I feel like I'm at a cross-roads in my life. I actually arrived here a while ago, but have just sort of been camping out alongside the road for a bit, trying to decide which way to go. I really have no idea. So, there I sit. Not deciding. Not thinking too much (well, trying not to think too much). Waiting. The "W" word. There it is again. It's become the operative word in my life these past several years, it seems.

I don't really know what to share these days, with you. I don't know what to say. Here, in my holding pattern, I feel invisible as I observe those around me--enclosed in a one-way glass box.  I am not a part of that world around me. I'm not sure which world it is that I am a part of--maybe some day it will become clear. Am I the only one keeping myself out of the world I am meant to belong to? Am I too reluctant to give up the world I dreamed and hoped and prayed for--too sad and scared to let it all go, whatever casualties come with it?

How long can I continue putting off taking one path over another? Will I be able to recognize when the time is right to make that move--to figure out where I should be going, and, ultimately, where I belong?

-Em

I haven't posted about our Christmas, anniversary, New Year's, or how my first semester of teaching ended, I see. As you know, the last several weeks have been difficult, and now, looking at them here from the other side, I mostly marvel that we made it through without any major casualties at our house. I guess sometimes that's all you can really hope for, right? To survive?

I submitted grades for my first two college classes just a few days before Christmas. All of the grading of final papers, portfolios, and then calculating final grades was tedious, time-consuming, and well, crazy. I have already modified my syllabi for spring semester classes, which officially start this week, to have a little less due all at once at the end...if only for my own sanity's sake. I mentioned earlier in the semester that I had some difficult students and growing pains getting used to teaching college kids. Though I still have a lot of room for improvement, I was beyond surprised to have students send  me thank you notes for a successful semester. (I know, right? Even for the profs I really liked and enjoyed in college, I don't remember doing that, so I guess I must not have completely scarred these students for life. Phew!) As you can imagine, I have been busy planning this semester's courses ever since the last two ended (well, technically, before they ended). Have I ever mentioned that I have more respect for teachers than I've ever had in my life (and I had a lot of respect before); it really is a never-ending task.

To briefly re-cap the holidays for us (even if it seems a bit silly to be doing so this late)...

On Christmas Eve, Drew and I had our own little celebration. We made dinner and dessert together at home and exchanged the little gifts we put in each other's stockings. It wasn't much this year, but that made it even better, I think. Gift giving and receiving is so much nicer when it's about thoughtfulness rather than cost, size, or quantity.

Christmas morning, we packed up ourselves and gifts and drove down to K'Zoo to spend the day with Drew's side of the family. His older sister, Luanne, and her husband hosted this year, and it was nice having it be just the immediate family this year, rather than the whole rolicking crew of Polish relatives (not that I don't love 'em, but it takes away from the quality time with each other when that's our main get-together). Brie and Charles were up visiting from Kentucky with our nieces Mikayla, Kiya, and Kaitlyn, and Luanne and Tim's son, Lucas, we soon found out, had really come out of his shell since we'd last seen him this summer. It was nice spending time with our four little squirts. A few snapshots can be seen here.

On New Year's Eve, we both took the day off work for our third wedding anniversary. We booked the suite in which we were married at the Khardomah Lodge in Grand Haven. Unfortunately, our stay was disappointing. Although it was nice to re-visit where our small ceremony took place, the room itself was cold (and even the fireplace didn't help warm up the space much), the bed was hard, and the other guests were LOUD. We had people staying above and below us, and both were groups (one a dancing group, I might add). It did little to enhance our romantic mini-getaway. The noise kept us awake most of the morning hours, and at about 7 a.m., we looked at each other, bleary-eyed, and decided to just pack up and go home.

Though neither of us had the full time off of work between Christmas and New Year's that we used to have at our previous company, this past week was our first full week back at work. We've been getting a lot of snow this weekend, and more is forecast for much of this week. It definitely feels like early January around here. I don't have any resolutions this year (haven't decided whether this is good or bad), but I am appreciative of a fresh start. A blank slate, with many open, unwritten months ahead is always good for the psyche after another difficult year. There is potential in those empty days ahead...hope for something better.

-Em

I had a really bad day yesterday. I don't know if it was hormonal, seasonal, or a combination of both, but I felt sad, angry, and bitter all at once. I cried hot, angry tears. I threw things. I took out my frustrations on my husband. I felt like being mean. I wanted someone else to understand how badly I was hurting. "No one understands how badly, how deeply, I hurt," I thought. "I am truly and utterly alone."

But one of my best friends in the whole world caught me online last night and asked me how I'm doing. She always asks, even when I put on the facade that things are fine. She never pushes or probes, but she always asks. She cares. She doesn't understand my pain, but she always asks. And listens. And just is. She's there.

I apologized to Drew last night for yelling, crying, and picking a fight with him. This friend who listened helped me remember that pushing away the person who has been my rock through all of this isn't the answer. I don't know what I'd do without him. I don't know what I'd do without her. It is hard to imagine being more of a mess than I am now, but I know that I would be, if not for them and all of the other wonderful people in my life.

This morning, the sun was shining (a rare commodity around here in the winter). The rays slanting through the curtains made me feel a little less desperate. I made coffee. I stopped and really let myself experience the whole process: smelling the ground beans, smelling the aroma as it brewed, smelling the dark liquid as I took a sip. It helped a little, I think. I walked over to the dining room table and smelled the roses my parents sent us for our anniversary. I laughed a little, thinking of the literal-ness of my action. I checked my e-mail. A surprise. The author of a book on infertility, written by a pastor's wife in Washington state, has sent me a note. She stumbled upon my review of her book on Goodreads last night, and wanted me to know that my words blessed her and that she is praying for my peace. Wow.

So often, I have felt alone during these past three years. It is hard not having anyone close to me who truly understands our complete situation--the continued infertility, the loss of two children, my health concerns both now and for the future--even if they can relate to and empathize with pieces and parts of it. But I realized this morning, probably knew deep down in my heart, that I am not alone. I have more friends and family members who care than I am worthy of having. I have people who pray for me consistently, and/or ask how I'm doing. I have an amazing husband who holds me and loves me, even when I yell and scream and slam doors.

And I have Someone looking out for me who has graciously given me these blessings--plus the added blessing of kind words and prayers from a stranger who truly has experienced what I have--on the morning when I needed to read them most. It's hard to believe that it was just a coincidence.

-Em