PAIN

       How do you describe pain? All of the adjectives in the world can't describe the pain some people feel inside. The loss of a parent, raising a sibling when you are only still a child yourself...being neglected, physically and emotionally. The type of abuse not even you can describe appropriately...I see it in the eyes of a child and my heart breaks into a thousand pieces...memories flood my heart and I remember walking down the streets of Chicago, what seems like another lifetime yet only 10 years ago when I was only 18, 19 and 20...I remember walking into their homes, seeing the chaos, seeing the brokenness, feeling the heartache when I just wanted to scoop up a small child out of their situation...I wanted to take them home with me and tell them that this doesn't have to be their life forever. I remember one home that I visited had several foster boys; I forget how many boys lived there...anyway, their foster mom loved them very much, and she made every effort to allow them to ride our bus every Sunday. I can just see Chicago in my mind's eye right now...I'm pretty sure if I was dropped off where I used to walk every Saturday, I probably wouldn't be lost...I'd probably be able to find my way to at least some of the houses I used to visit.
       But I'm not in Chicago anymore....I'm here in West Virginia where there are still broken stories...I have to hold back the tears and remain strong as they tell me about how their mom died when they were 3 or even 5, the same age as my own babies. I hold my breath  to stay strong as they tell me that when they are home, they are required to be the "MOM" to their siblings. Then I stood there while in group yesterday afternoon and watched a girl who usually flips out at the drop of a hat, apologize to a new staff member for giving her a hard time and that she will work on doing better...I think all of us, staff members, were ready to cry. That was a HUGE step in her life. I think what hurts me the most is the type of pain I see when they cut themselves....I've read that that is their way of coping with the inner pain they are feeling....they don't know any other outlet for pain.
       All of this brings me down to my subject...how do you properly describe PAIN? Is it the stabbing feeling in the pit of your stomach that a loved one is gone...is it the sinking feeling that you no longer have a home...is it the gnawing feeling that your lift has shifted in a way you didn't expect...is it the loss of your baby that was so very much apart of you as you carried it inside...is it the rejection of someone you thought cared....is it the loss of someone you thought was your friend....is the horrible pressure in the middle of your chest when you feel you can't breathe as you panic that nothing will ever slow down long enough for you to stand on two feet????? It can be any one of these things mentioned and so much more....how do you properly describe how someone is feeling? How can it be put on paper? I don't even think it's humanly possible to describe what the heart is truly feeling...you can only imagine, empathize and do the best that you can...especially if you have never been in a similar situation.
        As we all walk our daily life, we all should stop at some point and realize that we aren't the only ones who exist....someone somewhere is crying himself to sleep...someone is weeping over a fresh grave...someone holds their son or daughter's dog-tags close to their heart, wishing they could say, "I love you," one more time...someone is alone and wondering where their next meal is coming from....some child is hiding in a closet while their parent is passed out drunk or fried...some mother is looking down at an empty crib where all of her dreams are gone...someone, somewhere is in PAIN....

This and That

       Well, it seems like I don't get on here much to write, but this is one of the best things I can do....write. GROWL! I feel like I want to scream but there's no sound sometimes! I don't know why I have always wanted to work with troubled teens; then now I'm doing it and in no way are you really prepared as to how you will really really feel or respond. When you start something like this, you are putting your heart out there to be trampled over and over again; eventually, I believe that it will be scar-tissue and you won't feel anything anymore...at least, that's how I see it. I haven't worked with teen for about 5 years now when I taught school and the youth group....those kids did the same things to me then too...BUT my heart has always been to work with teens again, and this time, it's with kids with NO coping skill whatsoever....Don't get me wrong, I am in no way complaining....just venting the frustrations that I can't fully tell another soul and have them fully understand. And maybe in some way, I can walk away from my lap-top and forget that I have feelings. Maybe I will be able to say, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, please make me into a brick WALL!" I'm getting better, I suppose, but I've only been at this for a little over a month now. I've been saying that I want to make a difference in somebody's life, and now here's the chance.....Maybe, I will be honored to see some of the positive results in the distant future. Now, I know how to better train my own children to be model citizens and not end up like these kids. I can't help it....I love them whether they feel the same for me, it doesn't matter....I will be sad when they leave the program but also happy that they were able to complete it.
       On a different note, I am doing better with my work-out program. I met with my personal trainer today, and she encouraged me that I look like I'm getting into shape. She REALLY worked me out today as well! Balance exercises on a Bosu Ball looks easier than it really is! Let's just say that as I was doing these exercises, I was pleading, "MERCY!" in my mind. I'm NOT a wimp by any means, and I'm happy to say that my core is getting stronger and stronger every day. I feel muscles I didn't even know existed for the past  29 years of my life! I even strained a few in my upper back that I have to be careful with....but eh, it's all good. I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. Being strong physically will make you strong mentally as well. This is transforming me inside and out! I am happy to announce that I have lost 50 pounds! I have worked so hard for this! I still have a little ways to go, but I have gone far. For anyone who thinks they can't do it, you're wrong....once you have a breaking point, there will be no return for you....you have to have a breakthrough, a point where you realize that you are stronger than you think you are...a place where you know that you can do this and that you are worth doing it for.
       I have been following alot more sports lately; maybe it's because I am a football fanatic (GO STEELERS AND OSU!), but in all I love baseball, hockey, basketball, etc...oh, I'll even watch racing. I don't know...I was jazzed that the Pittsburgh Penguins won the other night! Now, I'm rooting for my Cleveland Cavs! Just thought I'd throw this paragraph in for all you sports' fanatics and haters! :)
       Life is good; I love my kids and hubby. I have great friends and family, but most of all, I love my GOD. Without Him, I am nothing but a piece of clay, dirt...He is my everything.

FOREVER

       It was only a week ago that I was with the whole family in Ohio...it was a week ago that I saw my Grandma Tirado in the morning, went over my sister's house to watch NEW MOON, then celebrated my Grandma Wetzl's 87th Birthday that evening. Time and existence seem surreal sometimes especially when someone passes from this earth into eternity. My second cousin, Jimmy Wetzl, was in a tragic accident last Wednesday morning and passed that evening. He was only a year younger than my daddy, and they grew up spending alot of time together. I sometimes feel that time is speeding right in front of my eyes. As I sat in the room with my Grandma Wetzl and watched her as she blew out her candles, I was remember Easters past when we used to gather in my uncle's basement and sang "Happy Birthday" to her...that was when I was a little girl...years have passed and I see the same family, now older, yet they all have the same humor. I happen to feel that even though the body ages, the spirit doesn't. That spirit is built to last FOREVER. We are immortal beings even if our bodies don't live forever. The part of us that laughs, cries, sings, talks, lives forever. When you love me, you love my spirit, the part of me that communes with you. One day, my tongue will be silenced, but I will live FOREVER. My eyes may close in death, you may never hear my voice again on this earth, my arms may never embrace you again, but my spirit lives FOREVER in eternity.
       You may wonder how I am so certain, how I am so at peace with the fact that I know where my spirit will go when I die. I questioned it over and over again throughout the years as I was growing up. I just wasn't grounded in how and why I believed the way I did. Don't get me wrong; my parents raised me in a great Christian home. My dad is a pastor, and every evening, my mom read us a story from the Bible. We prayed before each meal, I was sent to a private school. I was given every opportunity to know where I'd spend eternity. Actually, when I was 7 years old, I knelt beside my bed, right after school, and told God that I was a sinner, I knew Jesus died for me and I asked Jesus in my heart. I believe I was saved that very day, but I really became confused throughout the years as bitterness crept in due to the way some "Christians" treated me and my family. I didn't understand how someone could call themselves a Christian and still act like Satan's brother or sister. I remember being so angry and bitter as a teenager and allowing these people to steal my joy. I hated them with my whole being, all the while going through the motions of being a Christian myself. Yes, I went to church, read my Bible, played the piano in church, sang in the choir...you name it, I probably did it and you would never know all that was brewing under the surface.
       Then, we ran into my dad's cousins who didn't live that far from us. I remember going over their house and my dad talking to them; they even came to church with us for a little while. The little girl, Bridget, was about 10 and she would stop by my school on her way home from her own school. I was a Senior in high school. She was my "ray of sunshine" and I enjoyed talking to her. When she was murdered, I was in such a fog that anyone could hurt such an innocent child. I was angry at God. Mind you, we weren't extremely close, but they had just come into our lives and I was just getting to know my third cousin who shared my last name. I carried that anger and bitterness into college with me. Then while sitting in chapel in December of 1999, I heard a message that kind of put my whole life into perspective. The speaker talked about how his family was in a tragic accident and as his little girl lay bleeding on the road in the pouring rain, he knew that those may have been the last minutes he had with her. He put it into God's hands. I sat there and didn't understand how he could do that. I was confused as to how he could be so calm all the while knowing he may lose his one daughter and have a vegetable with his other daughter. Tears poured down my face and my heart was troubled for the rest of that day.
       That night, when I got off work, I walked back to the chapel and just sat there and cried. I knew everything there was to know about Christianity except the faith part. I was bogged down with anger, guilt and bitterness. All of this was clouding up my spiritual vision and I could not see straight to know whether or not I'd be going to Heaven when I closed my eyes in death. Then this story of FAITH struck me to my core. I was tired of hating people who had messed with my head...I was tired of being angry at all authority just because a few of my authority had taken advantage of their authority and done me and my sister and brother wrong. AND I was tired of being angry at God for allowing my cousin to be murdered. In all, I had blamed God for everything. That very evening, I decided to talk to my dean the next morning. I went to her office and told her everything. She said something that has been with me since. "Liz, how dare you blame God for something He didn't do. He has loved you and will always love you." I bowed my head with tear streaming down my 19-year old face and prayed...I asked God for forgiveness and asked Him to be my Savior once and for all. I re-dedicated my life to Him.
       I became God's child at the age of 7, but I truly committed myself when I was 19. I have been through so much since. Many a tear has fallen from my face, but God has always been there for me, picking me up one piece at a time. I have never doubted my faith since that day, December 14, 1999. Today, I am 29, married with two children and working with troubled youth. I look into their eyes and my heart breaks because I wish for  them to know where they will spend eternity. Some of them hate Christianity or anything to that sounds like it. I've even had one resident tell me they were an atheist. My heart's desire would be that Jesus live through me so they can see that I am not out to hurt them but to help them live a fulfilled adult life. So many broken people all around us...if only they knew where they will be FOREVER...