Dear Diary,

I haven't talked to you in a long time.  I've been writing this thing called a blog; it's like a diary, but you put it out there for everyone to read.  I know; it's not really private and it puts me in a very vulnerable position.  But, somehow, vulnerability and transparency are refreshing.  Sometimes readers may be inspired and sometimes, they're just thankful they're not me.

Dear Diary,

I lost my job.  Thankfully, not because I wasn't good at it, but for many other corporate America politics.  Nonetheless, it's a new feeling for me; failure and not measuring up to whatever impossible standards I've put on myself.  I hear you; I can't set unrealistic expectations, it wasn't my fault and maybe it's the beginning of something new.  But, right now, it just feels like something terrible.  It's not like I loved the job, but it did offer some kind of security.  Now, I get to make big, grown up decisions and I don't want to.  It's just another constant reminder that life isn't how it was dreamed to be for me....for us.  I want to be where God wants me, but to be frank, what the hell is taking Him so long?  I know, I know.  He doesn't work on our time table...blah, blah, blah.  I've heard it all my life, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.  I don't.

Dear Diary,

My dear husband....he's so miserable and nothing I do seems to help.  Yes, again, I hear your voice...it's not up to me to make him happy.  But, his unhappiness colors my world and the only color in his Crayola box is black.  There is one bright one; Corbin, but I'm saving him for later.  Anyway, Danny hurts all the time.  You can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.  It's all he ever thinks about.  He needs Jesus and I've come to realize that I can't be Jesus for him either.  Again, totally unrealistic expectation for me to be Jesus.  I know; it's out there.  How do I do this?  Every night when I get him in bed, when I help him turn and get comfortable, I think about it.  It's difficult not to; can I do this for the rest of my life?  It's a harsh mirror to face and I honestly don't know the answer.  He's wiped out, dry and apathetic or am I really talking about me?  Maybe it's both of us.  Aren't we fun at parties?

Dear Diary,

I'm so angry on so many levels and the difficulty is, that I have no one to be mad at or take it out on.  Diary, on a side note, please forgive me ending sentences in prepositions.  Moving on...I'm so pissed.  It's wrong, wrong, wrong.  I know.  I hear you whispering...."all things work together for the good of those who love Jesus."  My response to that is for you to see the first entry on God's timing.  Blah!  You know what always comes to my mind?  The story of Jacob and Rebecca; a true love story.  Jacob worked for SEVEN years for Rebecca, only to get short changed with Leah.  So, he worked another SEVEN years and finally got Rebecca.  Fourteen years????  Please, God, don't make me wait 14 years for my Danny to come back.  I mean, we don't live to 900 anymore.  What the crap is happening here?  Why is God seemingly silent on the big things?   I know He's given us His Word, but most of the time, I read it and it hits like a speck of dust.  Nothing moves me anymore.  I don't seem to cry anymore.  When disappointment comes, I'm expecting it.  Why should anything be easy for me?  Why am I the one that has to work so hard to get through each day?  Diary, I know I'm being selfish right now, but aren't I allowed to wallow in this sometimes?  I know it sucks for Danny and it isn't fair for Corbin, though he knows no difference, for now, at least.  It isn't what my in-laws or my parents dreamed for their kids' lives either.  It takes so many people just to execute each day and get my three people through it.  How long do we have to depend on others, to be the burden, the difficulty?  I try to take it all so I'm not asking too much of others and I lose myself in the process.  So, I'm angry.  I'm angry about things that would be wrong to speak of, much less to write to my diary.  My heart feels like it's been colored with those black crayons; it hurts, but is now constantly protected for fear of more disappointment...mostly, in myself because I can't fix any of it.

Dear Diary,

Corbin is the greatest thing since sliced bread and peanut butter.  I love that kid.  Parenting is hard and seemingly harder in this journey.  I can't figure it out although, I would reason most parents figure it out along the way.  There are so many balls in the air with many different names and sometimes, Corbin gets pushed aside even though that isn't what I want.  I just can't be everywhere at one time and I can't be everything for everybody; those expectations creep in again.  Blasted!  Corbin is five and a half years old; he won't let me forget the half.  Before I blink my eyes, he's going to be leaving this house.  I don't want to screw up as a parent for uncontrollable circumstances.  I can't fix it.  I guess I just have to live through it.  But, getting through it, is easier with Corbin.  Maybe that is why God gave him to us unexpectedly?

Dear Diary,

You don't happen to have an Easy button, do you?  Or, a couple million dollars hanging around?  That would  help too.