Resting and Patience are NOT Mutually Exclusive

ARGH! I’m struggling with the wait until the next step in our journey. I want to be back in Montana so badly, that it distracts me. And I’m sure that’s what the enemy wants. This time of waiting is meant for preparation, resting, being ready. It’s very important. I feel like I’m squandering it though. I made it a point to start packing *now*, and do it slowly, deliberately, and thoroughly. I don’t want to haul anything with us that isn’t needed. I have been trying to go through piles of stuff regularly, and have at least one tote packed up every week or two. It’s going well, and I’m realizing how much material stuff just doesn’t matter in the long run. God provides all we need, and the further we get along this journey in trusting, the easier that trust get’s. He keeps showing His faithfulness. We have many huge hurdles to overcome in the near future but I’m not nearly as worried as I would have been even a year ago. Yay for progress!

Now to keep growing deeper, keep moving towards more progress in this trek. It’s a long road ahead. But I have a map and the best road guide, and my family are my traveling companions.


Catch up blog post?

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, I haven’t felt the drive to lately. We took a trip out to visit the town of Butte, Montana, where we are moving to in the coming Spring. The whole weekend was filled with moments of peace, reflection and contentment. I felt like I was home, that feeling that you can’t describe, but know in your deepest heart, that you’re right where you’re suppose to be in this big wide world. Now that I’m home (current HOR), it doesn’t ‘feel’ like home. It feels like a familiar place, like I’m actually staying at a friend or relatives’ place but I have my own pillow. Ya know? Maybe? Ok let’s move on. Needless to say, I can’t wait to find a house and get moved out there. I miss having a MT license plate on my vehicle.

It’s the dog-days of summer. My least liked time of year. I prefer the no man’s land of late February over this, even! My motivation and effort are so lacking, I think they might still be on vacation! So my training and workouts haven’t been doing too spiffy. I did however, prior to our trip west, complete a month of Keto and dropped six pounds, three inches and 1.5% body fat. I also discovered a much kinder, gentler, not-crazy me during my cycle change. My beloved says that’s a huge victory and reason to get back on the Keto-train ASAP! Hmmm, think he’s trying to tell me something? My mind was clearer and quicker firing on the keto diet (I use the word ‘diet’ merely out of convenience, as most assume a diet is a temporary thing that cannot be maintained. When in fact the opposite is true in this case, Ketogenic is a life style change.), since the brain is made up of mostly fat and water, which I was getting in abundance. Please note, these are very healthy fats, not just whatever crap. Here are some great resources to reasearch this for YOURSELF. Don’t take my word for it, do your homework.



Keto for Women

I hope you learn something new and helpful, even if you don’t choose to try this nutrition plan. These links should get you started, if you are interested.

Now I need to get back to work, I have much cleaning to do and packing. I’ll share about that in my next post. Until then, train hard and play hard.






“We’re going on an adventure!”

I should just make it a habit of saying that every morning when I sit up in bed. Because when you Follow God, and you are open to the Flow of the Holy Spirit, crazy stuff happens. Amazing things. EVERY DAY. Just a few weeks ago, we were feeling that subtle atmospheric change that means something is coming. My husband said we were getting too comfortable and stagnant. God is going to force us to grow. Oh boy. And we are, growing and going, way out of our comfort zone. We’re moving. We don’t know when yet, most likely next spring after school is out, but we need to be ready to go sooner if God says to. We know where, but we aren’t sharing that at this time with the general public. My husband has a job waiting for him, we’re waiting for God to line up a house for us and the means to get there. It’s exciting and scary at the same time. It wasn’t our first choice, definitely not what we were expecting, and will require a LOT of obedience. I’m choosing to keep trusting it’s all going to work out beautifully, because that’s how God does things. So, while I de-clutter, pack and sort, I’m actively worshipping God and praying for His guidance in EVERY. SINGLE. STEP.

I ask you, friends, please be praying for us in this time of change and growth. We’re going to need it! God be with you.

Proverbs 11

1The lord detests the use of dishonest scales,

but he delights in accurate weights.

2Pride leads to disgrace,

but with humility comes wisdom.

3Honesty guides good people;

dishonesty destroys treacherous people.

4Riches won’t help on the day of judgment,

but right living can save you from death.

5The godly are directed by honesty;

the wicked fall beneath their load of sin.

6The godliness of good people rescues them;

the ambition of treacherous people traps them.

7When the wicked die, their hopes die with them,

for they rely on their own feeble strength.

8The godly are rescued from trouble,

and it falls on the wicked instead.

9With their words, the godless destroy their friends,

but knowledge will rescue the righteous.

10The whole city celebrates when the godly succeed;

they shout for joy when the wicked die.

11Upright citizens are good for a city and make it prosper,

but the talk of the wicked tears it apart.

12It is foolish to belittle one’s neighbor;

a sensible person keeps quiet.

13A gossip goes around telling secrets,

but those who are trustworthy can keep a confidence.

14Without wise leadership, a nation falls;

there is safety in having many advisers.

15There’s danger in putting up security for a stranger’s debt;

it’s safer not to guarantee another person’s debt.

16A gracious woman gains respect,

but ruthless men gain only wealth.

17Your kindness will reward you,

but your cruelty will destroy you.

18Evil people get rich for the moment,

but the reward of the godly will last.

19Godly people find life;

evil people find death.

20The lord detests people with crooked hearts,

but he delights in those with integrity.

21Evil people will surely be punished,

but the children of the godly will go free.

22A beautiful woman who lacks discretion

is like a gold ring in a pig’s snout.

23The godly can look forward to a reward,

while the wicked can expect only judgment.

24Give freely and become more wealthy;

be stingy and lose everything.

25The generous will prosper;

those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed.

26People curse those who hoard their grain,

but they bless the one who sells in time of need.

27If you search for good, you will find favor;

but if you search for evil, it will find you!

28Trust in your money and down you go!

But the godly flourish like leaves in spring.

29Those who bring trouble on their families inherit the wind.

The fool will be a servant to the wise.

30The seeds of good deeds become a tree of life;

a wise person wins friends.

31If the righteous are rewarded here on earth,

what will happen to wicked sinners?    NLT

This chapter has been repeatedly been brought up to read, so clearly I have much to glean from it and just haven’t finished yet. So I’m sharing it with you. I think I will actually try to break it down into pieces and study the meaning of these nuggets of wise advice and truth. Some seem pretty straight forward, others are a little strange-sounding to me. Here’s to gleaning wisdom from Scripture.

New Boots

I’m not a shoe girl, you know. I don’t have dozens of heels, pumps, wedges, stilettos, or the like. I have less than a dozen pairs of footwear and less than half of those are worn on a very constant basis. I’m not joking, I have probably three pairs of shoes that I wear “all the time”; my black flats, my water shoes and my cowboy boots. Otherwise, I’m barefoot quite a lot.

But though I may not go ga-ga over a pair of Madden Girls or Jimmy Choo’s, I was pretty stoked about my first pair of medieval style leather boots. It felt like Christmas getting them in the mail after a long wait that was well worth it. Ohh the smell of leather and metal creeping from the packaging as I opened it had a mile-wide smile on my face. Hobnails and steel-toes. I love the buckles! I need to break them in a little, with a good pair of wool socks, out in the yard. They already fit very well, which is a HUGE sigh of relief! I’m looking forward to getting them to that ‘part-of-me-like-a-second-skin’ stage like I got most of my combat boots, and my cowboy boots to. There’s nothing like the feel of a good pair of boots that are molded to your feet. Aren’t they pretty? Hehehe!



If you’re in the market, I got these from Icefalcon Armory, Andre has everything you need to get started and stay geared up for ACL fighting. We’ve purchased many items from him and will continue to. He’s also half of the founding duo that started the league, go pay him a visit!

You can read more about the ACL here, and google some news stories, because we aren’t shy! See you on the field, folks.

Hot Apple Cider and Detective Work

It’s been a rough couple days for me physically. I either caught a very exclusive tummy bug, or got a light case of food poisoning. I can’t tell for sure either way. I’m just glad I haven’t had to throw up, that makes my throat & teeth hurt so much. Ok, enough on that, ew. Anyways, I’m doing much better, thank God!

During my enforced recovery time for my recent hernia surgery, I came across a Welsh detective show called “Hinterlands”. I was hooked from the first episode, and was quite pleased that they were nice, hour and a half long ones. Welsh is a culture and language that I’m not as familiar with as my own Irish heritage. So while watching this show, I paid close attention to the landscapes, street and building signs, product displays, how people spoke to each other, names used and slang phrases. I would like to think I learned a lot, but at it’s a BBC Wales TV show, I would like to just make sure by cross-referencing things. It gave the air of very authentic, but again, it’s still a tv show…for entertainment purposes only. I was very sad that it was only nine episodes long and ended on a cliff hanger, as well as there being several plot building links that leaves me thinking they fully intended to carry on, but perhaps BBC pulled a “Fox” and cancelled them. Boo.

My left shoulder is still aching and tingling since surgery. I don’t know what they tweaked, but I wish it was fixed. I have little grip strength, and putting downward pressure on my hand/wrist, as for in the case of planking or push ups, it’s extremely painful and my whole arm gives out. I’m worried, that’s my shield arm and I use a punch shield. How can I defend and punch if I can’t even lift my shield, as light as it is?? I’m going to have to call the VA surgery center and talk to them about this. It often hurts so bad, it wakes me up at night. I’m also going to have to trust God. Funny how that’s not my first instinct? I’m a frightened child. I panic before I think about the right answer, and then I struggle because the right answer is difficult to put into effect because it’s hard to give up control.

All you who fear the lord, trust the lord! He is your helper and your shield. Psalms 115:11 (NLT) 

The Lord is my shield. Why do I need to worry about my shield arm so much, when I have the very Creator of the Universe in my corner? I just have to trust.



Obligatory Memorial Day post

I dislike military holidays. There, I said it. Why? Because I still have a lot of healing and work to do on myself that makes these days very hard to deal with. I shudder a little bit inside, every time someone thanks me for my service. You’re welcome? Really? Are you? Are you just saying that? Do you even have the faintest idea what is churning and roiling within me, ripping and tearing, screaming at the crusty scabs on my heart and soul. I’m battling a black slime of self-doubt that envelopes me, a lie that sweetly whispers in my inner ear, “You’re worthless now, you’ll never wear your uniform again because you’re useless now. You will never feel wanted and respected again. You don’t even have a physical injury to garner sympathy, no one really believes you’re injured. No one really thinks you did your part. You have no scars to prove you served at all. You don’t deserve anyone’s gratitude, now you’re just a pathetic leech, cowering in the corner of the VA hospital waiting rooms. You’re just a whiner. Go crawl in a hole and die, because no one will miss you, they’ll be glad you’re no longer a drain on their resources.”

This is what I hear inside, nearly all time. And when its a bad day, when that voice gets louder and more persuasive sounding, it’s days like that, that I wish they would have just cashed that blank check I signed my life on. Then at least I’d have the honor of having died for something worthwhile, right?

I wish I could say that the only thing that get’s me through the rough times is my family, or my friends, or God’s faithful promises and love. But it’s not just one thing, it’s all those and more and it’s not easy. I often need to lay there and scream and cry it out in God’s presence because He’s the only one who can understand the depth of my pain. Jesus willingly stepped into Hell to battle for my soul and sometimes I’m the one who needs a reminder, in the same way that our countrymen need reminding that they have all these freedoms because others selflessly died and were tormented, for them. Everyday, is Memorial Day for me. Everyday. Not just today, not just Easter, not even every Sunday. EVERYDAY.

I miss my battle buddies. I miss the stupid “hurry up & wait” that was the Army in a nutshell. I miss the crappy food that gave me man farts at the most in opportune times. I miss the roar and rumble of a humvee trying to go highway speeds. I miss the little head games I played to stay awake on duty or in long, boring, pointless formations. I miss the smell of oil on my hands after cleaning an old M16A2 that hadn’t been touched in a coon’s age, and the feeling of pride that, that fourty-five minutes spent chipping the carbon off the firing pin was my doing and made it look like new, though no one gave a damn. I miss the comfort of my favourite pair of boots. I miss knowing what I was wearing to work everyday with no trouble. I even miss those 0300 PT formations, when it’s still chilly enough to leave you covered in goose bumps, and looking forward to the knee grinding slow run even though you hate it so much. I miss the snapping sound the flag makes when it’s unfurled and held out over the coffin. I miss the smell of the spray-on starch. I miss the feel of the green wool blankets. I miss the shoulder numbing weight of my ruck. I miss the boring and ugly manuals that haven’t been updated since my grandpa served. I miss looking to my left and catching a glimpse in the bottom of my vision, of my MP brassard. I miss standing in line to shake hands with the newest promotion and punching them right on their newly earned insignia. I miss how my cap fit, perfectly, after countless times of ranger rolling it, “just so”. I miss feeling like I mattered in my small way in the grand scheme of things and having everyone, even people I had never met, know it and respect it.

I miss so much of that life, but I have to learn to let it go. Remembering and missing things is one thing, but dwelling on them and never getting beyond them, is another. I don’t regret enlisting, but I do regret how I handled my life during that time and how much opportunity I missed out on because of being young and dumb, ready to party and the drop of a hat. Being that typical E-4 Specialist, ya know?

But God uses all things for good. He scooped me up in His arms when I had fallen to the dusty depths and wiped my tears, and keeps wiping them away when they come flooding back. I wouldn’t be who I am today without Him, and without having gotten kicked in the crotch by Life(not sharing this part today). I could have chosen differently, and I’d still be a wreck. But I chose Jesus, I figured it couldn’t get any worse and those people I knew who talked about Him like He was their friend, seemed a lot happier even when things were tough. So I decided to see if He’d be my friend. I had nothing left to lose. I was told I had PTSD, and all the stigma that goes with it. Anxiety, depression, flashbacks, insomnia, headaches, panic attacks that left me a quivering, blubbering mess on the bathroom floor. Jesus was right there with me the whole time, even if I was so lost feeling that I couldn’t even see Him. He’s still holding my hand as I type all this and get it off my chest. It’s been over five years since my attack, and my career dive bombing because of it. But I’m slowly learning that my worth is not in what uniform I wore, or whether I still can wear it, but it’s in the fact that I’m the Daughter of a mighty warrior King, I’m a soldier in His Army now, and I fight battles daily. Sure I don’t always do very well, but He’s got my back.

Especially when that silky voice starts telling me the lies I used to believe. Jesus puts His hand on my shoulder and turns me away, toward the light and tells me to just keep moving forward, let it fall behind, where it belongs. I have to keep moving. To stop is to accept my doom. It’s a daily battle. And I stumble a lot. Sometimes I have to focus so hard on just taking that next step, that I seem standoffish and rude to people. I don’t mean to be, just know that I’m struggling and it’s not you, it’s me. Ohhh how cliché. Remember that, when you genuinely thank me for my service and I have to let a growl cross my face and pass, clear my throat and finally reply, “You’re welcome.” I mean it, I was and still am proud to have served you, and would do so again in a heartbeat. I’m in a different Army now, where I get no thanks or recognition and that’s ok, I’m learning to be ok with that. I’m still serving you, I’m battling for your eternal soul now, and not just your physical bodies and ideals. I’m a warrior by nature, I’m still battling. Thank you God, for not giving up on me, for not sending me home with a discharge. Thank you for showing me I’m still worth something.