A Very Quotable Thanksgiving

So there's my family......

My mom watching football, "Well that doesn't seem fair that our guys never get the ball! They should give them a chance with the ball!" 

My uncle: "You guys have a charity race called Run to Feed the Hungry? Can't you just write a check and not have to run?" 

My dad: "So Tammy, are you still writing? Still doing the dance church?" 

During the halftime show....

Mom: "So WHO is this?" 

Uncle: "it says Pitbull on the screen." 

Dad: "that's his name?" 

Uncle: "that's what they're saying..."

Charlotte: "Mommy, if I promise to finish all of my ice cream, can I have some pie?" 

Sam: "Why can't I just have hot chocolate for dinner? Nobody in this family cares about me." 

My mom still watching football: "Look! The screen says Santa Clara! Look! Look!"  (Ed note: I grew up there). 

My dad: "Hot damn! We're finally on the map! Look at that! Santa Clara is on TV!" 

My mom: "I really love that Sherman boy. He's so funny!" 

My mom after I dropped the pumpkin pie, wrapped safely in a bag, with just a corner of crust damaged, "Tammy! You ruined Thanksgiving!" 

Sam saying grace: "And God, please help there to not be too much conversation, so we can just focus on eating." 

Frank after I went to the bedroom to read, "Don't think I don't see how well this is working out for you! You're back here and your parents are out there! And so am I. Alone with them..." 

My mom after looking at my green bean casserole fresh out of the oven, "Hmph! It's fine I guess." 

Sam: "Well, goodnight. I hope I have another great dream about my Spider-Man coloring book!" 

My mom to my dad, "Will you please just stop talking about yourself for five seconds?!" 

My uncle: "Can I see your iPhone? I want to see how one feels in my pocket. I'm unsure on size." 

My mom: "You have paprika, right? Without paprika in the potatoes, Thanksgiving will be ruined." 

My mom (again): "I don't understand why you have wine glasses in a dry house. Seems mocking to guests." 

My mom (again, again): "Oh, let the kids eat as much pie as they want. Don't ruin thanksgiving." 

Suspenseful Nonna/granddaughter storytime. 

What the Heck Wednesday

Current mysteries & fascinations in my life: 

1. Insurance policies for non profits

I just received an email with the updated Royal Stage insurance policy I have to review before the new year. Included was something called Nuclear Energy Liability, and another thing called Cyber Extortion. Now clearly, I can't divulge much information related to our nuclear energy program at Royal Stage (it's classified. You heard nothing).

But cyber extortion? What is that? 

Like, if someone leaves us a mean comment on Facebook, our insurance covers our emotional pain and suffering? No, I'm pretty sure that's covered under the next section - our included Mental Anguish Endorsement. 

Maybe cyber extortion is if we don't teach dance well enough, we will be bullied into sending FarmVille goods or Candy Crush lives over to the terrorists as retribution? 

I don't know. I just sign the forms.....

2. How I purchased stolen goods on Amazon

One of my greatest joys in life recently was a re-discovered, unused Amazon gift card. Suddenly, riches! 

I purchased a cute sweater for $10. What a deal! I got it in the mail yesterday, and attached to it was a price tag - $599.

I googled the brand name - sure enough it was some couture website with one of those look books with pouty, hungry models and no prices listed. The whole thing reeked of an "if you need to ask, you can't afford it" feel, and they're right. I can't.  So how did I get this sweater for $10? New with tags? 

I feel like a peasant who got away with murder in the palace.

Oh and P.S. - it's pink. When things couldn't get any better, they just did. 

3. The Old Testament 

Good ol God Almighty has caught me off guard a couple of times in my bible reading lately. There is my longstanding favorites of the guy who was teased by some kids due to his baldness and a bear came out and ate them, and of course Noah - the only patriarch apparently  worth saving in the entire world - found by his kids post-ark in a tent passed out drunk and naked.

Recently I added to the list the fact that Eli, after an illustrious life as a well-respected spiritual leader, died by being surprised and falling out of a chair because he was "old and fat". And then, I just read about Saul and how when Samuel appointed him king in front of the people, he ran away and hid in a pile of luggage? Wait, what? I can see it now...."I would make a terrible king! But wait, they will never find me here...." 

4. Political bumper stickers 

Has anyone ever voted for a political candidate, given peace a chance or sent money to keep Tahoe blue due to a persuasive bumper sticker? I want to meet the person who has said, "You know, I had NO IDEA who should be president of the United States....until I was behind that Prius...my life was changed forever!" 

Speaking of life choices, I do not have anything Christian on my car. I wholeheartedly believe that my dastardly low driving ability is not a good representation of our faith. I'm out of the race. 

But this guy I recently saw, apparently, has no problem. Rush hour evangelism, anyone? 

5. The longevity of the "# "

I say hashtag, you say pound sign. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe....but eventually one side has to win. Will the automated phone systems that have you enter your account number (followed by the pound sign) update the recorded lady? Or will social media start showing some long overdue respect for its elders and give the analog world a pass? This is nail biting, folks. 

Happy Wednesday! Or not, apparently, according to Charlotte. 

. 

Careful What You Wish For

We are currently two days away from Thanksgiving - aka THE BEST DAY OF THE YEAR!!!- and it's already been on the tips of my children's tongues what is on their Christmas wish list. This isn't really their fault. People keep asking them. My parents, Frank's parents, their two aunts, sweet ministry friends, etc.

Bless Sam's heart, he couldn't even think of anything at first. At first he told people "candy and ice cream." Then, he really racked his brain and came up with "coloring books." The kid is just content. He basically never asks for anything (except candy and ice cream, but we are working on that). Charlotte was also a bit clueless, but caught on quick...."everything princess, everything Hello Kitty, everything ballet, everything pink but mostly purple....."

Now that their Christmas morning mindset has warmed up a bit, it's really getting going. Sam told me this morning he wants Pokemon & Minecraft videos so he can "find out what all the fuss at recess is about." (did I mention I love this kid?) He also asked for fabric pens so he could write the names of the ninja turtles next to their face on his brand new pajamas (um no).

Charlotte currently wants snow. (not likely, California girl). Oh, and a dog. (received the notorious "we'll see" response from Frank).

Listening to my children with their Christmas wishes, it made me think about my own. If I even have the right to ask anyone for anything on the day we set aside to celebrate the birth of our Savior, there are only two things I want.

Freedom from the biggest, continual, chronic struggles within my spirit.

That, and this shirt:

If I were to get my Christmas wish (and I'm focusing on the first one), it would be kind of amazing. I would love to know what life is like with my issues gone.

Wouldn't we all?

But think further.

Would you live with the genie wish regret of using your final request to ask for more wishes? Won't there always be something that hurts? That annoys? That frustrates? That distracts?

I will probably continue on wishing. I pray every single day for the same thing. But I think it's high time I also realize all of the incredible gifts I've received by being told no. At least, being told no by human standards, that is.

If God had granted my wish right away, I would significantly lack compassion for others. I didn't have much of it before everything happened. Recovering mean girl over here, ladies and gents.

If God had granted  my wish after a bit of time, I wouldn't have a genuine relationship with God. I would still be a seeker, and as I recall, I didn't like seeking. I never felt very found, either.

If God had granted my wish after a long while, I wouldn't have started Royal Stage. And as much as I may complain in times of stress and strife, it really is a huge daily honor and blessing to lead it. It is a superb feeling to be obedient to your calling, even in the times it's a major suckfest.

If God granted my wish now, I wouldn't have the drive to write or continue to dedicate my life toward helping others (or at least trying to).

If God grants my wish in the future, I hope that I remember to remain thankful, honorable and show up at church.

But, if He chooses to say no forever - and by forever I am talking about this side of Heaven, because THANK GOODNESS there's a day where there WILL be no more pain and suffering - I am okay with that.

Because even though I hate the side effects of a thorn-in-my-flesh existence, I am also thrilled to declare that God has given me some seriously epic gifts to unwrap. It's so important to remember in the darkness what we've been given by the Light.

Strength.
Empathy.
Experience.
Genuine friendships.
Creativity.
Inspiration.
Patience.
Community.
Family.
Understanding.
Trust.
Motivation.
Freedom (on His terms, not mine).
Safety.
Perspective.

And really, who's going to dare to get in line to exchange those gifts?

Pharisee Tam

First of all, what a really cool stage name that would be. Secondly, what a terrible, yet freeing, feeling it is to be sitting in church and realize that you're a Pharisee. I mean, obviously my clothes are a lot more comfortable and I really appreciate the perks of my modern life like refrigeration and cars....but in my heart, I found my Pharisee membership card today, laying there right in the middle. 

And I had no idea. 

The sermon today was on Heaven and Hell. Christianity 101, but often something people misinterpret - especially Christians. Hello, this Christian right here ⬇️

Dang it. 

I've never been very hellfire and brimstone. I am a millennial who was raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. Which means I chuckle at things like this: 

Sorry, sorry. Anyway....point being, I am concerned with loving people more than judging them. We've all got our issues and nowhere in the bible does it say it's our job to play judge & jury. My faith does not permit all things, but it certainly commands us to love all people and leave final eternal matters up to God. 

But Heaven and Hell....if it were up to me, what would I say? In a nutshell, if you accept Christ as your Savior, you go to Heaven. If you don't.....you don't. I still believe this. Christianity is the most all-inclusive party in the world - everyone is welcome to join in. It's totally fair. We have a reputation of being "judgy", but really - like any big gathering of fallible human beings - we unfortunately have some outspoken folks who someone at one point regrettably handed an expensive suit and a microphone to, and suddenly our public image was toast. 

God is love. God wants us to go to Heaven, and we can get our invitation through Christ alone. Yes, I get that. 

But here is where I screwed up. And I can blame my past, or I can finally own up and change my story, taking responsibility for myself. 

I was brought up in fear. There are several key markers along my life's road that can be described as unfair, terrifying or traumatic. Whatever. They made me an afraid person. So I started to form rituals. If I spoke or acted a certain way, people would accept me as a certain way. If I did what people wanted, began to think what they wanted me to think, I was given shelter from the fear. It became much, much easier to fall into agreement that I was weak, worthless, ugly, unreasonably spoiled, incapable of knowing what was good for me, etc. I sacrificed myself in the name of ritual, rules, intimidation and shame. 

Not placed upon me by a church alone.

Not placed upon me by a family alone. 

Not placed upon me by frienemies alone.

At the end of the day, I have constructed a world of lies, isolation and extreme fear of social missteps that I'VE CHOSEN to live in. 

The things that have happened to me were not my choice. 

The way I choose to respond to them long after the offenses have gone still and silent......that is my choice 100%. 

This is how I got my Pharisee membership card. I became a lover of God, and instantaneously became a lover of the laws. I craved the structure of Christianity - the fact that A + B = C. Me + Acknowledging Christ's sacrifice = a booked room in the celestial ever after. 

Right? RIGHT?! 

Then why do I feel so horrible? Why am I still afraid despite my firmly confirmed reservation postmortem, despite my deep involvement in the church since the moment my teenage face hit that altar carpet of repentance? 

It all clicked when it was spoken at church today - Hell is simply disagreement in God's way. Heaven is agreement in it. 

I never could trust that I am going to Heaven, because I haven't ever allowed myself to agree God's way is right. 

Is Jesus the way to Heaven? Absolutely. But darn it, God, I am going to pray every single day for (circle one): reconciliation with people who are no good for me; miraculous healing from violating moments that changed me forever; complete, restorative relief from my struggles. And if you don't give them to me, then clearly you have rejected me. I'm worthless to You, just as I am to them. You aren't following the rules. You are a promise breaker just like the rest of 'em. 

I've accepted Christ, I am walking the walk, so I should get whatever i ask for, or else clearly I am screwing up some how, and God is just waiting for the opportunity to screw up my life until I just get it right. 

The heart of a Pharisee stands at a distance from the abundance of peace and safety. It is an observer.

The mind of a Pharisee is a rule follower. Things are black and white, and they feel responsible for placing the black & white in just the right place, or else everything will crumble. 

The spirit of a Pharisee is afraid. Because even if their house of rock solid laws and rules seems oppressive, hurtful and restraining.....it's the only freaking way of life they remember, and if they were to run out the door toward something else - it could lead to disaster, right? 

I have lived in a personal Hell for years because I have loved Jesus from a distance. I have guaranteed myself eternal salvation, but have chosen to keep my earthly chains instead of trusting God with THIS life. 

And if I can't trust God with this life, have I ever really known Him? Have I honestly trusted Him with the next? I certainly have my Pharisee card. But have I signed and activated my salvation card? 

I don't know if this makes any sense, but there has definitely been a piece missing. I don't want to be a rule follower anymore. Jesus wasn't, after all. 

I am tearing up my Pharisee card. I am running my lazy, worthless rear to the feet of Jesus. 

I am in full agreement with what God wants. It feels awkward to say that out loud, because I don't think it's something a lot of Christians believe. Well, not something THIS Christian has really acknowledged or believed. 

I am still going to pray for healing. I'm still going to pray for the things that weigh heavy upon my life.....but my Pharisee card is currently burning in the fire of lies & fear - where it belongs. 

Behind me. Away from me. 

God, I choose to agree you know what's best. I choose to agree with Your will, not mine. I choose to agree with Your timing, Your grace and I thank you for the fact you agree to give me peace, joy and safety. 

I'm sorry I took so long to accept it. 

Whatever is Lovely

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things. Eph 4:8 

I have committed this verse to memory after someone wise in my life reminded me of it. I am focusing on that which is lovely. I need to right now. It's the net that's catching me over and over again. 

My life is lovely because.....

1. This boy 

2. This girl

3. This man 

4. These friends 

5. This church 

6. This weather 

7. The next generation of RS 

8. And the current one

9. Having all we need 

10. Medicine that helps 

11. People who pray 

12. Autumn celebrations 

13. Past memories that teach 

14. The future to come 

15. A creative world

16. God's amazing creation 

17. The amazing children mine get to grow up with. 

18. Going out to breakfast 

19. India. Everything India. 

20. The incredible school Sam attends

21. Passed on traditions 

22. Sunsets

23. Naps. 

24. A pastor who pastors for the right reasons. 

25. Baseball games 

26. Autumn everything.

27. Any excuse to dress up. 

28. Another chance each day to see ourselves as God sees us. 

29. The fact my daughter is best friends with my best friend's daughter. 

30. Shopping! 

31. Family. 

32. Handwritten letters

33. Dance 

34. Dream homes 

35. Thanksgiving 

36. Bingo! 

37. Writing, journaling, releasing. 

38. Someone just willing to be there. 

39. God. Always God.

No matter what happens, each day I am exchanging a day of my life for it. There is a reason for it. Even if it's just to say at the end I made it through. That's more than a lot of people are given the right to. 

On Being Me

Around this time of year, I always do a giant purge. We give away a ton of the kids' toys, clothing, etc. to make room for the newness of Christmas morning. I become an obsessive list maker - gift shopping, guest lists, special deadlines, calendars, and on and on. I love the holidays, but they also stress me out. I crave routine - I am like a toddler when it goes away - I get grumpy and sleepless, I don't like most people and I love cookies. 

This year's purge has included a major clean up of my social media. Blogging more. Facebooking less. And really straightening up my friends list and who sees what. Is that mean? Maybe. But as I grow older, even though I know every single person on my friends list in "real" life, I honestly don't want them all seeing photos of my children, knowing my prayer requests, etc. I am learning the value and importance of boundaries. I've made my Facebook personal to too many for too long out of fear it will affect the success of both my ministry and my career. 

One way I curbed the guilt factor is I made a Facebook page & website for my writing. So people who enjoy reading what I have to say (*crickets*), still can. And the pics of my kiddos and my grandmother's secret frosting recipe can be reserved for those who actually SHOULD have access to my heart. 

I spent days test driving titles for the page/website in my mind - I turned over ideas related to faith, family, recovery, depression, dance and a myriad of other things that are a part of my life. I typed out sparkly titles and clever puns. And suddenly, I simply settled on my own name. 

Um, what? 

If you've known me for any length of time, you know that I HATE my name. Tamara is always mispronounced. Always. I actually commend people who read it aloud correctly on the first try. It's Tam-Er-Ruh - like "camera." Apparently the skill level necessary to comprehend this is up there with brain surgery or landing on a comet. I get Ta-mare-uh, Ta-mar-uh, Tamar, Theresa......thus, except for brief periods of 3rd and 6th grade, I always go by Tammy. 

Tammy, unfortunately seems to be often associated with trashy trailer parks, strippers and mean ex-wives. I have seen many a Tammy on TV shows and in films, and it is almost never good news. 

My middle name is Marie. Just like every other girl born in the 1980s to a Catholic-at-least-on-Christmas-and-Easter family. My other option would've been Ann, Anne or perhaps Elizabeth or Catherine if my mother had been feeling exceptionally fancy after the epidural. 

And my last name.....let's not even get started. We can go with my maiden name, which happens to have a pedestrian curse word nestled in the center of it, or my married name that sank me to the bottom of the alphabet and when combined with my formal first, rhymes like a Dr. Seuss character. 

But God told me firmly yesterday to just stick to the basics with my writing promotion. To try this new, crazy thing where I stand firm in who I am. He knows my name. He knew it before I was born. I've never been proud of it. I've always shown it disdain. But God wants me to stand with it. I would love to run down to the courthouse and change it to something sweet and simple like Jane, or beautifully elegant like....I don't know....anything NOT Tammy or Tamara....but I won't. Because it is a part of who I am, and at the same time, really not much of me at all. 

What is your name? Your true name? What do you represent? 

I'm going to be real here....since I am continually aiming to move more toward a singular real life rather than some Internet persona.....this is what I think I currently represent: 

• stress
• worry
• complaining
• ungratefulness
• fear

Now, to be fair to myself, during my brief shining star moments of clarity I also probably represent perseverance, creativity, faith and courage. Sometimes. And by saying "sometimes," I am being VERY generous with myself. 

But I want to represent more than this. I would love to no longer be associated with some of the things listed above.  I only have one life, and I've wasted so much of it trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and placing other people's opinions ahead of God's. Did you know God has NEVER told me I'm not good enough to belong to Him? Did you know God has NEVER stopped being a part of my life because I didn't act exactly as He wanted? Weird how we pin those things on God, when really it's all people....people whom God loves dearly, but are fallible and hurtful just the same. 

I've built my altar out of them. And now it's crumbling. 

I want to represent joy, peace and tenacity. I want those God places in my life to consider me to be someone who is committed, genuine and confident in both who I am in Christ and who they are in Him, too.

I want my best friends to know that I love to bake for them, I love to host parties and rainy days are my favorite weather. I want my best friends to know that underneath all this fear and self-doubt, I have the potential to be a really happy, helpful person who is so incredibly grateful for the blessings she's received. 

I want people to know that I'm terrified of Universal Studios and dragonflies instead of knowing I'm stuck in much bigger fears that really should know longer matter. That my favorite color is pink, my favorite food is Asian anything and that I sound amazing when I sing in the shower. 

There's so much more to me than what depression & anxiety allow me to show the world. Only a few people really have known my heart fully (if you knew all of the above, then gold star!) and I want to work hard toward having a heart fully open to Christ. That when people mispronounce my name, it will be synonymous with an example of how to truly live the one precious life we have. For Him. 

The Lion in the Room

Some people are diabetic. Some folks have chronic injuries. I have a condition in which I get a distinct form of amnesia every couple of months. Sometimes every couple of weeks. 

It's called clinical depression. 

Borderline personality disorder. 

Anxiety. 

Obsessive compulsive disorder. 

I don't know. All of those things, apparently. According to the professionals, depending upon the day. 

I just consider it to be heart amnesia. In an oftentimes rapid cycle, I can't feel love. I can't feel safety. There's a ferocious lion in the room, coaxing me to hurt myself before he tears me to bits. 

A lot of people don't even know that I'm being torn apart daily. Because this is what we see on the lie that's social media: 

I love the blur of this picture, because it's how I see the world. It's never clear for me. 

I remember being small, but already broken, having tea parties at the bottom of the swimming pool. With a friend, I'd count to three and we would plunge to the pool floor, hair splayed out underwater like a 2nd grade mermaid, pinkies up with our imaginary teacups. Remember being down there, the garbled summer sounds above the surface....or maybe we tried talking to each other underwater and the words almost reached the listener, but not quite clearly enough. 

The heart amnesia of mental illness submerges you under waves of distortion, the whole world above you visible but garbled. Occasionally you're allowed to come up, gasping for air, the soul's lungs burning from the close call of drowning. And then down you're plunged again - people are speaking to you from the surface but you can't hear them clearly. They hold you but you still can't catch a good enough breath to swim instead of sink. 

That's depression. That's BPD. That's anxiety. It's not sadness, it's not nerves. A bad day or butterflies in your gut don't cause the heart to forget what peace is like and how to stay out of the water. But when your heart is continuously forced into a state of not remembering peace and safety, you often find yourself falling back into the pool again. 

Not even the most precious of experiences stops me from falling back in. 

Obviously, this is all far from fun, but it's right in the middle of the cycle that's the worst. The coming up for air part. 

Remember the lion? Yeah, he's still there pacing around, waiting for you to surface.   Even in writing this, I can hear his growls...."you're switching from first to second person all over the place here. You are a terrible writer, and what's the point of telling everyone about me?" 

The lion is a liar. And a thief. And a murderer. He also lives with me constantly, and honestly sometimes I feed him and make sure he's still there as if I want him to stick around.

I don't. I hate him. But I also know what to expect from him, and I have zero memories of what life was like without him. 

Heart amnesia. 

So, when someone gives me 100% love, he gobbles up 80%. When someone gives me wisdom, he tears much of it to pieces. 

I'm starting to starve him now. Everytime I get a moment above the surface, even though I am soaked to the bone in shame, fear and panic.....I am refusing to feed him. 

So here I am in the middle of the cycle. The only thing worse than a pacing, prowling lion is a very hungry one. He howls and growls at me day and night, his lies are just as strong, his presence has yet to thin out significantly. 

But he's not going to get anything else from me. I'm sure he will just keep stealing from me for awhile, but I'm not handing him anything else. 

Even if I drown. 

I am thankful that there's another lion. I haven't seen Him often, but I read about Him everyday and remind myself that He's there. He's what's prevented the first lion from devouring me. He heals the bite marks and claw cuts all over my spirit. It doesn't feel like the healing I envisioned, but I know it's there all the same. 

Even when truth and joy seems blurred away. 

The true Lion, for whatever reason, is allowing the first lion to live with me still. I'm a reluctant roommate. But, I need to trust the true Lion. 

He is stronger.

He is fiercer.

He is braver.

He is bigger. 

And He wants me to learn how to fight and stop feeding the lion so that His protection of me is always invited instead of forced. 

He knows that my whole life, I've had various lions forced upon me. He doesn't want to play into that. He stands apart. He is a protector, not a devourer. 

And when I'm hearing things from under water again, looking up at the wavy silhouette of the pacing lion above....as my lungs fill up with water and my eyes burn from trying to see what's really at the surface.....it's comforting to know that the true Lion is up there, too. Waiting. Watching. Loving. 

I'm Terrible at Goodbyes

I am simply awful at goodbyes. My mother hoards memories through things. She hates to throw anything away. I've passionately rebelled against this as an adult, purging things as soon as we don't use them - sometimes to a point of detriment when we end up having to repurchase something I gave away to stave off clutter. 

But when it comes to people and buildings, I'm just a hot mess. I have dreamed since I was six years old of the opportunity to purchase my maternal grandmother's home in the Bay Area. I still drive by it on occasion to see if it's for sale. My sister has never been there, as my grandma moved in with us before she was born. To me, this is terribly sad, even though her life is obviously fine without it. 

There are people in my life who have truly treated me horribly. Like, left lasting damage. And yet, I don't think I've ever been able to cut someone out of my life and not feel desperately guilty. 

Oh, nostalgia. It's my weakness. 

So, not surprisingly, saying goodbye to our dance studio on Wednesday was hard. I didn't think I would care. God has provided us with an amazing new space that is so much better. The ministry has growing room, a safe environment and a functional layout - everything I dreamed. 

But you guys, I got a little emotional as I locked up the old one for the last time. 

We got the studio 3 years ago with virtually no money.  A manager at Home Depot caught wind of what we were doing and suddenly we had a $5000 gift card and a legion of volunteers renovating the building for us. It was so incredibly humbling. 

Charlotte practiced learning to walk in that studio. She also wouldn't stop crying when we were live on Good Day Sacramento. 

Dozens of young people have danced in that space. Many taking their very first dance steps. Some have rehearsed award winning choreography. Some participated in a very awkward photo shoot for a magazine. 

All have laughed until they've cried. Some have cried until they smiled. 

It was difficult to leave. 

It's just a building again now. The floor is at the new studio, the photos have been replaced on new walls. It's a shell of what it was for the past 3 years. 

I walked through the old studio after we had cleaned up the last of it, and just talked to God. 

I thanked Him for all the amazing miracles we had seen. For all the incredible ways He provides. I confessed my very human frustration that people from my past who told me I would certainly fail would now see the vacant space and conclude we went under, even though we are actually soaring across town. I trusted him with my fears of the new space, my worries about new, different obstacles. I thanked Hom for already being at the new studio with open arms. 

It was hard to give that key back. We have some precious memories on Douglas Blvd. 

But.......

Onward.