New Year and such...

Wow. It's been awhile since I've posted anything. Let me see if I can think of a good reason...hmmm...Oh wait, I just thought of five! Anyway, today my life finally slowed down and man am I thankful. The holidays have been full of business and way too much working, so boy am I ready for this three day weekend. I slept in this morning, tried out my new treadmill (which I love) and have spent lots of time thinking about the last year and the one that is too come.

2009, was full of so much change for us. Preparing to relocate, relocating and adjusting to relocating, pretty much describes our year. There have been blessings, although sometimes they have been hard to find. Yet, we remain healthy and together, two things I don't ever want to take for granted. Health, that's kind of an easy one to navigate. Exercise, eat better and try to avoid stress is about all you are really able to do to maintain whatever health you are given. Together, though is a little tougher. Together requires so much more. It requires commitment, sacrifice, selflessness and lots and lots of grace. I don't know about you, but I am definitely better at exercise and eating well, than selflessness. But the benefits of togetherness far surpass any other.

When I think about 2010, all I can think about is what things I want to change this year. I want to be more fit (easy enough), I want to run a marathon with my hubby before we turn 40 ( a little tougher). I want to successfully complete my RNFA program (challenging, but achievable). I want to enjoy my kids more (believe it or not, this is a tough one for me), I want to love my husband more (yes he's lovable, but loving him selflessly). I want to draw closer to my Savior (again selflessness) I want to be a better daughter, sister and friend (are you picking up the theme yet?) Above all, this year I want my life to be LESS about me, and more about OTHERS. Trust me, for me, running and taking care of myself is far easier than trying to lead a life that isn't all about me. I'm hoping I am not the only girl relating...can I get an amen?

The Lord has placed a seed in my heart, reminding me of what He is capable of through me. I sure don't know what it is, but I do know where my greatest weakness lies...with me! So my prayer for 2010, is that this year the Lord would fill me with bountiful grace and mercy for others, that ultimately leads to glory for my King!

Happy New Year!

Birthdays, Booty and Boobage...

Warning: the content of this post may not be appropriate for young children and is definitely not comprehendable by grown men.

So, Friday is my birthday. Am I excited? No, not particularly. Am I depressed? Nope, not entirely. I feel actually...um...apathetic. But I am taking the time to notice some particulars that occur in a woman's late thirties that a mother really should have prepared a girl for. These particulars mostly have to do with the growing amount of "stuff" and "products" required for a girl to look good. I remember in my early twenties, I didn't even own a makeup case. Why? Because on a very special occasion I might put on a little mascara. You hardly need a case for that. Clear, creamy, non-wrinkled skin required very little maintenance and the occasional "glow" of pregnancy (which I experienced all too often) was enough to make an attentive husband comment on how young and beautiful he thought I was. Ahhh, those were the days. Now, it seems, really all of the sudden, my makeup case has become obese. Full of foundations and eye creams, any product that claims to reduce wrinkles, cover age spots and brighten those dark eye circles, believe me I own it. Makeup has become my standby, there is never a day without it. In fact, on the rare occasion that I am running late for work, and dare step into the operating room wearing only my own complection, I am immediately met with, "Are you okay? You don't look like you feel good."

How about hair? Remember those early twenties again with me girls...dark, natural locks, curled and styled with ease, certainly no need for color, foil, dryers and touch ups. Now, I have them scheduled on my calender like clock work, without them...lots of gray, and a mom who says, "can we talk about your hair?"
Next, lets talk about the "boobage"...you girls know exactly what I'm talking about. Gone are the days when nothing more was needed than a simple brasierre. Now, many years later, and five breastfed children, the girls are in need of a huge amount of help. Recently, I ventured out to my local "we can lift them and make them look good again" bra shop. I walked in and said to the sales clerk (she was about 18), "could you measure me? I seem to be having some, you know (wink) girl trouble." She was glad to help and hopefully the experience did not traumatize her so much that she will decide childbirth is not for her...but anyway, I digress...So, she measures me and then recommends I try the latest, very greatest, miraculous push-up bra. She brings it to me and the site of it was truly amazing. I think it actually has breasts in it before you even put yours in it! So, I try it on and am instantly sold. Like singing from the mountain top with my hands extended, spinning, sold. So of course I buy 2, drop a small car payment at the register and head home.

The next day, I get up and head of to work, with my girls at full attention. I must admit, it was somewhat anti-climactic, no turning heads, no wind machine blowing my hair as I walked down the hall with people staring and saying, "wow, who's that girl?" Nope, just pretty much the same old, same old, with the exception that by noon I had a whopping headache from having my girls jacked up so high. At lunchtime I had to take 2 excedrin and put on my sports bra...
We took a trip for Thanksgiving, and I got to spend the day shopping with one of my closest friends. When she got in the car, we laughed and visited, drank coffee and headed to the mall. "I want to get some jeans for my birthday", I told her. She was glad to go along. I went into my favorite store and started trying on some jeans. Each time I would emerge from the dressing room I would ask her for her honest opinion. "Those are too tight", she said. "Really?" I argued. "Definitely" she said, "they give you fold over booty". Ewwww....nobody wants fold over booty. But really, this thirty something booty is already folded over. It's not the jeans. A few more pairs and she chimes, "Those are it, they make your booty look gooood." "Really?" I asked, "are you sure?" "Yea" she said, "and where the heck did you get those boobs?" I then informed her about my new bra. "You need to buy a lot more of those", she added.
See? I told you it was miraculous...

Goodbye Uncle Dave...

Today we said goodbye to my Uncle David...it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. My Uncle David is my dad's oldest brother. The firstborn of seven, he is also the first of the seven to leave us. He was 65 years old.

Norman David Sinclair was born to Helen and Harry Sinclair, December 4, 1944. A couple years later, Richard was born, then my dad, Glenn. Helen and Harry had very little money and soon they had lots of kids. Like many families during that time, they lived in a very small house and the older kids played a big part in raising the younger ones. When David was 14, he took a job as a delivery boy and used the money he made to help with the families expenses. When he joined the Navy at 17, he boarded a ship and sailed all over the world, serving his country and sending money home to his family. He married my Aunt Binky, and they had two sons. Brian and Larry were the joy of David's life. They lived in a small home but it was always bursting with people.

When I was a little girl, we often got together with my dad's siblings. At any given gathering we would have 10-15 of us grandkids running around together, lots of times these gatherings were at Uncle David's house. His laughter made you feel welcomed and comfortable. He always took time to talk to me, hug me and let me know he knew I would do great things. He really knew how to make you feel special. He just loved people. He also loved Jesus.

About six years ago, Uncle David started forgetting things. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, and he progressed rapidly into an unbearable state of illness in which he didn't seem to remember anyone, even his wife. The sadness of losing the one you love to this disease is like no other, and watching the strength of David's wife and sons is more than just inspiring. I have watched those boys gently and consistently care for their mom, and I watched Aunt Binky care for her failing husband with dignity and unconditional love.

Today, as we layed him to rest, I was once again amazed by the love of our God. I watched through tearful eyes as six remaining siblings gathered to say goodbye to a brother. Laying aside differences to join in celebrating David's life. They remembered his generosity, his love of family and his love for his Savior. As the back of the car carrying David's body was opened at the graveside, I was moved to tears. David's brothers joined on either side of his sons to carry his body to it's resting place. As a bagpiper played, I thanked God for David's life and that through his death, these siblings were reunited and some very old wounds can begin to heal. David would have loved that...

Halloween preperations...

Well, as many of you moms can relate, preparing for Halloween when you have children can be more overwhelming than Christmas! Stores seem to get there pumpkins and bats out earlier and earlier, and this year I swear it was August when Rhett spied some Halloween decorations in a local store. "Oh, mom" he said, "we neeeeed to get ready for Halloween!" I reminded him that we were no where near neeeeeeding to get ready for Halloween. After all, I am a last minute type gal, who was raised by another last minute type gal, who didn't even let this gal TALK about Halloween until October 15th. This rule stood in my childhood home as law until I left home. If you tried to talk to mom about Halloween, she would say, "I'm sorry, is it October 15th?" Sad to say, I find myself expressing the same Halloween exhasperation with my own children. Usually it starts with me saying "Is it already October 15th?"

Anyway, last week I decided to take the boys out and get them some costumes. They are going to participate in a Halloween parade this weekend, and they get to march in their costumes through the main street in town and be judged for their originality. When I realized this was competitive, I became slightly more interested. With Brey and Keller being too old (according to them) to dress up for Halloween, that only left me with three to outfit. Immediately I started coming up with themed ideas that could win them the big prize. "How about the three stooges?" I suggested, rather impressed with myself. They just looked at me blankly. "It would be great", I said, and I continued explaining about Larry, Curly and Moe. I'm pretty sure one of them rolled their eyes at me, as the rest shook their head no. "Okay", I said, "Your cousin Evy is dressing as Dorothy, how about if you guys dress as the tin man, scarecrow and lion???" Again...blank staring. At this point, Keller put his arm around me, "Sorry mom, those are really good ideas though".

Finally, I gave up and we headed to the costume store. Standing in the aisle, staring at roughly fifty costumes, the chaos began. Rhett informed me first that he wanted to be "Mustard". "Really? You want to be a tube of mustard?" I asked. He nodded his head. We asked for the costume and thank goodness, they didn't have it in his size. Hmmmm....Rhett was back to the drawing board. Gabe was after anything that had to do with star wars, or clones, or transformers or some other "cloney" looking thing. After several attempts, we found something "clonish" (I honestly don't know what he is) in his size. He held it tight and began telling me all about all the other accesories he would be needing to complete his costume. This began sounding like the teacher in Charlie Brown in my left ear, because really all I could hear in my right ear was Aubrey. "Can I get this one?" he asked, pointing at the disgusting Jason guy with blood coming out his eyes. "No" I answered. "How about this one?" he continued, pointing at the Freddy Krueger costume. "Nope", I replied. (Big sigh from Aubrey) "Oh, how about thiiiisss one?" he asked pointing to some gross zhombie guy with his guts hanging out and his eyeball in his hand. "Nooo", I answered. He lowered his head and shook it from side to side. Rhett says, "can I be a sumo wrestler?" "Sure" I said and he picked up his costume and smiled. Aubrey looked at me with his mouth wide open. "How come he can be what he wants?" he asked. "Because, he isn't asking for something horrible and disgusting," I answered. "Now do you want to try again?" Ever the diplomat, Keller decided to intervene and help me understand what it was that Aubrey was trying to achieve. "He wants to be something scary, mom", he said, with Aubrey nodding behind him.

So, at this point I tried to remember that I am a girl and maybe this is something I just don't get. So I tried to find my masculine side...."How about this werewolf costume?", I asked, "it's pretty scary." He rolled his eyes, and again we were off and running. "how about this one?" he asked, pointing at the grim reaper. I just shook my head. "Aubrey, if you want to be something scary, you can be the werewolf", I said. He stood there looking at the werewolf costume for a few minutes, which was fine since Gabe was still going on about accessories, and Rhett was searching for facial hair to go with his sumo costume. "Mom, if I get the werewolf costume, can I put blood all over my hands?" he asked. "No" I answered. "Can the werewolf carry a bloody knife?" he continued. "No" I replied. "Can the werewolf be carrying a pistol?" he asked. "No, Aubrey, werewolfs don't carry weapons", I said, "that's why he has such big teeth". He just stood there looking at me. "Mom its just not scary enough", he said. So, we left the store with the clone thingy and the sumo wrestler, but nothing for Aubrey. I'm afraid he is a boy of little compromise. I'm sure that can be used for good when he becomes a man, but for now it doesn't seem to be helping him much. The parade is tomorrow and he is still on the hunt for a costume. Who knows he may just be going as a tween boy with a very unreasonable mother, hmmm...I bet there are lots of those :)

My Glamorous Life...

Well, I thought it was about time I took some time to blog about my career. For those of you wondering what my career is, if you look at this photo it is very easy to tell that I am in clown school!!! Just kidding, the photo is actually not a joke. This was taken today while I was at work in the operating room. I did not dress up special to try to be funny, this is actually the appropriate attire for the case I was doing today. Being an operating room nurse is not for everyone. If you are into looking your best, dressing cute and providing lasting memories for patients, the OR is not the place for you. As you can see from the photo, job requirement number one is self esteem!!

Being an OR nurse means you dress in dull all blue scrubs that fit pretty much like pajamas. It means you cover your hair every day with some freaky patterned cloth cap. It means you spend the majority of your shift with a mask on, so you get very good at talking with your eyes. But above all else, it means you spend the better part of your day behind locked doors with...surgeons. AAAAGGGHHHH!!! Like I said it is not for everyone, especially not the weak!!

Being an OR nurse also means that you get to do all the stuff nobody wants to think about, let alone talk about. It also means that the majority of your patients won't remember your name let alone your face. Some in my profession call OR nursing "thankless". We are the forgotten group, a group that holds an expectation for our patients. We're expected to make sure that everything goes "OK", they trust us to protect them while they are asleep, to ensure that their best interests are upheld, to respect their dignity and overall keep them safe.

OR nursing is far from glorious, but for me it holds great purpose. It isn't just my job, its my purpose, or part of my purpose anyway. The Lord has placed me in this role for moments I don't always understand. Many days I am tired, discouraged, depressed, stressed, anxious and just trying to make it through my day, but then when I least expect it, a divine moment is orchestrated by God in which I have a purpose. Many times, I am able to hold a hand, comfort a fearful soul or pray over a sleeping patient, and I am in awe of how much my Saviour loves me that He would allow me to serve Him, and have a purpose in His kingdom.

One particular day, I was readying my room for a procedure and the dr's brought my patient in. I hadn't even met her yet as this was a particularly busy morning and in our teaching hospital we are always bursting at the seams with students and residents of all sorts. I looked over at her and smiled (with my eyes of course) and then went back to preparing all of the equipment and supplies that were needed. As the doctors and residents prepared her, they discussed the different things they were going to do amongst each other. They began placing IV's and other monitoring equipment and somehow in my busyness I heard her. She wasn't loud, she wasn't even really saying anything, she just kind of sighed and rolled on her side as the staff continued to fuss with monitors and such. I walked over to her and noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. I knelt down so my face was level with hers and placed my hand on her shoulder. "Are you OK?" I asked her. She nodded her head, and the dr's asked her to hold still. They were placing a catheter in her back to help her with pain after her surgery. "I'll help you hold still" I told her. As I knelt on the floor in that operating room, she and I visited. So much craziness around us yet it seemed like it was only us. I found out she had raised five sons. She told me their names, their professions and the different personalities they had. I told her about my sons and we giggled at the coincidence :) Before we knew it her catheter was placed and I helped her over to the operating room table. As she drifted off to sleep, I held her hand and promised her I would take good care of her. I don't know if she remembers me, but it doesn't matter.

Being a nurse is a great privelage. To have access to people's lives at times of great vulnerability holds great responsibility. To be able to provide comfort, peace, care and love is crucial to a patients ultimate outcome. How true also is it that to be the hands and feet of Christ is even more crucial to a patients ultimate outcome. I am a nurse, but more importantly, I am a vessel of the Most High God. It really doesn't matter what our career is, it only matters that whatever it is, we are willing to submit it to Him, that all we do might show the love of Christ for His glory.

Lifting My Face...

In my darkest hour, I felt Him lift my face. "I love you" He said. But how could that be true? How could a Savior, so perfect, love me? A wretched, sinful, disgusting, self centered, prideful, vain woman. I have always known His love, yet I took it for granted. Turned my back on Him, knowing that I truly knew better. I was so angry with Him...how could HE allow me to suffer? I have known Him since I was seven, and though not perfect, I loved Him. Yet He would allow me to suffer...why? So I took control. I decided I would make my own way. I would figure out my path, I certainly did not need Him anymore...and while I made my own way, and sinned my own sins, He waited, and He loved me. When my choices led me to the brink of death, He waited and...He loved me. And when I felt Him lift my face in His hands, I knew. I knew I had finally come to the end of myself, the place I needed to be in order to truly understand His love for me and my love for Him. A Savior who loved me so much that He would give His very life for me, and even after I became His, He knew I would stray, yet He loved me so much, He waited...and when I was on my knees, He took my face in His hands and whispered, "I love you and I forgive you."

Living in forgiveness is not as easy as it sounds, I sit with tears streaming down my face, two years later, still trying to figure out how to do it. The guilt overwhelmes me, takes my very breath away, and many times the enemy whispers to me that I will never be anything more than my sins. Sometimes I believe it. Yet, I know its a lie. I know that my Jesus paid it all, that His sacrifice is more than enough. That His blood was shed for me...what a precious blessing, for there is nothing I could do to earn His favor, only by His grace... But, oh, it is hard to heal...the thorn I am left with is all too real. Some days I am thankful for it, but most days I curse it. It will never leave me, and its purpose I do not yet understand.

The only thing I do know tonight, is that my Jesus loves me and somehow He will do mighty things through this woman. And so I submit, I seek and I wait, knowing that He is forever faithful...

Fall Fun!

Just a few fun photos from a trip to a local Jersey farm the boys and I visited last week. Johnson's farm has been a old standby in this part of NJ for many years. It is full of apples, pumpkins and corn this time of year, and in years past when we would visit my family in NJ, we would take a trip to this farm. We have many memories of hay rides, pumpkin picking, corn mazes and the petting zoo. When we visited last week we ran in to one of my aunts that I haven't seen in 17 years. It was so fun to visit with her and my cousins and catch up on all that has happened over the years. She was amazed at our sons and their height!! Anyway it was a really great day!

I'll try to post some football pics next!!!

God bless!