yay November 3, 2009

My kiddo is big. When did that happen, and how do I make it stop?
He said his first words today. “YAY!” and “YEAH!”

It went something like this

“Hey Joel, you can have your ladybug, Yay!”
“YAYY!”
“Yay!”
“YAY!”
“Yeah!”
“YEAH!”
“Yay!”
“YAYYYYY!”

It makes my heart melt. Especially since he did it on command for me for Megan, and for Steve over the phone (and lets face it, this kid loves to make me look bad. He makes a liar out of me on several occasions)

He’s been such a different baby lately. Maybe the change of environment is good for him. He’s been a lot more mellow. Still my crazy high-strung baby, but a little more content. His sleeping, however, is worse than ever.
When I can afford to, I’m going to take him to a specialist.
I am pretty sure J has allergies, and that’s why he’s having sleep issues.
(Or maybe I just need to be feeding him at night )

God has put my (future) ministry on my heart a lot lately.
It’s hard.
Like, my life is SO difficult. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
No one can truly understand understand unless they’ve been in my position.
How am I supposed to convince girls to keep their babies and not “terminate their pregnancies,” when it’s THIS hard?
Well, obviously if I make it through, anyone can do this.
It’s hard work. But, there are few jobs more fulfilling than being a mommy.
And getting to hear your kid say “yeah” and “wow” for the first time (that’s our newest one) and putting tem in their PJs at night and getting to kiss their big chubby cheeks? It’s pretty freaking great.

And at least I have that.

Court this Thursday.
PLEASE pray.

don’t. October 31, 2009

don’t act like you know.

not for a second.

 

don’t act like you know what it’s like to go over 11 months without more than 4 hours of consecutive sleep. (and thats on a rare occasion)

don’t give me the “oh I have insomnia, I understand.”
No, you don’t.
You’re not hearing the blood curdling screams of a crying infant and being repeatedly awaken just after falling asleep.

If there is ONE thing in the world I can’t FUCKING stand, and yes, I’m bringing out the almighty fuck word for this, I cannot fucking STAND people trying to tell me what to do.

“Oh, just feed them before bed.”

Shut. The fuck. Up.
Feeding immediately before bed makes it HARDER for most babies to sleep, it’s not exactly easy to sleep when you’re body is trying to digest.
And I feed my child. He’s not waking because he’s hungry.
I know my child well enough to know when he’s hungry, I’m not a complete fucking moron.

“Give him a bottle of formula before bed.”

A. My son doesn’t take from a bottle.

B. He doesn’t take formula. He’s 11 months old and breastfed. In a month he can start on cow’s milk. Introducing formula would be retarded, and he wouldn’t drink it anyway.

and

C. Again, he isn’t waking because he’s hungry. You really think after 11 months I’m going to magically say “Oh, maybe he’s hungry? Gee, let me try feeding him and see what happens!”

 

For months, I was deadset against letting J cry. Letting your child cry isn’t easy for EITHER party, and I was not emotionally ready to handle it.

But, it has come to the point where J is not developing properly, and is not growing properly, because he is not getting sleep.
Sleep is so important. And his brain can’t develop during that necessary REM sleep, because he’s not getting any.

I’m tired of doctors telling me nothing is wrong, and being condescending telling me that letting J cry will solve all my problems.

I’d love for them to come to my house and observe as he grabs onto the rails of his crib and jumps up and down for 6 1/2 hours straight, and THEN come to that same conclusion.

I’m tired of not getting answers.
I dno’t even have the energy to fight anymore.

I’m doing this all on my own and I can’t fight anymore.
No one understands; no one can empathize.

And I just. can’t. do it. anymore.

I can’t even be in this house anymore.

I’m made to feel like a fuckup.
Ya know those dogs that are just overbred, and go out and attack people, and are euthanized because they’re just too fucked up to be rehabilitated and function in society?
Well, that’s how I feel.

Off to bed, not off to sleep.

October 28, 2009

its always hard when s leaves.
always.
even the very first time.
but this time is different.
i’m angry. not at him.
not at god.
just angry. angry that he has to leave.
and that i can’t just go with him.
as soon as he left j wouldn’t stop crying, and crawling around looking for him.
so we went into my room and fell to sleep for a few hours to put off the pain.
But it still hit me like a sack of bricks when I arrived on campus for class tonight to discover class was cancelled, and realized I could be in rochester with s not missing a thing here.

i miss him terribly. and sitting in this dark lonely house with the miserable sound of rain banging n the windowpanes is just a big old reminder tha screams “S IS NOT HERE.”

church was lovely on sunday. i can’t remember the last sunday where i was early enough for worship.
it was beautiful.
and i got really good prophetic word at prophetic ministry.
It was perfect timing and just what I needed to hear.

Especially since i’ve been a bit upset with the man upstairs lately.

Comically enough, God kept putting it on someone’s heart to tell me “God hears your cries. He wants to make it so clear that he hears you.” which made me smile, because I havent’ been very nice to God lately.
It was also said that my writings will inspire a generation, and there are young people whose lives will be transformed by what I have to say, and that there are things I NEED to write about because there are young people who need to hear about it. And that He will use the things of my past for his Glory and to save other young people.

Before ministry, a woman from church came up and sat next to me. She had previously come up to me months ago and said if I ever needed money to come to her. I said ok and she walked away. Saw her in church weeks after that, but had no idea how to approach her.

Well, before ministry she sat next to me again and asked me “how are you?”
“Great, how are you?” Ha. what a lie.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, like I said before. My offer still stands. ok?”
“Ok thanks”
and she walked away.
I have no idea how to start the conversation.

Well, at prophetic ministry, God told me that I need to be open to letting people help me, because there are people who want to be help, and it would bless them to help me.
HA.

and after talking to someone, I realized, I make it VERY hard for people to help me. Seriously.
People ask me what size diaper j wears and I saw “Size 3 but don’t buy them! seriously! thats so nice of you”
And I don’t know why I say that. I NEED diapers. people are offering to help and I make it impossible. Why!?
I guess I feel like I’m being polite?
But really, I just make it harder for everyone, and myself!

So i’ve been praying about this, and that God can give me the words to say so I can get the help I need.
J and I are getting cold and winter is approaching, and I still don’t have a window on my car. I still have horrible medical bills.
I need to take care of things.

For J’s birthday, there’s nothing I can think of that we need. He most certainly doesn’t need clothing.
He needs socks, diapers, and his medical bills paid. ha.
Thankfully my ebay business allow(ed) [its been on hiatus as I haven't had the time, i'm too stressed between sick baby and school and work one day a week] me to keep cl0thing for J.

anyway, gotta get ready for work.
and try and not miss s.
Because it makes life too hard right now

NY October 20, 2009

Whenever people meet me and find out my situation, the first thing they ask is always “Are you in school?”
“Yes, I’m in school”
“That’s so excellent.  Stay in school. It’s so important. Don’t stop. ra ra ra”

I get it. I get that less than 3% of “teen moms” get a college diploma within 10 years.
And I also get why that is.

People constantly ask me “Wow, school, work, motherhood. how do you balance it all?” It’s very simple. I don’t.
I’m barely scraping by in school. I work one day a week and I can’t even manage to get childcare. Every week it’s a humiliating struggle of begging anyone I know that’s responsible if they’re available; even though I don’t have the money to pay them what they deserve.
I was so grateful to be able to keep my job for just one day a week, it means the world to me, and I love m y job. But it’s NOT working. Even just one day a week. I can’t make it work.

And aside from that, I really have no life. I’m not in touch with hardly anyone from high school; I have nothing in common with them, (which is a good thing.) Most of my CCM friends transferred, and the ones who didn’t I still have seemingly nothing in common with anymore.
I hardly have contact with anyone from church because I can’t ever go anymore.
Really, the only people I talk to are Nicolle and Steve. And one lives 300 miles away and the other lives 3,000 miles away.

I cannot afford to live here. Even living at home with my family.
I have over $1,000 in medical bills that I cannot pay.
I am unable to work. I get paid biweekly, (and by this point it’s about $80) and that’s hardly enough to buy diapers and baby food, let alone buy J’s special medicines or pay for doctors copays.
(And if I need something for myself, like a sweater now that it’s cold, or a new pair of shoes, FORGET IT) So obviously I can’t even pay those bills, or SAVE money.
And I NEED to be able to put away money for the day that J and I AREN’T living with my parents.
Or be able to pay my parents back for my car.
Or get J a college fund.
I want to go to Guatemala next year, that’s going to be at least $1,000.
Can’t you see? I can’t AFFORD to keep living here. I’m only getting poorer.

If I lived in Rochester, I could get a roomate and pay $300 a month for half of a house. I could go to MCC, and get childcare while I go to school.
S works during the day, and if I waitressed at night, he would be able to help at least SOME of those nights by watching J for me.
I am a DARN good waitress, because when you wait tables, you know how much you need to make that shift, and you make it.
Not only would I be able to make enough to cover rent, but enough to buy the things I need, and start paying off my medical bills.

It’s hard being a single mom. You need support. And sadly, I DON’T have that here.
And on top of that, I’m just miserable.
Nothing I do is right or good enough.
I didn’t put the fork in the dishwasher ther ight way.
I left the bathroom light on.
I gave J too long of a shower (yes, a shower, because I can’t even bathe him because we don’t have a bathtub)
I bought the wrong kind of olive oil.
I forgot to buy milk.
I put the remote control back on the wrong nightstand.
I didn’t take the right freaking multivitamin.
Or my personal favorite, the diapers I have for J suck.

NOTHING I do is right anymore, or good enough.
So if it’s this much of a problem for other people for me to live here, there’s absolutely no reason I should stay, since it isn’t even convenient for ME anymore.
But instead I’m being guilted into staying so everyone can have J around.
I can’t stay here to make up lost time for people, even though I’m miserable, and poor.

In a month and a half, my sweet boy will be 1.
And I can count on one hand who’d be invited to celebrate it with me.

October 18, 2009

Being a single mom definitely has its perks.
Extra cuddle time. Not having to share.
That special bond that people don’t understand.

But, it clearly has its downsides. There are a lot of downsides that go unnoticed.

Last night around 4 I started feeling ill. My head started aching all around, it was rather obnoxious. And then WHAM.
Out of nowhere, I felt like I was going to keel over and die.
Every bone and muscle in my body hurt.
I felt like I had to vomit, but i couldn’t.
And every time I tried my head exploded with searing pain.

I just remember laying on the bathroom floor with J crawling on top of my smacking my head to see if I was ok, unable to even get up, thinking that childbirth was a piece of cake comparatively. wondering if I’d be able to get up.

and it just escalated. i couldn’t even take care of J.
I sat in the shower, hallucinating, with J playing in the bathroom waiting for me.
I just laid in the shower floor, unable to even pray, hoping it would just stop. I even resorted to banging my head against the faucet, in a despserate attempt to make the pain go away.

There were several times when I was one digit away from dialing 911. Once I even dialed, but didn’t hit send.

It was terrifying. But what was even more terrifying was the fact that I couldn’t even take care of my son. After my shower I scrambled up the stairs to get my phone, and I looked down at the door, and saw that J had climbed all the way up the stairs, reading to climb the second set.
I wasn’t even aware he was capable of this.

It’s just one of those things that people don’t realize.
It’s one of those moments where having a boyfriend who love and respects and adores my son and I doesn’t really help, as we’re 300 miles away.

Thankfully it began to decline, and I just cuddled up with J and we got some sleep.

This morning I was better, but not well enough to venture out, so we missed church yet again.

We enjoyed a quiet morning at home, and I worked on my ebay inventory.
J was playing with his Laugh N Learn home, and all of the sudden I heard that “Wham” that is all too common when you’re the parent of a cruising baby.
Only, this was a BAD wham. A wham right onto the hardwood floor (as we just had to throw away our area rug).
It was pretty bad tears, so we walked around and sang and cuddled, and finally I got him to crack a smile.
And with that smile came a pool of blood all down his front.

Now, J’s been sick before, and has been a pretty difficult baby as far as health.
But this was the first bad ‘injury’.
And I looked over my shoulder, looking around, for SOMEONE to help me.
And realized, I’m here alone. By myself. There is no one else.

I pried his mouth open and saw that all the blood was coming from his top two teeth. So I got him a damp washcloth to chew on and some ice to suck on through a mesh feeder.
I called the ped and thankfully got a call back within 10 minutes, but it wasn’t fun waiting.

It’s just one of those days that’s reminded me over and over about why I can’t wait until the day that I’m no longer a “single mom.”
But until then, it’s only making me stronger.

taco taco October 7, 2009

So, I’m in the process of moving to a new blog. Password protected.
I’ll let you know. (unless “you” is in your case referring to someone who honestly doesn’t need to be reading my blog anyway, in which case, I regret to inform you, I will not be sending you a password. tear tear)

But in the meantime, nothing wrong with writing about something dull and drone, and slightly comical. Stuff I could care less about anyone in the world knowing.

Steven left at 4 today. Sad sad.
But, fingers crossed and prayers said that he’ll be back soon.
I really wanted to be able to take joelie to the pumpkin patch.
I miss him to pieces already. After he left, Joelie kept crawling around looking for him, crawling in and out of rooms, peering over the couch. It broke my heart

Well, today was my “midterm” in spanish. Even though we are quite clearly not midterm.

Bad confession.
Here goes.
I am COMPLETELY losing my spanish.
We’re talking, me, standing up in front of a class, not being able to conjugate the preterito of “conocer.” It was BAD.

But anyway, back to the beginning.
For my midterm, I had to interview a spanish speaker.
So, I chose my long-time yahoo-answers consuegra Nicolle.
Because, let’s face it, she’s someone who is of interest to me, like the assignment said, and she’s probably the only spanish speaking person I know that I don’t want to punch in the face or call migra on.

Did the interview, yadda yadda yadda. We needed media to present to the class, so I printed some pictures off facebook, got a posterboard, and made a nice poster.
Steven and I went to AC Moore to get stickers to make it more interesting.

Now, for every country,there are a pack of great stickers.
Canada has the Canadian flag, the word canada, the maple leaf, hockey, a tree, etc.
You get the gist.

Well, apparently, there is nothing in the entire country of Mexico besides tacos and sombreros, excusing your occasional piñata or maracas.

So, I made a tackytacular poster. It was the hotmess of all posters, but, hey, I worked hard on it.

Well, time to present.
Turns out, I am essentially THE only person in class without a powerpoint presentation, barring the girl whose uncle is a famous columbian psychologist/writer/professor/photographer, whose publications she brought in.

So, up I go, with my measly little taco poster, attempting to explain that I met the person I interviewed on a Yahoo-question/answer type forum.
Trying to explain that I’m not a racist and that the only stickers AC Moore carried were, well, stereotypes.

I think the best part of my presentation was when I tried saying that Nicolle and I were close because we’re young moms, and after you have kids you don’t have much in common with people who don’t have kids”.
All this, to my professor who struggled with infertility all her life and was never able to have a child.
Nice Amanda, real nice.

My spanish was like a sinking ship. Starting off ok, then CRASH, then sink.
It was….. bad.
I don’t know what the heck happened.
Actually, I do.
I used to speak spanish more than I spoke english.
Now I spend my days speaking “mamamama bwabwabwabwah” or singing about G-mbo the clown going up and down up and down up and down.

anyway. it was supposed to be 15 minutes. I doubt it took 7.
Crap.
Thankfully people knew better than to ask me question, as I probably wouldn’t know the answer.
But I did however give up on trying to explain what a charismatic apostolic church is.

Oh.
So, driving to school, that gosh-awful new Britney song comes on.
“Are you in, livin’ in sin is the new thing (Yeah!)”

:0
…..

WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH MY GENERATION!?

Seriously. This is the crap we all “tune in” to (pun intended) [and don't even get me started on Lady Gaga] and we wonder why we’re such a sex crazed divorce happy polyamorous culture.
We wonder where all the good morals went, why things aren’t like they used to be.

I’m not angel. Nor do I deny I live in sin. We all do. We don’t live perfect lives. That’s why God gave his son to die on the cross for our shortcomings.

…..

That doesn’t mean we run around doing whatever we please! (at least I hope not).
I mean, what’s wrong with striving and desiring to be a good person with a good heart?
I mean, for all the bad rap us christians get sometimes, can someone please tell me what’s wrong with desiring to live a good life as a good person? What’s wrong with the basic principals of the 10 commandments? The idea of loving your neighbor as your brother. Wanting to leave a positive footprint on our world.
I mean, let’s just say we’re all wrong, there is not God, not Jesus.
Is it so bad to want to live a life that’s pleasing to God?
What could be so wrong about a girl in my spanish class showing grace and extravagantly blessing me because it’s what she thought Jesus would do?
What’s wrong with Steve and I going to Guatemala and loving on orphans and feeding the hungry?

But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your forefathers served beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.“

To a”Leah Bezozo” October 3, 2009

So, before I switch over to a new site, I just HAD to reply to this gem I got this week. From a miss “leah bezozo” Now, I went to high school with a Leah Bezozo, and whether this is really you, I do not know or care. But I can’t help but wonder why some random redhead in my freshman year math class who I have never in my LIFE interacted with is so interested in my blog. Hey, to each his own I guess. I wasn’t aware that people who have never seen or met my son could be so interested in my son, or his latest developmental milestones, or where the diapers on his bottom come from.

So, let’s get started.

“You Should Have Never Had A Kid If You Can’t Even Afford Diapers. Its Awful.”

Bravo, Miss Bezozo for such a wonderful thoughtful comment.

Well, let’s see. How do I approach this one?
My son’s father has a legal obligation to provide me with funding to meet my son’s most basic needs. Food, diapers, medical care.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, he doesn’t.
So guess what? *I* do.
I breastfeed my son and don’t go to WIC for a DIME for formula. While 94% of mothers of 10 month olds have given up on nursing, I’ve proudly nursed my son and continue to do so.
I work two jobs AND go to school.

So because one week I was short on funds and have yet to receive any child support, I asked someone for help. It’s called “humbling yourself.” I could have been too proud to do so and kept my son in a soiled diaper longer each day, or strapped him down with tape and papertowels.
But instead, when I needed help, I asked for it.
And I have NO regrets about that.

I do not rely on ANYONE for my son’s care.
My parents do not pay a dime for my son, nor does my partner.
He is MY son, and I work hard everyday to give him EVERYTHING.
And because for ONE week I faltered, and didn’t have the resources to do so, I sought out help for my son and I.
That doesn’t make me a bad mother.
Nor does it make it excusable to suggest that my son would have been better off vacummed out of my uterus, or never conceived to begin with.

I am an AWESOME parent, and my son is my everything.
He is my pride, he is my joy, he is my reason for working hard, he is my reason for busting my butt in school, he is my whole world.
Not drinking, or partying, or men.

And I REBUKE your statement and claims with every fiber of my being.
And I pray that God will one day humble you and he has with me.
Just as Jesus Christ humbled himself so that you and I might be free.

I’m not the awful one.
In fact Leah Bezozo, YOU’RE not the awful one.
Your comment is awful.

So, Miss Bezozo, this is all I have to say to you.
You can say what you want about me.
That I’m ugly, that I’m awkward, that I have bad acne, that I’m a Jesus Freak, that I’m obxnoxious, that I have a big nose, that I’m an idiot.
Pick your argument.

But don’t you DARE say I am anything less than an incredible mother.

God Bless!

Amanda & Joel

the end September 26, 2009

Well, I guess I had to know it would happen eventually.
You put something on the internet, anyone can read it.

this blog has always been a way to keep memories for myself and my son, a way to figure out what I’m feeling, a way to channel my experiences and turn it into something positive.
Without even realizing it, the things that I wrote about in my blog inspired people. Changed the lives of other girls in similar circumstances.
That’s AWESOME.

What’s not awesome, is when I write about something here, and it’s the dinnertable discussion, for the wrong reasons.
I have no idea who specifically reads my blogs, aside from the people who comment every week. But I get 0ver 70 pageviews for every new post.
And I have my suspicions, but I know one of you has been relaying the personal information that I post here to others. Specifically, to family members.

If this were information I was interested in sharing with family members, I’d send them the link. I’d email them every week. But that wasn’t the purpose of this blog.

So, to everything, there is a season.
And all good things must end.
Thanks for all of you who read my blog, even if you never told me.
To anyone who ever found encouragement here.
To anyone who supported my writings.
It was fun while it lasted.

- amanda

humble September 26, 2009

It’s been a while. I almost don’t even really know where to start.

Well, today, I got the news that Joel is anemic.
Joel is anemic because I am anemic.
Which I have long suspected, but haven’t had the time to do anything for myself. And honestly, I wasn’t positive it was anemia.

For as long as I can remember I’ve just been so tired all of the time. For years. Nothing to do with motherhood. In high school I could barely keep my eyes open.
My sophmore year of college  I had to withdraw from my History class because I literally was incapable of staying awake.  A friend of mine would have to shake me awake, because it was an excruciating battle of trying to keep my eyes open.
I get dizzy all the time, and have fallen over in the shower several times.
And I’m weak, all the time.

In almost all cases of anemia in breastfed babies, its because of iron deficiency and anemia in their mothers.
And when I was talking to my boss about Joel being anemic, she asked if I myself was anemic. I told her I probably was, and she said “I’ve always thought you were. I see the way you act and the way you are when you leave everyday, and I know you’re a mom and you’re not sleeping much, but, well”

It’s awful knowing my son and I both are sick.
But, it’s treatable. And I’m grateful to know I’m not crazy. It hasn’t all been in my head.

I yawn at least once every 4 minutes.  All the time.
It OFFENDS people. People are hurt by it, if I dare yawn while they talk.
Or, people make jokes. And I know they don’t mean to be hurtful, but it is, because I cannot help yawning all day long, and it isn’t because I’m bored, it’s because I’m EXHAUSTED all the time.

anyway.
It gets cooler and cooler with each passing day, and I still don’t have a car window.
I also don’t have money, so, that’s probably how its going to be.
and now that I have to start paying for daycare, my job at Gymboree is entirely pointless. A $3 an hour profit BEFORE taxes. Ha. So that’s what, $8 a week?
Looks like I’m going to be forever windowless.

In the car on the way to work the song “Father of Mine” came on.
Oh, how I hate that f—ing song. What a depressing song.
I cannot count on one hand the amount of people I know who get filled with rage hearing that song after having fathers abandon them or their mothers.
And hearing it today made me think about the man who is too much of a coward to be blessed with the title of  “joel’s father.” So when I’m not calling him something inappropriate, he’s simply “Randolfo” now. Funny, how it went from “my boyfriend” to “Joel’s dad” to “Joel’s father” to “joel’s birth father” to “Randolfo.”
I saw his sister (Joel’s tia) at burger king last week. I had finished paying for my coffee at the drive thru, and she walked past the window inside as she clocked in for work, and spotted me and called “Amenda?”
“Hola…. como esta usted?”
“Bien! Y el bebe?”
I know that I have about 6 seconds before I need to pull away for the next car.
I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.
But instead I blurt out “Well he’s got a lot of medical problems and I guess your brother changed his number, and he hasn’t seen him in 5 months”
(in spanish)
To which she replies “oh, el no tiene telefono”
Go figure.
I tell her “ok, well, tell him to call me, it’s important”
“ok”

and as I pull away I want to kick myself, as I ponder “why on earth did I say THAT? I have nothing to say to him… I don’t want him to call me”
10 minutes later I got a restricted call to my phone but I missed it. Who knows if it was really him or not.
Who cares. He is of no importance to me. And as soon as I get my schedule sorted out I’ll file a motion for sole custody, to make sure he has NO role in Joel’s life or in the decision making process.
He has yet to pay a dime of the court ordered child support he owes me, now over $1,500.

All the while, I drive around with no car window, begging for diapers for Joel on craigslist. Which leads me to the whole point of this post.

A few months back liquid did their Freemarket outreach. Giving stuff away free, to the people who needed it, no strings attached.
I had already stopped attending services, God had called me to KoK, but it was really weighing on my heart to serve at this outreach.

A woman waiting in line kept saying “you guys better have enfamil gentlease formula”
“well, i can’t make any guarentees, but, I hope we’re able to help you out”
“well thats the only formula my daughter takes, so you guys better have it” in a rude tone. I  was pretty offended, considering  all the items were donated from people like myself.
She kept going on about how she needed it, and laughed “yeah, she’s allergic to other formula, and it’s not like i was gonna breastfeed her” (which irritates the CRAP out of me as a nursing advocate. but, beyond the point)
I stood there trying so hard not to judge this woman. She goes on to tell me her husband is also in line, so they can get more stuff.
Now I’m upset. My heart is suddenly not in the right place.
It’s pretty soon after the whole Joel’s dad/randolfo incident. and I felt like every hispanic immigrant was watching me.
The enemy really got to me, and I knew I was not being a servant as God intended, and I decided to leave early, because my heart was not where God needed it to be.

Well, fast forward. I have no money, and no diapers. So i put out and on craigslist asking if anyone has any spare size 3 diapers, that I’d come pick them up. I posted a little about myself and my situation. A woman tells me her daughter is in size 3 still, but she wants to give me some, and that she knows what it’s like to be in my position and that her husband is in jail.
She agrees to meet me in morristown the next day.

Well, I get there 15 minutes late. I pull up to the curb, and who do I see sitting there? The woman from the freemarket. I profusely apologized for being late, and she told me it wasn’t a problem, and handed me a bag of diapers.
I cried the whole way home.

Here is this woman, in poverty, struggling as a single mom with a spouse in jail, joyfully giving to ME. Talk about role reversal. Months ago I stood there judging this woman. And here I am, being utterly and completely humbled by her, and BLESSED by her.
Kind of puts a lot of things in life in perspective, huh?
God had a lot to teach me, and still does.
I hate admitting that I’m a judgmental. I don’t consider myself to be judgmental. But, I’m only human. It happens. Even when I don’t intend to.

So, some things in life are undoubtedly, well, sucky right now.
But, this too shall pass.
God’s got a lot to teach me, and I know he’ll use these struggles for his Glory