Memorial Day

I have never put much though into Memorial Day.

I'm sure that's bad to say.

I get a day off work, and usually a burger, so all in all its a okay by way of being a holiday in my book.

Today I got a different outlook.

We watched a short video in church, as we usually do for a holiday.

I like the videos.

They usually get the point across more than someone just speaking.

 I guess to get something to hit home I need a visual.

(Although I'm not sure what exactly in it sparked my way of thinking.) 

Todays video was footage of soldiers fighting.

It spoke of sacrifice and our freedom.

Both I know I take for granted.  

I don't know too many men or women personally who have fought or are fighting now but I do know some.

While sitting there I started to think of the soldiers and their wives, children mothers and fathers.

I couldn't imagine going months with out seeing your son, daughter, husband, wife, mother or father.

Knowing they are where the are but doubting their safety.

Seeing and doing the unspeakable.

Or those men or women who are fighting now at 18, 19, and 20.

They are so young to be doing something so brave.

I don't think I could ever be brave in that way.  

My father passed away March 4, 2012.

He was 66 years old.

He died in a Days Inn Motel. Alone.

The official reason he died is unknown.

We do know he drank.

He drank a lot. So much so his body quit on him.

He was an alcoholic.

He made some pretty horrible decisions in his life. A lot of the contributing to his death and the fact that he died alone.

When my father passed away I didn't have any sort of relationship with him.

I didn't want to.

My mind was completely closed to any sort of compassion or understanding to the way he lived his life or the choices he made.

Today I still don't agree with a lot of the things he did but I feel the Lord has opened my heart a little.

I never thought I would be but I am thankful.

When my father was 17 years old he joined the United States Navy.

He set out to war. The Vietnam War to be exact.

Not sure if you are picking up what I am throwing down but just in case Ill repeat myself.

WAR!

We are talking guns, blood, death.

I'm sure in my wildest dreams I couldn't even begin to imagine what that was like.

From 1962 - 1966 my dad served on the U.S.Ranger

(When I was 17, I worked at retail store and was graduating high school.

And believe me life was "hard" by way of an immature girl standards.)

He, like so many others as 17 and was fighting for his life.

(for me understanding and compassion have started to sink in)

After my dad came home he got married an had 3 kids.

He drank. He made some bad choices. He left.

He got married again, he had 2 sons. He drank. He made some bad decisions. He left.

Then he married my mom. He drank. And didn't drink. And drank again.

Then my little brother and I were born. He drank when were really little and then he stopped.

And then he was a good dad (kind of).

He played with us. And spoiled us. 

He worked hard.

We went to Disneyland quite a few times.

And as I got older we would play basketball outside for hours.

I was young, naïve and pretty darn happy.

Ill even go as for to say that I loved him.

When I was 15 that world ended.

 He started drinking again and did some pretty unspeakable things.

He then went to prison for 4 years.

I never thought I would understand why he did all the horrible things he did or why he abandoned 7 children who desperately needed a father.

I still don't, and am sure I never will.

But I feel I have a better understanding as to why he drank.

I am not sure when exactly but I know my dad was diagnosed with PTSD.

An article posted at www.physiologicallytoday.com defines PTSD as

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is an anxiety disorder that may develop after exposure to a terrifying event or ordeal in which severe physical harm occurred or was threatened. Traumatic events that may trigger PTSD include violent personal assaults, natural or unnatural disasters, accidents, or military combat. 

It continue on to say,

Roughly 30 percent of Vietnam veterans developed PTSD. The disorder also has been detected in as many as 10% of Gulf War (Desert Storm) veterans, about 6% to 11% of veterans of the Afghanistan war, and about 12% to 20% of veterans of the Iraq war.

30 %??

This statistic is staggering.

I know this is why he drank. I know this is why he left time after time.

I hate it.

Why has this never hit me before?

I couldn't imagine having to deal with the images and sounds of war replaying over and over in my mind.

My father was a Vietnam Veteran who suffered for 45 years with PTSD.

My mom is a widow who stuck by an alcoholic for 35 years of marriage.

All while raising 5 children and obtaining an associates degree. 

I am a 27 year old daughter with 3 children who has lost her father.

I would have loved to have a father and have my children have a grandpa.

But those things will never be.

He has now passed.

His story stinks but that alone is not the worst part.

The worst part is I am not alone.

I know their are many men and women who have fought in the past, recently, or are currently fighting who suffer with PTSD.

I know that their are mothers, fathers, sons, daughter, husbands and wives who are dealing with the effects that it has on their loved ones themselves.

I am sad that the price so many have paid for my freedom has not hit me sooner.

I am thankful for the sacrifice that has been made. I am confident my outlook on Memorial Day will be quite a bit different from today on.

The question of if my dad was a good person is still up for debate.

He is defiantly not winning father of the year any time soon.

But I have a new respect for him and all those who have fought that wasn't their before.

Thank you to all those who have sacrificed their lives for my freedom.

************************

I am also thankful the my true Father.

The One who has opened my world to sacrifice, compassion, love, forgiveness, and freedom.

It is to Him that we are all truly in debt.



  



New Adventures

I have always enjoyed taking care of people. 

If any one needs a hug, a band aid, or a blanket I'm your girl. 

I think for this reason alone I have always wanted to be a nurse. 

I have waited a long time to go to school and get a degree. 

But now is the time.
 

I have taken my entrance exam, worked out my financial aid, received my class schedule and even some pretty unattractive scrubs to wear to class. 

Starting Wednesday evening I will be a full time nursing student.
 

I am excited and honestly right now I am terrified. 

I am a full time wife. 

I am a full time mother. 

And I am a full time employee. 

Taking on this new adventure kind of makes me feel full time crazy. 

I don't know I am ready to sleep less.
Im not sure I a ready miss out on putting Jack, Lucy, or Max to bed because I am in school or working late.
I don't want to have to choose between a clinical or lab and spending time with my children.
I don't want to miss anything!
BUT...

I know that in the long run this will give me more time with them and better opportunities. 

So, with that being said.
I. Will. Succeed. 

In 3 years I will be a registered nurse. 

I will graduate collage with a Bachelors degree. 

I will be a better partner for my husband. (Once I get to sleep through the night) 

I will be a better example for my children. 

And I will be a full time employee in a job I hope to love. 

I am praying I survive this adventure.

I know Ill need

Lots of coffee.
Lots of support.

Lots of studying

Lots of prayer.
 

And hopefully Ill survive. 

So ready or not it's time for a new adventure.
Wish me luck. 

8 months

This sleepy fellow is 8 months old today.

8 months going on 3 years.

He is such a big boy all of a sudden.

He wants so badly to hang out with his brother and sister.

It seems as though each day he is learning to do something new.

From 7 months to 8 months he went from army crawling, to crawling, to pulling him self up to anything and everything and standing.

I predict he will be walking with a huge amount of pride by about 9 1/2 months old.

He is so proud of what he can do.

Matt and I on the other hand can't believe it. Especially with how much baby proofing we have had to do. Again!!

He is currently drinking formula bottles only. At first this was a hard transition but seems to be doing very well now.

He eats lots of different fruits and veggies and loves carrots and blueberries the most.

Sleep.. it is still a work in progress. This last week he has woken up 1-2 times each night which is very much an improvement from a month ago and even more so, Daddy can help now!! Yay.

Max loves his blankies at night. He is very much a Ririe in that sense.

He still only has his 2 bottom teeth. Part of me is hoping it stay this way for awhile longer because his two teeth smile is the cutest thing ever.

He is still full of smiles and has the sweetest personality ever and we love it and him.



Gratitude

Not long ago I read a story about a mother who recently lost her 3 year old son. http://www.babyboybakery.com/It was a freak accident. He was playing in his front yard and ran in the road to chase his ball, and that was it. 

He was hit by a truck passing by and died. 

Oh. my. gosh.

To imagine the pain that mother is going through makes it hard to breath.

So many prayers have gone her way.

Last Wednesday I got a taste of something I never want to experience again.

I had just gotten off work and was headed to our babysitters home to pick up the little's. 

When she called, crying.

"I want you to know everyone is okay, but we were just in a car accident and I need you here now." 

My. heart. sank.

As she told me where she was (just minutes away) I drove. I prayed. and prayed again.

She was pulled over on the side of the road in her blue-gray Expedition. 

In the middle of the road was a little red Toyota; glass shattered everywhere. 

I parked and ran to a blonde woman standing on the side of the road, on the phone crying, 

(okay so here is where the pep talk to my self comes in, "self, no matter what you find in the next couple minutes you do. and by do. I mean be Brave. No matter what you see, be Brave")

" Mam, are you okay? Your shaking, are you hurt?"

"No," she said. "I'm fine" (she kept crying, I made her sit down)

Then I noticed her car door was stuck to the front of Christy's car. I held my breath and ran to Christy. She was still sitting in her car; crying.

"Are you ok? 

Are you hurt?

 Did you call the police? 

Are the kids okay?

 Is your husband coming?"

 As I drilled her she just cried, "I love you kids, I would never hurt them."

I know.

I believed her. She is the kind of wonderful blessing only The Lord could have handpicked Himself for our family.

I know this was not her fault.

My kids...... 

 I took a huge breath and held it as I opened the back door to check on my babies.

There he was Max in the middle seat with the biggest smile you have ever seen.

 As if to scream in joy, "Mom, hey, what are you doing here. I never see you here." And Jack and Lucy in the back seat smiling, 

"Hey mom we were in a car accident, but we are fine." Jack said. 

"Are you hurt?" I asked, "Oh no we are just fine." said my Lucy.

The next moments are a blur, we prayed and thanked The Lord everyone was safe. The police showed up. The damage was assessed and information was exchanged.

The Toyota was towed away, totaled I'm sure.

Christy's husband was able to drive their car home and damage that can and will be repaired was all to come of it. 

I loaded my children in my car and started to drive home. I made it a mile or so down the road when it hit me.

All the air escaped from my lungs and I started to cry.

I could have lost them.

Oh.My.Gosh.

Matt and I's whole world was in that car.

What would I have done?

How could I breath. 

How would I be able to function if they were taken from me?

Honestly I don't know if I could.

 But I know that parents are going through losses of this nature on a daily basis.

How the do it I hope to never know. But I do know,

I know The Lord gives and He can take away. 

I know they are only my temporary gift. 

They are not mine forever, they are His

They are my temporary, amazing and beautiful gift that I could never thank Him enough for.

I never want to taste again what I did that day. 

But I am so thankful for the gratitude it has given me. 

I am so thankful for these 3 blessings Matt and I get to raise. 

I am thankful for every kiss,hug and I miss you. 

Every laugh, smile and cry. 

Every cuddle, sick day, and moment I get to take watching them sleep.

Every picture they draw or moment the learn something new. 

I am thankful for how much they make me love their Papa.

And how much closer I have become to The Lord because of them.

I pray that I never take them for granted and or waste a single moment The Lord has given me being their Mommy. 

Thank you!