the pretty vs. the ugly.

Do I even write this post?  Maybe I won't publish it, but I need to write it.  Does my life look perfect on Facebook?  I try not to make it that way but to some, maybe it does.  I know this Facebook issue has been studied, debated.  When a sweet friend mentioned to me that I sure do get to play a lot, it actually felt like someone punched me in the gut and ripped out all the pretty and fragile little flowers I had just worked so hard to grow.
Why?  It's true most of us only post the good pictures, the happy moments.  I have good friends, and we got to spend time at the cabin together and it filled my heart with such joy, I wanted to share it.  With who?  Facebook.  Why?  I'm not sure.
 I am up here again but with my sweet daughter, because the yard here has been so neglected that a full day of serious weeding is in order.  I post the pictures of us sharing time reading on the porch and assume others might fill in the left out details. ..yard work, pest control, cleaning, and other maintenance.   Don't assume I don't know how lucky I am to even have a vacation home.  I know.  And I know there are many who are not happy for me because I am spoiled.  I have learned through the years to discern those who find joy in my joy and celebrate with me and I have learned to discern those who see me as having it all.
Don't get me wrong.  I have also been guilty of assuming others have it better than me.  But life steps in and makes me fully aware this is just not true. We all have heartaches, trials, sorrows that we have to navigate through.  They are all different and unique to us all.
When I post a picture of my husband and I with our arms around each other looking the picture of bliss, I want you to know that I post it because I am strong enough to trust in it at this point.  I feel love for my husband so much that I want to share that joy with you.  Because we have almost lost each other more than once and I do not take for granted that those moments are hard fought for and special.
When I post a picture of my daughter and I having a girls day, smiling and being goofy, I  want you to know I do not post it to show you what a cool mom I am and how perfect my children are.  I feel such gratitude that this daughter is alive when she recently had such a close brush with death.  Because of her new chronic and life threatening disease I find we have to spend more time together which has become an amazing blessing in my life.  I post pictures of us because again, I am filled with joy to hear her laughter and be in her presence and so I share it with you.
When I post a selfie, I suppose it's a vain move.  (I try not to do it too often, that IS annoying to me)  But for me, it's always pleasant to see a healthy happy me, knowing what it is like to feel ugly and unappealing.  A fun, good selfie just is a good reminder of where I am...healthy and happy.  And sometimes...I share it so you can see that too.

I have been in low places.  I have put my "perfect life" out there before in the blogging world, long before most people knew what a blog was, and have reaped the consequences of people wanting my life and wishing it for thselves because theirs didn't feel as pretty.  Please know that my life might just look pretty because I choose to celebrate it.  I have always found joy in everything I can, and because of that, sometimes have not seen the lion lurking in the shadows. Yet I work hard every day to feel joy and be grateful.  Believe me, I could choose a much different approach to my life and I could post all that crap for you on Facebook.  But why would I?  It might be good for you to know I have been the victim of other people's choices.  And those choices took joy from my life.  I know what it is like to have anxiety and sadness and pain so badly that you cannot eat, or breathe right or even walk steady. And your faith wavers and your will to even be alive fails.  I became fragile, sick, confused, weak and out of options.  Except the option to fight.  To believe.  To stay vulnerable, to hold on to that teeny tiny mustard seed of faith, and take a giant leap that God was holding me and with me.
Any idea how hard it is to make it to this place I am right now?  I'm not telling you this to brag.
What would I be bragging about?  How strong I am? How amazing I am for getting through my ugly trials?  To let you know how much harder I've had it than you?  No.  Absolutely not.  Anyone who has gone through anything traumatic  knows you are left feeling very insecure, very vulnerable to criticisms and judgements.  You have trust issues and optimism is hard work.
But going through the ugly things does something else.  It makes us have a heightened awareness of what feels good.  Of what joy feels like.  And oh do I celebrate those moments.  And because I don't want to forget them or take them for granted...what do I do?  I post them on Facebook.  I'm still not sure why, except I usually post when I want to share that I am feeling happy.  Because that feeling is precious and I celebrate it.
So my fragile flower garden is still growing.  It's taken years of hard work and I won't let it be ripped away by my sensitivity to others perceptions of me. I can't.  I have come way too far to let myself give in to that.
But maybe it is a good reminder to me that our Facebook lives are just that...Facebook lives.  They are just snippets!  They don't tell the whole story or even half of it.  Our lives aren't perfect, but I will continue to share my joy with you, because joy comes in snippets.  I think most of us cherish our snippets!  And  i think maybe many of us, including myself must just find joy in the sharing.

finding our cabin.

I post a lot about our cabin.

A lot of people ask me how we found it.

So here is the story.

The Cabin...

 Before it was ours. 2013

Thanksgiving 2014

grandpa hummingbird.

This is a re-post from 2010 from my old blog.

I wanted to share it again.

It explains my love of hummingbirds.

 It is also a precursor to an upcoming post about how we found our cabin, 

and well...

I miss my Grandpa today.

When I was a little girl, my grandparents lived in New York.

I grew up in Washington state.

Every few years we would pile into the red VW bus and make the trip.

What brave parents I had, driving 4 noisy kids across the country.

But it was always worth the crazy drive.

me and grandpa

From the time I was little, I can remember my Grandpa slipping me money.

While my siblings all got a five dollar bill, my Grandpa would sneak me a twenty.

I'm not sure what he liked about me, but it's safe to say I was his favorite.

I know my siblings were aware, but to their credit, they never got mad at me for it.

grandpa during the war

Grandpa served in World War II.

Whatever he saw and did there took its toll, and we always knew him to be a bit "crazy".

And yet, he wasn't.

He was also gentle, sweet, loving and hilarious.

He could make you laugh till you cried.

One day as we were all sitting around chatting outside,

we were interrupted by the hum of wings.  

Hummingbirds!  Taking little sips of red liquid from the feeder.

We rarely saw hummingbirds back in Washington, so it was a real treat.

That is the day "crazy" Grandpa turned into "Grandpa Hummingbird".

Because he got us kids giggling as he flapped his wings, and pretended to sip red liquid from the feeder.

my "boyfriend"

As I grew older, Grandpa would call me often from New York.

Each time he called, the conversation went something like this...

"Is this Shelli?  Well, hello Shelli, this is a boy from down the street.  I think you 

are so beautiful, I really want to go out with you.  Will you go out with me?

Maybe we could go rollerskating.  Would you like to go rollerskating with me?"

And each time I would laugh and tell him I would love to rollerskate with him.

Then he would laugh and tell me it was really Grandpa Hummingbird.

As if I didn't know.

When I was 19, and away at college, my mom called to let me know

that Grandpa had passed away.

I was sure I hadn't heard her right, but I can still remember that punch in the gut.

I quietly went outside, sat against my roommate's old car tire, and balled my eyes out.

Did you know my Grandpa loved flowers?

He loved to garden.

The whole time I knew him, I was never interested in flowers.

Funny that it is one of my passions now.

Many years after he was gone, my mom gave me 2 wrinkled 

packets of flower seeds and a note that she had tucked away from my Grandpa.

They are Zinnia seeds.  One of my favorites.

And in his handwriting is my name written on each packet.

The note says, "Dear Debby (my mom),  Just came back from the nursery.  

New seeds.  I get a big kick looking at seeds.  These are for Shelli, NOT for you Debby!  HA!"

Now..I get a kick out of that note.

And the fact that he bought Zinnia seeds for me when I was an uninterested teen.
 

A few years ago my Grandma gave me a leather bound book, and a small jewelry box.

Inside the book are clippings of Grandpa's tennis tournaments he played

as a young man in Buffalo, New York.

And in the jewelry box are several gold charms that he won playing tennis.

I do treasure these.

I love hummingbirds.  I always have.

I have been lucky enough to see at least one every year that I have had a garden.

This year, the plants I put in to attract them had matured.

AND I tried a hummingbird feeder.

I love that I saw more hummingbirds this year than any other!

My kids laugh at my excitement when I see one...but they get it.

They never got to meet Grandpa, but they know the stories.

They know why hummingbirds make me happy.
And now so do you.

do you have a story?

I have a story.
Do you?
 I think if you are asking yourself right now if you have a story, then you may not have one...yet.  And if you do have a story, you thought of it quickly and maybe even nodded, or said aloud...Yes!
 My friend calls them "crap" stories.
That might be an adequate term.  Some people have lots of them.
Some maybe not so much.
But I think we all KNOW people who have crap stories.
 And they are all different and unique to us.

 I'm talking about the stories of experiences in our lives that may grab us,
 that blindside us and take us on rides we never imagined or maybe never even wanted.  The stories that shake us to the core and bring us to our knees.
The stories that bring out things in us we never knew even existed...agony, doubt, sorrow, excruciating pain, anger, bitterness, bewilderment, desperation and despair.
These are things we hear about others experiencing
 and we hope it doesn't happen to us.

But I'm willing to bet most of us have a crap story.
 I'm not sure you can make it through this life without one.
And lately I've come to wonder...would we really want to go through this life without one?  Or two?  Or ten?
Well, maybe not ten.

Because what if life was smooth all the time?  It sounds heavenly, right?
And when you are in the middle of your battle...all you want is peace.
All you want is the smooth.  You pray and wish with all your might that it was smooth.  But what if it WAS always smooth?  Would we learn anything?  Would we grow at all?  Would we find out what we are truly made of and eventually be able to rejoice in our triumph?  Would we learn to be humble?  Forgiving?  Patient?  Empathetic?  Faithful?  Teachable?  Tolerant?  Charitable?

Sometimes a crap story can go on for years, maybe even a lifetime.
 And I can only speak from my own experience,
 but there are days you want to throw in the towel.
 There are times it seems it should be easier, but it isn't. 

BUT...with each trial I encounter I learn more and more.  Whether I want to or not!
 It is my choice whether I fight or give up.
It is my choice whether I give in to negatives or focus on the positives.
And there are consequences to my choices.

For me to even be able to write anything like this regarding a crap story
 is a positive for me.  It is a step for me.
It is acknowledging that even though I have hated my trial, I am better for it.
 I am learning from it.
 I am putting my arm around it like a friend, and saying, "Yes, you happened, and I don't really like that.  But...you are teaching me some things.  Some amazing things.  And I won't deny that you helped me, even when I thought you would destroy me."
 I'm pretty sure that is progress, because there have been many times I didn't want to put my arm around it.
I wanted to kick it and stomp on it and scream at it and well...kill it. 

Hope is essential.  And in my book so is faith.  And people who love you.

Bad things happen to good people.  It is life.  And life isn't fair.  

But I believe good things can happen to all of us.  I believe God wants us to be happy. 

I am sure a crap story can destroy us.  But I am also sure a crap story can better us.

I am learning that I can change weakness and despair
 into strength and hope.

I'm learning it is okay to put your arm around your crap story,
and dare I say maybe even be thankful for it?

I'm not saying it's easy.
I'm just saying...it is possible.

Magic.

Okay, since I am so out of the habit of blogging,

this is a little slow-going.

But...I will keep at this!

I was reading over some of my blog entries from my old blog

and I was really enjoying it.

(www.sketchersue.blogspot.com)

I'm going to be honest here.

I was a little sad to read my peppy, optimistic, sometimes funny posts.  

Why sad?

Because I miss that girl.

She was carefree and happy.

Yep, that was my blog..."Happy Girl".

BUT...

(and I do like big buts in this case)

I was also excited.

Why excited?

Because it gives me hope!

I think she is still in here... that optimistic, peppy girl.

I see glimpses of her now and then.

 

And that leads us to a big glimpse I'd like to share with you...

That happy place I told you about that I love with all my heart...

OUR CABIN.

 

I told you it had magic, right?

It does.

I don't lie.

Our first Christmas there was the best week of my life.

And although Trev isn't blogging this time around,

he has agreed with me.

I'm just going to stop typing now, and post lots of pictures.

Because I think pictures are fun.

And good for remembering.

And I want to remember.

Because this is good stuff.  Good memories.

Happy things.

And trust me...happy is huge.

Oh and one more thing...

we call our place "cabin".

We do know it really is more of a house

 in the mountains surrounded by forest and wildlife.

But to us it is "cabin".

 

 

 Finding our Christmas tree.

Our first time ever cutting down our own!

 Loaded up and ready to go.

Lights on.  Cozy.

Making our own decorations for the tree.

Trevor's mom called and asked what we were doing.

When he replied we were all making decorations,

she was pleasantly proud of him for being involved.

If she saw this, she would sigh with understanding.

Although he really DID help make decorations.

 

 Rachel's pretty little pinecone tree.

We had only heard about the amazing Christmas lights in Leavenworth.

What a magical place!

The girls copying the mannequins.  :)

Joyous.

 It was so cold, but not too cold for Trev, his loyal dog, and the hammock.

 Christmas morning.  So lovely.

Ready to sled!!

We have the best sledding hill around!

Pure joy right there.

Me and my trusty sled.

 The race.  

Trev went off the edge.  Tanner in lead followed by Sky.

Googles had that smile plastered to her face each run.

Googles had a birthday!

The big 10!

Thanks to Pinterest, she got her very own vanilla chocolate

swirl mug cake.  Yummo.

 They share a birthday.

But he got a pumpkin roll cake.

Did I already say yummo?

This girl was outside all the time.

Doing this.

Up behind our cabin the fog rolled in.

If you keep going straight up, you might see a BEAR

Like we did on our hike!!

 You can shoot arrows with a sock monkey hat on.

In fact it's more fun that way.

I would know.

Our archers.

This is what Cotton did the whole vacation.

Who can blame him?  He is a smart dog.

 Hope your Christmas was cozy, magical AND happy!

 

 

begin again.

This year is almost over.  

The year 2014 is just around the corner.  

And I am glad.  

This has been a year filled with unexpecteds.  Things that have tried, wrenched, pushed and pulled.  But also things that have taught, strengthened, and blessed.  It has taken me almost a full year to finally be able to focus on the "blessed" part.

And that is where we will start our new story.  

After many years of letting blogging fall to the wayside, Trevor and I have made a joint decision to start it up again.  

But the fun twist is that we are going to blog together.

This is a journal of us.  And for us.

Of our family. 

 Of our blessings.  

And of course, our crazy adventures and misadventures as well.

We will begin our story with a cabin...

because we have been blessed with a cabin.

Not just any cabin.

This cabin has been a gift.  A magical, beautiful gift.

It is a place of peace, love and beauty.

A refuge and a haven.

A new beginning.

And so...

let's begin!