Poetry emotion....

I've been told in recent years that I'm creative. I was never told that as a child. Not that my mother didn't praise me, I owe my creativity to her, but it was just not something said to me. In fact, hearing people I consider creative tell me of my so-called abilities, has actually been difficult for me. I've decided that although flattering, it's a lot of pressure. Pressure? To be called creative? Yep, pressure. You see, when when others take part in something you've created, and comment on it positively, it makes you feel self-conscious. Atleast that's how I feel. I'm not saying I don't appreciate the compliments, I do. I think sometimes I work so hard on whatever it is I'm doing just to receive compliments from certain people. So, it doesn't matter what was created, but rather who enjoys the creation.... ( Are you following me? I don't feel I'm making a whole lot of sense. Maybe not so creative in blogging tonight.)
Anyway, I have been recognized by people I love and respect for my creativity in certain areas including my cooking (Kyle's favorite), my cake decorating skills (wedding cakes in particular), my artistic abilities (my fellow educators borrow my talents regularly), and decorative arts (painting, cards, soon to be scrapbooking). But tonight, I'm going to open myself up to possible criticism and compliment. I'm sharing with you a side of me that I've only shared with 2 people ~ Kyle and my friend Yolanda, a very talented poet.
I've always enjoyed poetry. Sometimes in life your feelings are so strong that a poem is the only release. There have been 2 times in my life when the words flowed everyday for days on end, and I had to get them out in order to feel that release. The first time is when I was engaged to Kyle. I wrote lots of gooey love poems about him and how I felt and how awesome God was to bring him into my life. I hope to share some of those with you some day. But tonight, I'll share one or two from the other time period. About six months after the accident it began it flow again. The need to write still flows, though this bloggin thing has helped a lot.
So here it goes, Words...

Sometimes I can't put it into words,
Words are just words.
They name, but can't feel the agony I feel.
I could write a thousand words,
but not one could describe.
Love is such a pitiful 4-letter word
for the feeling I have for you still.
Anguish doesn't begin to tell the pain
I feel in the pit of my soul.
Gone doesn't tell the extent
of how far away you are
or that you're NEVER coming back.
I just can't put my heartache
into words.....


How am I doing?

A friend called the other day
to see how I've been.
I told her "I'm okay,"
but you know, lyin's a sin.
I'm hiding my pain from the ones
who just can't understand.
And laughing as they joke with me
about finding another man.
My life with you as it was,
still so fresh in my mind.
Yet somedays it seems that years have passed
since I held your hand in mine.
'It never gets better, just different,'
a friend of mine has said.
But how can I convince my heart,
if I can't get it through my head?

Still Mrs.....

Yesterday was picture day at school. All the little girls dressed up in their frills and curls, boys in their new polos, and make up on the teachers. I marched my little ones into the room where they were taking the pictures and began to check them out to make sure none of them had restyled their hair, or the girls hadn’t gone crazy with the lip gloss, when the photographer asked me my name. He followed with “Miss, Ms., or Mrs.?” I didn’t know how to answer him. I panicked and turned around to ask Brandi, our office manager, “I’m still Mrs., right?” “Yes,” she said and gave me a look like she was surprised I questioned.
That was the start of a very difficult day for me. In that moment in time, I wasn’t sure who I was… what is my identity now? Who am I as a person?
I blogged earlier about that widow word, and I am starting to identify with that, but I still struggle with who I am now. Am I single or ‘single again’ or am I still considered married? When people look at me, do they still see my ring on my left hand and think I’m married, or do they know the truth? For that matter what is the truth? For the last 11 months I’ve said I still feel married, but do I still? I’m not really sure….. When my friends talk about their husbands, I usually begin to throw in my comments about how Kyle is, what he does……but shouldn’t it be how he was, what he did? Confusion has surrounded me since October 9, and I’m not sure it’s getting better….in fact I think it’s getting worse the closer I get back around to the date.
When am I no longer a ‘married woman’? When do I take off my ring and start wearing it on my right hand? When do I get to fall asleep without a tear in my eye? When do I get to sleep through the night and not wake up in a panic because he’s not there? When do I get back to normal? What is normal?
I know that you can’t answer these questions….perhaps there’s only one who can. But I need to see a light at the end of this tunnel before my train runs out of steam.

Music has been my outlet the last year. There’s a song on Loretta Lynn’s album Van Leer Rose called “Miss Being Mrs.” (there’s my country roots comin’ out). It speaks my heart's pain.



I lie here all alone,
In my bed of memories.
I’m dreamin’ of your sweet kiss,
Oh, how you loved on me.

I can almost feel you with me,
Here in this blue moonlight,
Oh, I miss being Mrs., tonight.

Like so many other hearts,
Mine wanted to be free,
I’ve been put here every day,
Since you’ve been away from me.

My reflection in the mirror,
It’s such a hurtful sight,
Oh, I miss being Mrs., tonight.

And how I loved them loving arms,
That once held me so tight,
I took off my wedding band,
And put it on my right hand,
I miss being Mrs., tonight


Oh, I miss being Mrs., tonight
And how I loved them loving arms,
That once held me so tight,
I took off my wedding band,
And put it on my right hand,
I miss being Mrs., tonight
Oh, I miss being Mrs., tonight

Humility calls

First let me apologize for not blogging for a bit, but life around here's been crazy. I've spent the last few evenings in the hospital with Pam. She's doing better though, and finally went home today. For those of you that don't know, Pam is my adopted mom. She took Kyle and I both in as family and refers to us as her two oldest. So along with that, I now have another brother, sister, dad and extended family. Speaking of this family, I spent the weekend with them last weekend. Usually when I spend the weekend with them we're camping, but this time we went to southern Indiana for a retreat weekend with their church. This retreat was held at a Baptist camp..... an oldschool camp. (Let me take this opportunity to remind those of you who know me, how I was raised. A certain someone would tell me I was going straight to hell for going to a Baptist camp. Fortunately, I don't listen to him anymore, but my God was glad I was there.)
I guess I've been spoiled by going to college campuses for camps the past several years. You know, dorm rooms with private baths and air conditioning..... Well, this camp had cinder block cabins with attic fans, not a.c., and you had to walk to the bath house. Now, I need you to understand that I'm not high maintenance, but I am a little spoiled when it comes to that sort of thing. So with my spoiledness firmly in hand, I marched into the cabin and began to complain about everything. I wasn't being whiny, but sarcastically rude. God decided if I was going to get anything out of the weekend, he needed to knock me off my high horse. So, here we go..... after claming my bunk (the bottom of course) I set my full large iced Coke on the top bunk, and decide to sit on my bed to get things unpacked. Well, as I was talking to Pam I threw my pillow up top to get it out of the way..... go ahead.... you can imagine what happened next.... I was drenched in ice cold coke. Oh, yeah, it was hot out, so I'd just changed into 1 of only 2 pair of shorts I brought that were now also drenched. So, after cleaning up the mess, I decided to take a shower before all the bugs in a 3 mile radius were attracted to my new found sweetness. I walked to the shower house with my showerbag and clean, dry clothes in outstretched hands, and began to get ready. Just before I stepped in, I reached into my bag for the shampoo.... none to be found. No conditioner either! I had to get back into my sticky clothes to go borrow some. While I was in the shower I realized this was God's way of saying "Angi, get over yourself!"
Needless to say, the rest of the weekend went better. There were several times that I was moved to tears, and I know that the Holy Spirit was there. It's funny to me how the things that moved me most were the same ones that would've made me uncomfortable or offended me a few years ago. I guess what I'm saying is I've stretched and grown. Isn't God amazing? He put me in my place and opened my heart at the same time. amazing.....

Momma

Two years ago today, I got the news I knew was coming, but deeply dreaded... My mom had passed away. So many times after tragedy strikes, you feel as though it happened just yesterday, and yet a lifetime ago. I guess that's how I feel about losing Momma.
Momma was my best friend (until I married Kyle). We talked about everything, and understood each other in ways I can't describe to you now. Within a few seconds of calling, we could tell the mood of each other, if something was wrong, or if everything was right. There was a deepness to our relationship that I miss. I'm not saying we had the perfect mother/daughter relationship - far from it. But we knew if ever there was a need, the other one would be there.
My mom was unforgettable. When I was about three years old, my first memory was going on vacation to the Smoky Mountains of east Tennessee. I remember clearly riding the ski lift to the top of the mountain, and turning around to see Momma in the lift behind me. On that trip, we also went into Cherokee, NC, and I had my picture taken with an Indian chief. I tell you that story to tell you this one. At 13, we returned to the mountains, and mom wanted to find that same chief to have my picture with 10 years later. Well, he was no longer in the same place, and was not going by the same name, so we thought he wasn't around anymore. On our way out of town Mom yelled for us to pull over. She spotted him! As we walked up, HE recognized her!
He asked her if she was the lady with the little girl several years ago. Do you realize how many pictures that man had posed for??? Like I said, unforgettable.
My mom was compassionate. I could tell you story after story of how she blessed peoples lives. Anytime someone she knew was in need, she'd jump at the chance to help.
My mom was an incredible cook. She could go look in the fridge, grab a few things and make an incredible meal out of what seemed like nothing. She did things the old-fashioned way because she believed that it was better for her family. She instilled in me the love of decorating cakes. I couldn't have had my wedding cake like I wanted it without her.
My mom was patient. She had a rough go of it most of her life. She, like so many women of her generation, was not appreciated by the men in her life (until my brother and husband came along). I watched her stick it out even though I know there were days she wanted to leave.
My mom was a Christian. She did what she knew was right, whether or not it was painful for her. She heard the condemning words of another, but listened to the heart of God.
My mom was an inspiration to me then and continues to be now. I hope that I can be the kind of woman she was. I hope that when I'm gone, people will speak of me like they speak of her. I know that I will see her someday and tell her once again, "I love you, Momma."

Widow???

So I was playing around on my blog this morning trying to figure out a few things like how to customize my counter, why the new links I tried to install aren't showing up, when I read the title and description of my blog.
Good Grief is the title of a novel I'm reading about a young woman who is trying to deal with living after her husband passes from cancer. (That's right, I stole the title... Oh, well... you'll get over it.) Then I read the description of my blog, that I wrote myself, and yet was shocked by...... a young Christian WIDOW??? The word pierced through me. I don't feel like a widow! Widows are little old ladies you see at church sitting in the same pew every Sunday, missing their husbands ~ the father of their adult children and grandfather of their 9 grandkids, the man they were married to for over forty years... Not a 28 year old with so much of her life still ahead of her!
I still remember the first time that word slapped me in the face. I was sitting in a doctor's office 2 weeks after the accident waiting for what seemed like hours and filling out the "War and Peace" version of the patient info, when I came to the all important check off of marital status. ~~~ I recall the first time that I was able to check MARRIED!!! I wanted to stand up and shout "Hey, everybody! Look at me! I get to check married on this form. Me! The one that was told she'd never find anyone to love her just the way she is. Me! I'm joyously married to the man of my dreams! NaNaNuNaNa!" (Insert smartypants tongue stick out here) ~~~ This time I did not want to stand up and shout. This time I wanted to shrivel into my seat ~ find a hole and crawl into it. I started to tear up. I realized for the first time that from now on, everytime I filled out a medical form, job application, or church attendance card I had to admit to the vulnerability of being a widow, a single again.
I hate that word! Widow. What kind of word is that anyway? When I was younger I'd here that word and think of venemous spiders and mean little old blue hairs and people that had nothing to do with me. But the last few years I've been surrounded by it. All three of my dad's sisters are widows, both of my grandmothers, my dad is a widower, and now in my twenties I'm staring it in the face. I hate that word, and yet feel a need to embrace it. How do you embrace something so painful?
I struggle with my new found status. Anyone close to me knows the battles I'm going through right now, but I'm determined. God didn't spare me from the accident for me to spend the rest of my life like I died that day. I'll be honest. Sometimes I feel like my heart died that day and there have been days I wish I had, but I must keep on living -- not just existing but living. How do I do that? How?

Thanks for sticking with me through this long post.

I'll fly away

So my friend Niki and I were on the phone yesterday and we decided to go ahead and book flights for ourslelves. She is coming to Indy to help me through the first anniversary of losing Kyle, (which I cannot put into words how much that means to me) and I'll be flying out to Denver to spend Christmas and New Years with them again this year. I'm really excited about going out there. I've always wanted to go back to Colorado, and I get the added bonus of spending two weeks with some of my favorite people in the world!
The only problem I forsee is a fear of being hurled through the air at a thousand miles an hour 100 miles above the earth's surface. Of course I'm speaking of the actual experience of flying. I think the fear is my own fault.... the first time I flew was from Little Rock, AR to Canberra, Australia. Spending 23 hours getting on and off of air planes was not the way to initiate a newbie into the love of aviation.
But it's not just the flying I don't like... I don't like the confusion of airports. I'm a bit of a worrier, so you can imagine how the thought of going through security checkpoints and luggage claim and boarding and finding the correct gate and terminal and... and... and.... And you know in the name of not profiling they'll pick out my cute little blonde headed, blue eyed self ~ okay big blonde headed, blue eyed self as a target for a more personal search technique. AAUUUGGGHHHH!!!!
So, I've got 4 months to stress. Pray for my peace of mind, or that I'll atleast keep a piece of my mind through the experience.


Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with the resources to fly out to CO, and for the reasons I'm going. Thank you for Niki and Benny and their kids I can't wait to see. Bless them. God, please give me a calmness about the journey to which I look forward.