Issues, a word used so often these days, refer to those hideous, difficult things we all need to work on. I, for one, am very aware of my issues. They have plagued me for years and I realize now that they are like scabs that itch and irritate but just need time to heal. No instant thing will make them better or heal them throughly. All of the things I use to try to fill these deep, cataclysmic holes in my psyche are never enough.

One of my biggest issues is a need for comfort. Comforting places, things, sounds, foods, talks, experiences... I just need to feel comforted... A lot. For as long as I can remember, I have craved peacefulness inside and out. I have wanted my environment to be peaceful, so that my mind can be peaceful. In many cases, aloneness was peacefulness. I was happy to do things alone (movies, coffee shops, museums) and in fact I would feel a bit crazy if I didn't get this time. That was until some thing changed in the past two years. I went from needing comforting solitude to needing comforting friends, thus experiences. Why? Well, like all deep-seeded issues, I think it started with my family's inability to care for one another on an emotional level. It just isn't there. My little brother is my closest (emotionally) sibling. I can talk to him and not feel like I am revealing things that he won't treat with respect and gentleness. He is the only of my four siblings and two parents who reads (and cares about) my blog. The others just don't seem interested in my life... And I have taken their cues through all the years and have done the same to them. We don't call each other... We don't hang out... We catch up once in a while and keep things easy to deal with. And maybe none of them really have anything to say, but I know there is a lot I DON'T say.

But I am moving forward and chipping away at the issues... I tell the little girl inside that life is different now and that those feelings of being neglected emotionally are not who I am anymore... And someday I will be old and I want to get to that point feeling like I got healthy along the way...

That happened to me today. My husband had sent the kids outside to play and then said I should take a look at a letter from my kids' preschool. It arrived in the same 5x7 manilla envelope all of the school materials arrive in. There in among the papers was a letter to all the parents.

Now, it wasn't the first time the school sent out a letter to let the parents know of a critical change happening with the school (it has happened twice in the past 5 years. Usually these letters are in reference to a teacher leaving). So, I said to myself "Great. Who's leaving NOW??" A about a year and a half ago the school had lost two great teachers within 1 month of each other due to job changes with more pay that they both really needed. It was a shock since one of the teachers was my son's former kindergarden teacher (she was great) and she left during Christmas break (through a letter, of course... guess THAT's not so great, though, huh?) never to return.

Anyway, this letter was from the head teacher and owner of the school, Marilyn. A woman who I have entrusted my children with because she is one of the sweetest, and kindest people I know. She runs her school very well, and has made my children feel so loved and important. She has greeted me every school day with a smile and welcome arms for my kids. This letter was from her as an individual, not as a teacher. She was letting us all know that her warm, laid back summer was coming to a screeching halt due to the fact that she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She isn't a smoker, and gave no other information than that. She's in her late 60's and has seemed healthy since I have known her. This was a true shock to me. Now I just am dumbfounded. How do I imagine her with her hair falling out and her weight dropping? How do I imagine her keeping her cheerful spirit when her body is racked with pain? What if I have to tell my kids (two of which who have had her for two years or more) that something horrible has happened to this woman they care so much about? What if they are shocked and have questions I can't answer? She sounds hopeful, but has made all the necessary plans to cover all the needs at the school.

I lost a friend to breast cancer last fall. Two of my close friends have parents battling cancer at this very point in time. Three different people from my church had cancer in the past few years. My uncle had kidney cancer last year. What gives? It just seems like it is inevitable. I am so thankful that it isn't someone in my family. I am blessed that close calls with bad health have never been anything but that.

Let me digress... I remember asking my mom about her parents... Her mom, Lydia... A woman I never met. I remember my mom saying, "oh, she died before you were born. I was 38." Or my dad saying something about his parents in the same way.

I feel like these years I am in now are going to be filled with changes that my younger years shielded me from. Changes that alter everything... Changes that solidify relationships because you are there through the tough times with the people you care the most about. These are the years where my friends may bury their parents. These years are the years I buried friends. These are the years I have buried friends babies. These are the years that seemed so far away just a decade ago.

I have been on a "journey" for a while now. Mono, panic issues, allergies, and now asthma. Since last October I have been sorting out a lot of stuff. With panic issues you get caught up in fear of your health, mainly because you don't breathe deep enough to keep the oxygen levels correct in your brain. Which then spirals you into thinking your dying of something... a heart attack, cancer, tumors, what ever your mind can think of to explain why you feel so lousy. Sometimes your reason to start breathing wrong is simply asthma. A treatable thing. Sometimes its a deeper lying issue waiting to surface and be recognized... analyzed... For me its been both.

I went through a really hard epiphany last winter. I realized none of my grandparents lived past 82. My parents are beginning their 70's. What will this decade bring? What of the next? (I realize the morbidity of such a thought. I understand the gravity of the emotions felt when a subject so sensitive is brought into the light). Tough emotions are bound to surface as time plays on and life carries on as it always has... Birth, living, dying.

Right now my kids look at me as the grown-up... The one who is supposed to have the answers that help them sleep better and at peace. They are the age I was when I looked at my parents and listened as they told me the stories of people I never met... Their parents... The same age as when my parents calmed me down after a bad dream. When did I grow up? It is like the secret of grown-ups is that they really have no idea what will happen next, but all they really know is a soothing voice, reassuring this little person staring up at them with complete trust, is all they need.

Marilyn is a strong woman and I know she will put up a good fight, and she may win. But these are the years when simple answers are no longer in my grasp... The years when joy and mourning flow into each other... The years that continue to make me into whatever I am to be at the end... The years that seemed so far away, but came all too soon.

As I looked at the branch all colored and full of life, I knew I needed a better tool for what was to come next. I had to find something that was a little sharper and easier to manipulate through the semi hard surface...So I grabbed a crazy wall hanger thingy that was laying around on my desk. (I got these things at a hardware store, recommended by some guy who said one little nail could hold like 50 lbs!! I bought them to hang up my art work, whatever it turned out to be. It is sort of like a nail with a disk in the middle and about 3/4 inch big and angled slightly.) Anyway, it was just what I needed (although a little short) to make more refined strokes.

Soon I was carving out my pencil lines and seeing the little bird come out and become a permanent piece of the board. Once carved, I got to begin my favorite part... choosing colors. The image of the bird was in black and white and so all of the colors were up to me to bring it to life. As I mixed browns and yellows and blues and blacks the creature came to life with personality in her eyes. I felt like she looked at the heavens for guidance... Much like the artist who brought her in to being.

Well, all I can say is no matter how many things I make, when finished I think "how the heck did I make that!? Simple me? How am I able to instinctively color and shade these things that flow out of my hand. Huh..." Then I figuratively shrug my shoulders knowing all too well that I am merely a vessel. That my gift is simply put in me to share with others and hope that is awes them too. I know maybe that sounds a bit conceited, but really, when I feel successful at something I simply cannot take all the credit. I feel like I must thank the One who gave me the privilege to create... And hopefully, to be effective at touching people's hearts in the process... Blessings...

There is a metallic sheen on the image that can not show up except in person, but gives it a very warm heavenly effect.

But as far as I can tell today just sucked.

Moments with my kids are such a treasure. For me, building a dam in the creek and imagining a new little world for things smaller than I is a matter-of-fact idea. But for them it was like a whole new world opened up. My oldest said, "this is like my dream coming true." When asked why he said that ever since we moved to this house all he wanted to do was build a place like this... a special place for fishing, swimming, and playing in. Of course I was thinking "well, why didn't you just do it before?" But what occurred to me was that sometimes imagination needs a role model. Sometimes a simple plan just needs to be seen and realized in order for other ideas to take off.

Water and rocks are such inspiring materials to work with. The sounds, the feel, the endless possibilities. I love creeks, always have. Ever since my brother, Eric, and I would follow the drainage ditch in our backyard through the neighborhood as kids, I have loved them. Ever since I can remember I have been drawn to the amazing virtues of water. From pools, to lakes, to beaches, to rain run-offs, to good puddles, water has always beckoned me into it's flowing, mesmerizing properties.

Then I noticed the other cup holders to have similar dried up streams of various misdirected beverages... The droplets frozen in time as they clung for life opposite their friend "Mr. OJ" on the car's other "tire wall." To top it off there were islands of black gunk stuck to the seat. It was black simply because it had been sat on enough to have covered every bit of stickiness with lint. Sigh.

So, here is how I rectified the situation. Being the HUGE fan of Kirkland (aka Costco) wipes, I went inside, grabbed the nearest pouch of them and headed into the war zone. This goo had no holds on me, I tell you. I went to work with this single pouch (88 count minus a few bunches used for the original purpose of "baby wiping"). These wipes rock all other wipes. I have been using them for about 7 years and never have I been disappointed. They cleaned up all the dried waterfalls, every finger mark and booger smear, all kids of unrecognizable sticky spots, the islands of black gunk, AND did a great job on the dashboard as well! I praise the maker of this handy invention! Kirkland wipes will forever have my allegiance! Well, as long as I need a mini-van that is.

So, I have this knowledge now. I understand that MY breathing is one of the things "askew" in my system. I am working on it. When the unconscious urge to sigh begins I try to make myself take a few deep breaths and feel the air exit slowly, not loudly, and repeat it.

Retraining something that you do automatically wrong is difficult... But quite a learning experience.

Here is a song that I thank Ingrid Michaelson for... "Keep Breathing" Find it here in the little music box on the right side... enjoy!

http://www.myspace.com/ingridmichaelson

Since last October I have been told various things about my health: recovering from mono that I didn't know I had; anxiety disorder; allergy issues; asthma... All of those things can go along with a weakened immune system and adrenal issues. And recently one of my kids was diagnosed with pneumonia, maybe I have that now. Whatever it is I do not like it.

What happened to the old me that was able to live a fairly normal life? Ugh.

I am vulnerable. Like a tender shoot or a new spring leaf cascading from a bloom that is just barely peaking out at the sun. Panic comes welling up in me at any given time of the day and threatens to shut off the very breathe that keeps me going.

But there is good news. I had a break-through. A realization that I am terrified of death. More importantly the death of loved ones I have not yet reconciled myself to.

Many times a day I am gripped with fear that I will stop breathing all together. That the tightness in my throat will win and that the gripping, gnawing fear surrounding my heart will eventually grasp so tight that it will make my heart explode. That is how I define my panic. I have only experienced a full blown panic attack twice. One that catastrophically set me on a downward drop off a tall cliff... And I have been climbing up ever since. The other, just occurred the other night. And before it could spin completely out of control I got help from a dear friend who talked me back to reality. Patiently waiting and encouraging me as I breathed in and out into a brown paper bag.

Humbling, very humbling. And yet I meet people all the time who have experienced this as well. So, I guess misery really does love company. But all in all I know there is a higher good to come of all this. There is a plan taking shape... A journey being walked... And in the end I WILL be a survivor...

A few interesting things stayed with me from that day. The label impressionists gave to their painting style was "en plein air" meaning "to paint in the open air." He and fellow impressionists painted from a point of view that took the viewer in to a moment in time depicting a scene that had happened while portraying an idea of movement in the painting. To see this first hand was breath-taking. I was only inches away from the repetitive strokes and the genius behind them. It was so inspiring. I have wanted to get out my oil paints, for the first time mind you, and try to replicate what I saw. Of course, it never happened and it has been a week. I think that may be why life is hard for me at times. It would be nice to be one of those people who creates at any whim and lives for the moment, but that isn't a mother's life, nor a Christian's, and in the end it would be empty I suppose... but still it would be nice to grab the moment when the inspiration hits... To cease the day and bring forth amazing beauty. Then again maybe at this point in my life, I would most likely be dissatisfied with the outcome and my lack of talent. But this too is just a season...

Just one of the paintings I saw...

What amazes me is the tiny little brush strokes that make up the light and shadows and even the objects you see.

I am selfish. I am self-centered and self-consumed. I see myself in a new mirror and wonder how I ended up looking so worn and beaten down. I find myself full of stress and unable to relax. I freak out at my kids for being kids (running in the house, making messes, fighting, asking unending questions). I freak out at my husband for what ever. I am worn out. It doesn't help that I am probably still recovering from the mono. Nor, does it help that I have a newly diagnosed anxiety disorder that keeps me from being able to function normally in a stressful situation. I also can't help feeling guilty all the time for not doing anything better.

But I do have good days... It's just that today is not one of them.

I am not going to bother getting into the details of a day like today. The ups, the downs, the lows, the lack of highs. Basically, the kids are in bed and all I can do is sit, breathe, write, and cry. The person I am today is not who I wanted to be.

I used to dream of who I would be at the age I am now. I wanted to be joyful about parenting, happy about serving my family, kind and giving to friends. Instead, I feel achy and nervous and impatient and tired. I got very little sleep last night which doesn't help. But the lack of sleep turned me into a mess.

I know that God gives us grace when things are hard, but today I have realized that I am not under that grace because my mind is so fixed on me.

I have found I have two passions: giving of myself to strangers and making them feel loved and accepted; and creating things that resemble some part of me. Is that bad? Selfish?

I know I am not in a strong closeness to God right now. In fact, I pretty much feel like He is a sidenote. And I know that is not a good place to be for raising a family. But I seem to forget about a lot of things these days... And not to belittle God, but I forget He is with me all the time.

I don't know what I am getting at. Just that I need a lot of prayer. Prayer to the Living and True God for a re-creation of me into who I am meant to be. So, I know I write this mainly for me, but if anyone reads this and feels led to let me know they have shot up a few words for me to Father above, I really would appreciate knowing it... : )

By the way, newest favorite music: Ingrid Michealson... check her out at www.ingridmichaelson.com

I remember the day she got that dreaded call. She happened to be at MOPS when her doctors office called with the news of her biopsy. Her phone rang, she left the meeting and went into the lobby. I didn't take much notice of what was going until I was near the lobby getting my kids coats on and half observing the small group of women starting to surround her. She was speaking with lots of hand motions as she always did, but her expression was that of fear and complete dumfounded-ness. A looked of being stunned and then overcome with sadness. After my kids were dressed and ready to head out, I went through the lobby doors with my eyes on her wondering what was happening. I went over to her and she looked at me with sadness in her eyes. I simply asked her what happened and she told me flat out "my doctor's office just called... I have breast cancer." I was stunned. I teared up and gave her a hug and said how sorry I was. I told her I would be praying for her. With kids tugging on my pants, reminding me that they were still there and a part of the moment, I said my good byes and left for the car. I had no idea how quickly her illness would take over. So many emails went out with info on her diagnoses, her progress, her setbacks. She remained hopeful, but the bad news kept coming. I saw her once in October. She looked well, but fought hard to keep her tears at bay. The cancer eventually masticised into her bones... and her organs were then taken over as well.

Karen Esposito passed away December 22 after fighting an abrupt battle with cancer. It is heartbreaking to know how fragile this life is... How quickly we have to say good-bye. How sad it is when the good-byes are never said.
Please pray for her husband and her two young daughters (one who asks where her mommy has gone and one so young she may only remember her by photos) they have a difficult journey ahead and need our prayers.

Below is the obituary from Delaware Online that tells a little of her story...

KAREN ESPOSITO

Karen Louise Kuch
Esposito
Age 35, of Lincoln University, PA, formerly of Lansdale, passed away on Saturday, December 22, 2007 at the Heartland Hospice House, Pike Creek, DE after a courageous battle with breast cancer.
She was the devoted wife of Anthony V. Esposito. Born in Lansdale, she was the loving daughter of Leonard G. and Ruth S. Kuch, III of Lansdale. Karen graduated from North Penn High School, Lansdale in 1990 where she was a member of the North Penn Marching Knights. She graduated from Muhlenberg College, Allentown with a BA in Psychology and Religion. She was a member of the Oxford Presbyterian Church and MOPS of Cornerstone Presbyterian Church in New London. Most recently she was a stay at home mom, but previously had been employed with Ware Presbyterian Village, where she served as an Activities Coordinator.
She will missed by her husband; parents; 2 daughters, Sarah and Molly; a brother, Thomas Kuch and his wife, Heather of Harleysville; paternal grandmother, Joan Kuch of Elizabethtown; nephews Gavin and Landon Kuch; parents-in-law, Vince and Gail Esposito; sisters-in-law, Christine Huston and her husband Jeff and Kim Esposito; brother in law Mark Esposito.
Funeral services will be held at 11 am, on Thursday, December 27, at the Oxford Presbyterian Church, 6 Pine St. Oxford, where friends may call after 9 am. Interment will be announced.
In lieu of flowers, contributions in Karen's memory may be made to Susan G. Komen For the Cure, 5005 LBJ Fwy, Suite 250, Dallas, TX 75244.
Online condolences may be
made at
www.elcollinsfuneralhome.com
Funeral arrangements are
being handled by the
EDWARD L. COLLINS
FUNERAL HOME, Inc.
Oxford, PA
610-932-9584

[published 12/26/2007]