They’re coming MUCH more frequently now.  Just last night, I’m convinced someone IN THIS HOUSE poured water all over me because I awoke dripping wet, ponytailed hair twisted around my neck like a snow-covered scarf, choking me.  I imagined it was the boys trying to get back at me for, as one of them commented, “Mom, you have been very passive aggressive today.” Who taught HIM that information and how dare he pull that card out of his hand and call me out for hiding in my bedroom several times yesterday and for carrying on the way I did?

Every avenue of media did their best to remind us that it was Father’s Day. Scrolling through Facebook, I sat on the bed missing my daddy, who’s alive, but over eighteen hundred miles away.  On Saturday night, I went through ALL OF MY PHOTOS, and compiled an album to celebrate my Father…you can view it HERE!  Whether I thought that would make the next day easier or that it wouldn’t bother me that he was not nearby to hug or enjoy, I can’t really say.  But I honestly didn’t think my expectations were THAT unrealistic for the day until I began to put them on my kiddos.  Sadly, this had a boomerang effect and only plummeted me deeper into the abyss of sadness…until my son hit the nail on the head. I love my man-child!

Now, my Love had no expectations for HIS DAY (he’s laid back that way) and wasn’t bothered by all my rants of ‘Why are you getting a text from a girl that’s not even your daughter and none of your own kids have even texted or called you yet and the boys are still sleeping and we stayed home from church this morning so THEY could make you breakfast and we could be together?’, along with, ‘My dream would be that all our kids would come over because we all live near each other, the married ones bringing their children and I’d cook a great big meal and we’d all celebrate what a great dad you are; but, oh no, that’s not possible…’ and so on and so on…bless his large heart of grace and love for me.

Please know that I am aware one cannot put EVERY INSANE THOUGHT into the bucket of ‘Menopausal Insanity’,  particularly if one is not menopausal, or premenstrual and especially if one is NOT a woman… don’t EVEN get me started on that subject!  But there is something to be said about the challenges a woman experiences as she walks through this foggy season of her life…

and yet–

Sometimes, I cringe to write about it because of being misunderstood, judged, criticized or any number of other reasons.  But NOT TO write means my voice, my journey, isn’t being recorded and I’m not really being honest about my actual feelings or struggles.

“When I speak:                      

 I want to speak honestly.  ‘Truthing’ is trusting others with my actual feelings and viewpoints.  Avoiding honest statements of real feelings and viewpoints is often considered kindness, thoughtfulness or generosity.  More often it is the most cruel thing I can do to others.  It is benevolent lying.  Selective honesty is not honesty at all…I want to be truthful in all situations…”                                                                        “Caring Enough To Confront” by David Augsburger

Sharing about this season of my life is taking a risk.  I know.  But I am absolutely certain that my story isn’t much different from the next ‘fifty something’ sister that hungers to walk in the Spirit, yet is screaming in her head at her husband as he drives way too fast on the highway in the rain, torrential rain covering the front window with no view of ANYTHING but flowing water on the windshield and her knuckles are white and the hot flash hits but the water outside that window does her no good!  Or possibly she wants to pack her son’s suitcase and open the front door, throwing him and his bag into the street. (Forgive the temporary moment of scheming here.)…just because he made a flippant comment about her age and grey hair…(I just made that up, but no doubt it would be a ‘button pusher’ if they knew it worked!)

This weekend, it all just culminated into anger about things I couldn’t do anything about: NINE of my brothers and sisters in Jesus shot down in their church as they extended kindness to their unbeknownst killer, two murderers still on the loose, my daddy far away and I can’t get to him, misplaced resentment because my love language is gifts and four of our five kids gave their father, the ‘other half of me’, nothing and he wasn’t being honored the way I THOUGHT he should be,  all ‘the plans’ for the day fell through: it definitely was an opportunity to lose it.   And ya, in my eyes it was a flop Father’s Day.  BUT IT WASN’T MY DAY, SO IT DIDN’T AND DOESN’T MATTER.  He, on the other hand, had a great day!

Before rambling on too long and taking way too many right turns because my brain won’t let me pull all my thoughts together at this late hour and I CAN’T SLEEP, I want to declare that all is well!

The hot flashes…they’ll continue but I’m getting blood work and Love and I are going to figure this thing out–Together, with the help and power of a loving, caring God that is on my side, fights for me and does not condemn me!

It took a few minutes to cool off this morning, get a fresh perspective and remind myself that I am a work in progress, His love is unconditional and I need to let Him deal with me…(which is why I’m reading this book and giving Him permission to unravel me.)

Join me in being honest, would you?  Share your struggles–maybe not as a menopausal woman, but if you are, it’s nice to know we can walk this road together, believing God to show His grace and power in the middle of our weaknesses.

You should also stop over here:     

Enjoy a community of others committed to telling His story in the midst of their challenges and victories.

Be back in a ‘hot flash’…