Thanks for all the comments (even the contrary ones from my BFF)!!! Glad to hear that you all are listening.

 I love all 6 of you to death.

At this rate because of your loyal readership, I just might be famous 20 years from now. Gawd, I hope I don’t end up being one of those people who ends up famous after they die. If I am going to go to my grave in relative obscurity, it sure as heck better stay that way after I’m gone…ain’t no one getting famous off of Mama if Mama ain’t around!

So, I am starting to get the idea that in your 30’s you question things. And by things I mean everything. If I could sum up my 20’s, it would be OVERLY CONFIDENT.  I knew who I was, who I wanted to marry, how many kids to have, what job I wanted and when I wanted to retire. I was a registered voter and dedicated Republican. A faithful churchgoer and volunteer. I was a Coach purse loving, Grande Mocha drinking, Addidas wearing, Newsweek reading, George W Bush voter. I had it figured out people!

Then, one by one the bricks began to fall. I like soy lattes? I prefer Kate Spade and Asics? I hate republican politcs? Who am I? Mostly it started with having my first child. Isaac helped me to see beyond my point of view. He forced me to realize that everyone is someone’s baby, which puts a whole mew spin on how you see the world. So, with this change in mind, at 27 I did what I knew best, I figured it all out again.  I read Babywise and 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. If being a parent was a brave new world then I would conquer that world. For the next two years, I managed to work, be a mom and even balance the budget.

Then came Joshua. Okay, take a deep breathe, re-organize and start over. Only this time the starting over was like a sputter that never really got to a full start. Much like my Volkswagon in college, it looked pretty but it didn’t have second gear. I couldn’t manage my job and house and kids and everything else like I had before. All of the sudden traveling for work was painful and getting ready for church on Sundays was too hard to pull off. I couldn’t spend the time with my friends that I wanted and I felt relationships slip away. Having two children made me feel like little pieces of me were stolen away and they might not be given back. Worse yet, the question that haunted me was, do I want them back?

Do I want those friendships? Do I want this job? Do I want to go to church every Sunday? What is really important to me? It was like charting a totally new course, or building a house brick by brick. I felt really ill-equipt.

Now here I am in a new town, with a new job and feeling like I am not only lost but maybe someone burned the map and I am left to sift through ashes for directions. I am not unhappy or ill content, just confused about my future. I love my kids and on most days I actually long to have more. I surf the web and look at pictures of newborns or read birth stories and I even think about sneaking upstairs at the hospital and peaking at the nursery (this however is frowned upon by management and some federal laws). However, I can’t imagine adding another child to our chaos. I am also afraid my bladder might actually revolt at the prospect, along with my boobs…both would head further south.

On the other hand, I want to get a better job, one with more responsibility. I thrive on last minute decisions and finishing projects. I enjoy managing things, in fact it is something that actually comes naturally to me. It may sound crazy but on a really busy day at work, where I feel valued and responsible, I might not even think about the kids all day. (Yikes, that sounds bad)

However, what my 20’s taught me is that in my 30’s I don’t think I can’t do both, at least not in the traditional sense. I can’t work 8-5 in a managment position and have more children or even manage the schedules of the ones I already have. So am I supposed to take a break from climbing the ladder to have more children? Or is the fact that my life is chaotic enough right now an indicator that one more child would throw me over the edge?

So, I am 31. I am learning that what I thought I knew in my 20’s, I will re-evaluate in this decade. Does that mean it will happen again in my 40’s? Or at some point do I cease wondering what else is out there and feel comfortable that what I’ve chosen is right for me?

These are just some of the questions that go bump in the nightime of my mind. I promise to let you know if I figure out the answers. However, I can almost guarantee the answer will be different for each of you.

This is one of those posts that isn’t meant to entertain or enlighten. It is a moment of self-awareness simply put to paper.

Since we moved, I’ve had good days and bad. As with any transition, the consequences of change are felt. It is wonderful to reside amongst such jaw dropping beauty. If I take a deep breath when looking at the ocean or the trees occupying the nearby cliffs, I feel prettier, smarter and more fulfilled. Internalizing the beauty of your surroundings isn’t hard to do around here.

However, I am really missing the safety net of my old home. I miss the comfort that comes with familiarity. Turlock is ugly. Well, maybe not ugly but unconvincing and awkward. The people, however, are like family so the make of the town never bothered me entirely. Once I set foot in my old job, Turlock ceased to be an issue. It was where this amazing opportunity was so, I would no longer question the town’s beauty or comfort.

When we made the decision to move, it was precipitated by a 12 month period of wanderlust. We both felt like we wanted to live someplace else. We wanted to choose where our children would be raised, not just end up someplace and call it home. I look back on that period of time as very purposeful because had we not been looking, this opportunity would not have landed upon us.

For me, the biggest part of leaving Turlockwas shockingly not the prospect of leaving my family. We are amazingly close and I knew that no span of time or distance of space would change that truth. My mother, father and sisters are a part of me and in that way are always with me in what I do. I knew I would miss the ability to just stop by their houses but I knew the move would allow for periods of extended time spent together that would be more meaningful than the “drive-by’s” of old.

So, the clincher for me really, was leaving my job and all of the things/people that went with it. My job had fallen into my lap 7 years ago. I was offered a shiny present that I hadn’t yet earned, all wrapped up with a wonderful salary and title. I treated the present with great care and after a few years, had earned that title and salary with great effort. My job became a second persona. It was still me, just better. The person I strived to be at work was, for the most part, the woman that I wanted to be as a child. When I saw myself as a grown-up, the picture of me going to Washington DC for a conference came to mind. It was the best of what I had pictured myself to be (once I gave up on my dream to be a doctor, which ended promptly in a high school calculus class).

The day Kevin was offered the job, I was with him. We had gone together for his final interview and I waited anxiously in the car. We knew he would get it and we knew we were inclined to accept it. However, once it was in writing, it felt more official. On the drive home we kept repeating, “We’re moving!” as though saying it one more time would make it real.

As I am apt for negativity, the excitement waned quickly for me as I moved on to the slew of details that had to be completed for the move to actually take place. I would spend the next 60 days just doing things, the things that needed to be done. I was shockingly detached from the emotions of the move due to the busyness of our details.

Once we moved and unpacked, it hit. All of the things to be done were done. We had moved, we had made a major change. When I got a call from a friend the other day who had applied for my old job and wanted some pointers, at first I was excited for him. Then, as I began to explain my job and what was necessary for the position, I began to get melancholy. In fact, after the call, I got down right depressed.

My job had been my ideal. I was accepted, I was understood and I was one of the few who had access to the top of the organization. I could speak eloquently on any one of the myriad of issues facing my organization at the drop of a hat. My job was one of my best accomplishments and now, it would be handed to someone else. Someone who may, or may not, treat that accomplishment with care and concern. It was like watching a woman move in on a grieving husband at his wife’s funeral. I was not done with my job, yet life had allowed for it to end.

Yet, with all of this said I know intellectually that the job itself was not mine, it is the company’s. The successes and failures of the job were mine to own and I did for a time. However, with this move and my new employment looming on the horizon, it is time to let go. I can not hover like some ghost over my old accomplishments, I need to prepare myself for the next phase with the same care and concern I gave the last. Somehow though, it still feels like a part of me is dying.

Wrankled, messy, tore up. This is my heart on fear. My head swims with the decisions, the indecision, the possibilities for failure. What if I did something wrong, what if one of the kids got sick, what if we ran out of money, what if… you get the idea.

Ever since I was a child I can remember the palpable emotion of fear. It has been a constant in my life. Not because I was raised with terror or abuse or some terrible form of neglect. Actually, I was loved and well cared for. The fear snuck in all on its’ own and has managed to ravage my days. This move brought up a whole new level of fear and worry that I never thought possible. I found that there were so many decisions, so many possibilities to do the wrong thing.

At first I thought my propensity toward fear was because I am smart. You see, I understand the consequences of action, I know the statistics on injury and disease, I know that if things can go wrong they will. I know, I sound like Debbie the Downer…Living this way makes me a less than desirable party guest.

Later in life as I contemplated this fear mongering, I began to think maybe I am cursed, genetically pre-disposed to a negative way of thinking. Lately I’ve come to the conclusion that it is the thorn in my side, the thing that God never quite removes. I don’t know yet if it is because I won’t let Him or because He has chosen not to. I suppose the answer will come with time.

Either way, decisions come at a great cost if you live life in fear. What you will have for dinner can spiral into an internal dialogue about weight and colon health. On the really big decisions fear can act as a complete roadblock and lead only to inaction, even if you are being called by God to act.

So what does one do about fear and where does fear come from? The humanistic approach would be to say that fear comes from lack of knowledge, so to learn is to remove fear. I’ve found the greater knowledge I have on a subject, the more likely I am to analyze it to eternity and back with no conclusion. You see for me fear is not being scared of something I don’t know, it is a worry that something unexpected, unplanned for will pop up and change everything.

I know intellectually that fear has a purpose and that some fear of things is healthy. When does it move to unhealthy? When does it cross the line into negative thinking and predisposal of bad outcomes? It seems like the line is fine and unclear. However, today I heard a quote that made me think a little differently about fear.

“Fear is the defining characteristic of a man expecting punishment.”

If I could insert a picture of a light bulb going off, I would because it was that obvious. I operate on the premise of fear because of my expectation of punishment for action/inaction. This says a lot about what I believe about God. I live in expectation of His punishment. If I do the wrong thing then certainly I can expect some consequence or punishment, hence the fear regarding the original decision. So really, the fear is about a lack of control in the outcome, not the decision itself.

I wish I could say that all of this goes on in a conscious environment. However, fear is so familiar, so comfortable, that all of this is actually occurring on a deeper level. So changing it is going to take me being aware of this little mini drama as it plays out. As with anything good in life, this will take work on my behalf.

I know that God loves me and commands me to rid myself of fear. He wants me to live with abandon for Him. To do so means I have to shed my belief that He is an eternal punisher. God is love, His greatest commandment is to love, He speaks of love consistently. While my choices may warrant consequence at some point, it is not God’s intention or sole purpose to provide those consequences. He FIRST loved me, before the world existed. However, He loves me still, after I sin, after I make the wrong choices.

Because of this love, I can’t let fear grip my heart in expectation of punishment. Instead I will strive to walk in expectation of being loved no matter what.