan) without an issue -- without having to "do time".  Obviously, that was not the case. But even though it hasn't been, and this move has been emotional and hard at times, I believe that it's all happened with a purpose. We -- my family -- have had some hard lessons to learn. But when it's all over and done and we are on the other end talking about this PCS, we will be feeling very blessed. Blessed to be back together again -- as one family. Blessed to have gone through this eye opening experience because it has given us a greater appreciation for many things. And as a Catholic, that too is what I believe that purgatory is about. I'm not going to preach about that, because really, I wouldn't do it justice. But if you're curious, I think this article explains it really well. 

Ok, enough of that -- lets start this thing... 

I'm going to start by telling you what's current; the news of the hour. I just booked our flight yesterday, and the kids and I will OFFICIALLY be flying to Japan on July 5th.

Now, lets back up.  We (with Craig) originally left Alabama on February 19th to begin our trek across the country. We thought that we would spend a month traveling to visit family. We would drive to Wisconsin to visit Craig's family and then to the Northwest to visit mine.  Our thought was that that would take a month, then we'd be off -- on our mary little way -- to Japan. Together. As one big happy family.

So, have you ever had a time in your life where you had plans -- and they got TOTALLY turned upside down, inside out, and then rung out? Well, yeah! That's what happened with us and this move...

Craig did leave for Japan when we had originally planned that we all would. He had to. He was on military orders and had to "report to duty" -- because that's the way the military works. He left here on March 19th, which means he has been in Japan for almost three months. Three months without us. Three months alone, in a new country, apart from his family.

Why didn't we go? Why did the kids and I have to stay in the states?

Well, it all begins with...a passport...

(to be continued tomorrow)

Soup and Stations

So, many of you have been asking for the Southwest Chicken Soup recipe that I've come up with this winter.  And if you haven't been asking for it, you'll be glad that I'm gonna give it to you anyways. Because people, this soup is scrumptious I tell you! 

And guess what?  I made it today, took pictures (well, Allyssa took pictures), and plan to post it as soon as I edit the pictures and organize my thoughts.  Because, you know, taking pictures of a recipe step-by-step is harder than you'd think!  Really, not joking here folks!  It reminds me of something we did in school once.  Did you ever have that assignment where you had to write step-by-step instructions of making or doing something?  Something easy, like, making a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich?  'Cause, how hard is it to make a PB&J?  Then, someone else had to stand up in front of the entire class and make the sandwich based on your instructions... and you found out, as early as step 2, that your instructions weren't that great.  Because, after stating in step 1 to get out a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jelly and a butter knife, you realized that you had faltered in your directions.  How can you falter in a PB&J?  Well, when you say to spread the peanut butter all over the place.  Not thinking that the dimwit in the front of the class would take that literally, when you really meant "all over the place (on the bread)"and thought that every normal human would understand that.  Then again, twelve year old boys are not that normal, are they?  So, you have a clowny 12-year-old up in front of the class spreading peanut butter all over the table, a class laughing, and a teacher frowning because you weren't that great at writing instructions.  So, did that ever happen to you? No, me either!  Nope, not me! And, I intend to keep it that way, thank you very much.  And...that was a very long way of saying that I wanted to check my measurements and instructions before I posted them for you, so you won't be spreading peanut butter all over your counters.

And, as a prelude (because I haven't said enough already) to that fabulous recipe, I want to explain why I've been making so much soup this winter...and yes, I did just call my own recipe, fabulous, thank you!  I know, I know, modest.

So, most of you know that I wasn't raised Catholic.  No siree, not me. I was born in a tee pee to hippie parents, and on Sunday they...(I'm sure you can imagine what their Sundays were filled with.  And if you're an extremely sheltered type, or a prude, or just plain stupid...just use your imagination.)  So, anyhow, I did not grow up Catholic.  Nor did I really know much about church in general until my teen years, after I left the mountains of my youth and moved to the "city" where I learned what Keds and church were...but I won't go on about that, we'll save that story for another time.  So, after Craig (he's my husband in case you didn't know) and I got married, we were talking religion.  I know, I know, I hear several of you screaming already.  We should have talked about this BEFORE we got married.  Along with about ten million other things, people! But, we were young, and in love, and...stupid, and we didn't.  So, we talked about it after we got married.  And, come to find out, he was a good ole' Catholic boy.  Raised Catholic.  Went to a Catholic school until 8th grade.  And insisted on raising our children Catholic.  Since I didn't feel that I had firm roots in a religion, I didn't feel the need to object.  And, because I thought that my husband was such a swell guy that was obviously raised with great morals and values, was a hard worker, and had an inexplicably yummy derriere, I decided to go along with this. 

At first, I did not know much about the Catholic Church.  So, we went to church, as a family.  I did not decide to join the church until about five years later.  And now, about five years after that, I am really finally taking the time to get to know "my church" and it's many rich, solid, traditions.  This year, during our Lenten season (click here to learn more about lent) our church has been doing The Stations of the Cross every Wednesday evening, followed by a Soup dinner.  Hence, Soup and Stations.  I won't go into it much, accept to say that I've never done it before this year.  And I really think it is FABULOUS!  It's the depiction of the last hours of Christ, and you "walk with Him" through His final hours.  Very moving and powerful!  And can I say, that I have never really been a fan of Easter?  Not the bunny and basket kind, anyhow.  But attending the Stations of the Cross every Wednesday with my family has really brought about a new understanding of what this time of year represents, and what the holiday of Easter is truly about.  If you would like to know more about the Stations of the Cross, click here.  I am not a huge fan of Wikipedia, but this is the site that told the most, in terms I could understand (so I think you can too, after all, I am a blond!)  I also found this site if you'd actually like to read through a version of the stations -- at the bottom of the page click "next station" to keep reading through the Fourteen Stations.

So, that, my folks, is why we have had alot of soup this winter.  We've been taking a crockpot of soup to Church every Wednesday night of lent, and because of that, I've been trying out some new recipes.  And with that, I'd better get.  I've got to get ready to head out the door to Soup and Stations...but keep checking back, I will be posting the recipe soon!   

A Very Merry Christmas Indeed!

What a wonderful Day.  I'm sitting here in my pajamas - not already in my pajamas, but still in my pajamas.  We have had a great day, with laughter and fun and good food and lots of calls from family.  Enjoying each other while still remembering that this celebration is Jesus' gift to us, on His Birthday.  We've been blessed with a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!  And we're  wishing YOU a very Merry Christmas too!  (Craig is off to get Killian tomorrow - yeah!!!)

The best Christmas Gift...God is Good

A few weeks ago, the kids and I chose an angel off the tree at church.  We chose one for a food basket for a single mom with three kids.  I didn't blog about this when we did it, because... this is not the type of thing I feel we need to announce.  I feel that many times when you're honoring God and doing his good works, you need to do so with silent service.  What I mean is, you don't go out and broadcast to your friends and neighbors that you just put $20 in the Salvation Army basket on your way into Macy's.  So...then why am I sharing this with you now? Well, I have a bit of a testimony to tell you.  I want to share this with you now in the hopes that you will feel as rewarded from my story as I did from the gift I got today. 

So, back to my story....

We chose to do the food basket for a single mother with three kids because it really hit home for me.  I remember a few times growing up that a basket of food or gifts landed on our doorstep and it was a huge blessing to us.  So, that's what the kids and I decided to do.  The catch was - we are on a really tight budget this Christmas.  And in order to do a food basket with all the fixings for Christmas dinner, a gift card for a ham, and some household goodies for our Angel Tree family, we'd have to pull it out of our grocery budget.  But I still wanted to do it.  It was in my heart to give to this family who was less fortunate, and also to give my children this lesson. That we can still give, even if it's just a little, even if we don't have alot.  When I told the kids about this, I explained that it just meant we might not be able to have many of our "extras" this payday (ice cream and cute little packaged snacks).  That in order for us to afford giving to this family who was really in need of the basics, we would have apples for snack and no dessert.  Daz and Allyssa were so great about this.  They were completely ok with that, they loved shopping for the basket and putting it together.  They really surprised me the weekend we did this, as they were walking down the aisles of the store and asking if we could put "this and this in the basket too, Mom, please..."  They knew the more we got for this other family, the less fun things we'd get to put into our own pantry, and they still added to our cart with such giving hearts.  I love how generous my children were.  We went to the Dollar store and got some cute towels and an ornament and a few other things to help make this family's holiday festive and fun.  And as their basket grew, I was thankful that I had the opportunity to share in this with my children.  That I witnessed this honest spirit of giving coming out of them.  I was so proud.  And I felt that it was such a wonderful gift for our family - this ability to give!

So...it's been a few weeks since we've done that.  And I have been budgeting and planning our Christmas meals and menus.  Trying to figure out just how much holiday baking I could afford to do.  How many neighbors and friends would get my "famous" Pumpkin Roll or a tray of cookies.  What kind of dinners we'd be having between now and Christmas.  What kind of lunches the kids would get on their Christmas Break.  And, I was really trying to make my dollar stretch.  Really trying to pull it off, because I love to bake for others, I love making holiday meals, and I wanted to make it all work this time of year. 

So, last night Allyssa and I went to the commissary (our grocery store on base) to get a few items we needed for dinner.  They were announcing that they were having a give-away the next day. That every 15 minutes between 10am and 4pm they were giving away a shopping cart full of groceries.  So I made a plan.  I figured that since I still had a bit of shopping to do, I'd make a list, go shopping, and if I happened to win a cart full of groceries while I was there, well, great!  I called as many friends as I could to let them know about this awesome give-away the commissary was doing. But this morning, my heart wasn't in going grocery shopping.  (In case you don't know - I HATE grocery shopping!!!)  And I thought to myself "Charity, you're not lucky.  You don't ever win anything.  So what's the point?  You're not in the mood for shopping, just go another day."  But, since we were so tight this payday, I told myself I'd go for a half hour.  I'd grab a few more things on my list to make it for a few more days, and if I was meant to win, I'd win.  So that's what I did. 

I walked in the door of the commissary and was given a ticket.  Went straight to the produce section where I was for about five minutes, and then they announced a winner.  I checked my ticket...what?...they called out my number... I WON!  I was in such shock!!  I won a heaping cart full of $276 worth of groceries!  And what's even more amazing is that it was within five minutes of me walking in the door!  And it was in that moment that I knew it had nothing to do with luck.  That my thought from the morning "Charity, you're not even lucky" was probably still true, because that, right there, was a blessing from God.  As my friend Janna put it, it was God's way of kissing my family on the forehead and telling us "Good Job!"  You know, when you put your trust in God, he always provides! 

It also brought to mind this scripture (Just so you know, I'm not very versed in the Bible - at all - so I had to do ALOT of digging to find this...)

Matthew 25:35 (King James Version) "For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in."

And then it made me realize...if I would not have gone to the commissary, I would not have won that basket of food.  (Well, duh, Charity.)  What I mean is, if I wouldn't have given God the opportunity to bless me, I would not have been blessed.  Sometimes I think I'm not worthy of Gods love and blessings and I make the decision to walk away before He is even given the chance.  Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve what God really has in store for me.  That cart of groceries was a big eye opener for me today.  How many times is God ready and willing to bless me, and unknowingly, unfaithfully, I walk away and turn my back?  And really, how great is it that I am able to share such blessings of hope and God's love with you?  Really, a gift at this time of year, this Christmas spirit.

So, that's my story folks.  That God is Good.  That when you are doing good work, and you are acknowledging Him, he blesses you.  It won't always be as bold as today.  Sometimes it's in the small ways.  Like making sure the kids come home off the bus and are well behaved and quiet if I have a headache.  In many different ways, God blesses us.  But we have to be there, with a willing heart, ready to receive.  Can you believe, I almost walked away today?  I would have really missed out!  And I don't mean on $276 worth of groceries (but yes, that too).  I mean, on the message.  God didn't whisper to me today.  He told me in 20 point font, bold print, I LOVE YOU.  God took me in.  As he's willing to do, every day, if I allow him.