I know that I’m excited about going back to my old church. Now that I am a mother, I have no interest in drama or cliques. I just want my son to grow up in church and participate in Awana’s and have friends his age. I don’t care who slept with who or who accidentally got pregnant “out of wedlock” or, for goodness sakes, who just came out of the closet. I just. don’t. care. I’m excited to go to services preached by a pastor I fully respect. I am excited to see familiar faces. I am excited to be in a house of God.

My walk has been so rocky for the past few years. My faith in God was really shaken up by some events that I don’t really talk about and I have a hard time letting go of controlling my life. However, this move has really made me rethink my beliefs and just how much faith I can put into him. We needed a certain amount of money and we got it. Our car broke down and we received the necessary funds from a surprising source. All of these little problems crop up and solutions present themselves in the most subtle of ways but they are no less powerful.

For example, Joshua and I were in Starbucks today, bartering with a book reseller over some of our old commentaries and Bibles. I was talking to the man’s wife about our move and why we were moving and there was a lady reading her book that kept watching us but I thought nothing of it at the time. You see, in public, I am not ashamed to play with Noah or dance to overhead music with him. I am quite flamboyant about having fun with my little boy. This usually brings stares so it’s not something new to me. It never occurred to me that she might be paying closer attention than usual until the couple we were selling books to left. Then she walked up, handed Joshua a $20 bill and said, “God bless you in what you are trying to do”, then rushed back to her book and barely acknowledged our thanks (not in a bad way).

After something like that, how does one NOT believe in the power of God and the love that he instills in his children? So you see, my walk with God is in an entirely different place than it was a year ago or even a month ago. I have no idea what’s going to happen when we move. I have no idea where we’ll be a few months from now…but I firmly believe that we’ll be happy and content in due time.

Anyway, there is this series of books by Dean Koontz about a character named Odd Thomas. I bought Dad a copy of the first book for Christmas one year, a copy I probably still have, and he was so happy because it was the perfect gift for him. He LOVED it! It’s one of my favorites as well. The irony that it is about a man who can see and communicate with dead people is not lost on me, either.

The year Dad died, the second book came out, entitled Forever Odd. He would have loved it too. Dean Koontz was always one of his favorite writers, along with Louis L’Amour. One of my clearest memories of my dad is seeing him read a book by Koontz while stretched out on the couch. We would both spend hours in the same room, just reading, and then we’d talk about our books to each other and swap when we were done. I can’t remember a single time that Dad ever told me I was too young or too silly for a book. If I put it down, he didn’t say a word, just offered me another one.

I never realized what a big impact he had on my love for reading. My mother helped teach me how to read when I was three (going on four) and I’ve always been grateful. (Considering that she wasn’t entirely fluent in English at the time, I consider it quite the impressive feat!) I wish I could thank my father but I can thank my mother, so, thank you Mom!

I’m not sure what I was really going to write about. I lost my point in my tangent. I guess I really just wanted to say how much I thought about Dad today and how much I miss him. His birthday is in a month and for the first year since he died, I’ll be capable of going to his grave site to lay flowers…but I don’t think I’m ready. If I’ll ever be ready.

I don’t know. I’m going to bed. My heart hurts enough for one night.

For those that don’t know me, that is huge. For the last several years, I think I’ve wanted a site that received multiple comments daily and some sort of recognition and I wanted to be one of the “in crowd” at Blogher and then when I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to be a wealth of information to other mothers and women and just people in general.

But now…I kind of wish I had embraced anonymity a little more. I’d like to be brutally honest with you myself. For once in my life, I would like to accept who I am and try to work through the muddle in my brain, not the muddle of parenting drama and snark communities and everything that goes with it.

The internet is not that forgiving. I can’t suddenly wipe my site and expect everyone to forget who I am. Besides, while that would be quite lovely, I’m a little sad at the thought that I might mean that little to people I’ve never met. Obviously, I have a complex.

I don’t regret the entries on this site. I’m sure they will continue, actually, because logging my life is of vital importance to me so that one day when I’m old and feeble and can barely remember my name I can read about some twenty-something chick who dotes on her husband and son and wonder what the hell is wrong with her. Or very very right.

Besides, when I moved out here for Joshua, I knew I wouldn’t want to retire here or stay forever. I like it just fine – small towns have their charms, especially this one – but I don’t like the school district or the extreme isolation (The Pioneer Woman would laugh her tush off at me right about now if she were to read this – as if). Moving away was inevitable and this way, we can get back on our feet and let my family enjoy some time with Noah while he’s young. I know that I’ve been worried that my grandmothers wouldn’t bond with him appropriately (though it seems they already did) and I’ve been worried for my mom, who has been in quite a bit of emotional pain that she couldn’t see Noah grow up this past year and a half but now that will change.

However, money, or rather the lack thereof, is our primary driving force. Joshua and I don’t seek to be rich. We simply want to be debt-free and stable. There is scripture about how you cannot serve two masters and I do feel that debt sometimes gets in the way of my relationship with God. (Most of the time its my beef with certain “holes” in scripture but I’m working on those.) I long for the day that I can save up for a purchase without feeling the niggling guilt that the money should go towards paying off a credit card.

Anyway, before I ramble on like I usually do, there is my update. If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you’ll probably be spammed with my pingback links. Sorry. You should know better than to follow me. ;-)

Joshua had a job interview yesterday. Of course, once we finalize our decision to move and tell his parents, he gets an interview. He went, because we figure whatever we can earn is good, except it wasn’t a “definite” like his grandmother said it would be (surprise, surprise) and the uniform would cost way too much up front. Between the uniform and gas (not to mention the time it would steal away), we’d basically break even. Not worth it. He’s supposed to go back Monday with an “answer” to her “question” (that lady is weird) but we decided he would pass.

I earned another $20 today by selling my “Game Collectible” plushies. We have Noah’s open plushies plus his back-up set (he loves them) plus my original set that’s actually softer and more vividly colored than Noah’s. So we’re good, if we ever regret selling off the plushies or whatever.

That puts us at $60/$2000, technically. We may have the answer to our problems but I am hesitant to write about it just yet. Being who I am, I stick with “it isn’t definite until it’s done”. I don’t expect to move to Houston until we’re physically there. There is still the bright glimmer of hope that is what keeps me going. Each box we pack means we’re closer to a new life. Each item we sell means we’re closer to getting back on our feet. I’m making plans. I’m feeling life again.

I don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t happen. I don’t really want to think about it.