R&R

I sit in the quiet of my mind.

I love being a my parent's house.  I am here now and was enjoying being outside on their deck.  The morning was cool and the sun was playing peek-a-boo with the clouds.  Shadows danced on the wooden deck constantly moving and it reminded me of how quickly my emotions are changing from one extreme to the other to yet another.  Look up and you can see the cloud coming to cover the sun, you see the effect of it...there is less light there is a shadow that attacks the ground with a darker cover.  I can feel a darkness coming in my mind, that I am going to think about something painful and it brings about a range of different feelings.  Mourning, betrayal, sadness, anger, even peace all experienced in a matter of minutes, then the sun shines again and there is light and warmth and I sigh with relief that the shadow storm is over, even if only for a minute.  It is exhausting, but in my moments of serenity I can enjoy what God is giving me right now.  Right now I get to enjoy this beautiful piece of property that is away from people.  Life in the bubble.  It's my safe place.  I am reminded of how blessed I was growing up to have a place so secure.  It's a clearing in the woods, on a hill.  Lay down in the grass anywhere and you can see a fortress of trees looking down on you, offering protection.  Short trails in the woods offered my young self a start to being in love with the outdoors, exploration, and adventure.  There is evidence of history, stone walls that used to separate fields, burnt hollowed out trees from a fire caused by a train that no longer runs.  This was my world growing up.  My imagination ran free here.  The landscape has changed a bit from when I lived here, but it still holds the same aura.  It is here that I can process and not be cluttered with outside noise.  It is here that I have had numerous God given "AHA" moments.  Believe it or not I have done more growing up and maturing here in the last 2 years than I ever did when I actually lived here.  I have grown to understand things about my parents, especially my mom, and I have grown to really enjoy my siblings.  I have come to truly appreciate them for all they have done and all they continue to do.

To My Wreslter

I've watched you wrestle.  I've seen you struggle, I've seen you fight, I've seen you be pinned by the truths defined by ignorant ones you loved.  I've observed your brain working to decipher what is true.  I have answered your questions and tried not to push.  Encouragement came naturally of course, but because you are such a people pleaser I tried to be cautious and not let my desire for you, force you into something you didn't quite understand.  This was a choice you had to make on your own.  The good news was brought to you and most times you did not want to hear it.  Seven years on this earth did not mean you were immune to doubt and you found clever ways to swim back to the shallows when feeling like you were getting in too deep.  You battled to believe, to make sense of it all.  God gave you candles to introduce you to the light, not too loud or blinding, but slow burning and consistent.  These candles did not make a plan together but were used in God's plan for you to be saved by his son.  Your questions were inquisitive and provoking, you collected information like an investigator.  And when the time came that you were ready, you were indeed ready.  You set a time, and a place... one that was a common place for conversations void of outside noise.  A place that so many of your questions had been asked and answered in the months before.  I held my breath as you began to reach your hand out to Jesus, not sure if you were really going to open your hand up to him and hold on for dear life as he saved you from the death you would face. Hours passed, silent prayers were said for you, and for me as I would be the one with you during this precious moment.  I became nervous as we neared the end of our nighttime ritual.  One book, one story out of the Jesus book, and then bedtime prayers.  Excitement filled you as you could barely get the words out "It's time to make the choice!!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out the alphabetical road map mimi had written out for you.   I watched and listened as you now answered my questions, I reviewed the plan one last time and asked if you were sure, we prayed together.  I hugged you.  I told you I was so happy that you were one day going to live with Jesus along with me.

I have always felt my own salvation story is boring, and lame.  It isn't, because of what Jesus did, it could never be lame.  Please know that after watching this process, your story is far from lame and I will try my best to always remember the moments leading up to this so I can help you to understand how much God worked on you, how often Jesus knocked on your door, and how often you did not answer.

Please know that this is only the beginning and being a follower of Jesus is a journey not an end point.  I will be there to pray for you, and watch as God uses you in the lives of those around you.  I am praising Jesus for making a home in your heart and for allowing me to witness such a moment.

Already, you are proving to have a heart for those still in the dark.  Brynn is only 6 months old and you made sure you put the road map in her room so she may believe as well.

Confession Time

Writing was something I did enjoy in high school.  The class assignments were fun enough and I usually received above average grades.  But I hated keeping a journal.  It's like once the ideas and emotions in my brain were written down on paper, I realized how crazy I sounded and having the written evidence was something I just couldn't allow.  The paper would normally end up as food for the trash can.  So a year ago when my counselor (among others, our pastor is a big supporter of journals for spiritual growth..shout out to Vince) suggested I start to journal, an eye roll from myself quickly followed.  However, I listened and conformed, and I still continue to this day .  I have only read them once from beginning to end and it amazes me now.  It is a well documented timeline of my ups and my downs.  A history book...or for those of us who gravitate toward gender equality "Herstory" book.  It is a testament to God's hand in our lives.  Documentation of self awareness and epiphany type breakthroughs that can only be defined as gifts of insight from our heavenly father.  So many tearful entries written, that to read them now makes me glad time has passed and I never have to relive that day again.  But all these are so personal and the only place they exist are in a leather bound book that is carried with me mostly everywhere.  The only eyes its been opened to are my own.  Vulnerability in the form of penmanship.  Even my handwriting is different, switching from the usual architect type writing, in all caps, clean and neat.  Instead in the journal, the ink flows from my coveted micron pen with fluidity and without much thought.  Cursive is dying in our public schools, it is alive and well in my hand.  Why am I telling you this?

I just got over the fear of writing for myself and felt pushed to step out of my comfort zone to blog an edited version of my journal.  I want others to see the transformation.  I am not blogging everyday because honestly I don't have that much to say.  I blog when I feel led, no pressure.  Recently though, I felt crippled by fear whenever I thought of writing on my blog.  After pausing and taking a step back I realized it was because people were reading it.  (I know, duh it's online for everyone to see..bear with me) I had opened myself up, I put windows in the walls of my fortress so others could view pieces of my life that aren't visible.  

All the feedback I have received has been positive and encouraging.  And while I am appreciative, I ask that you please not feed my sinful appetite to be the center of the universe and glorify myself instead of God.  Help me to stay humble, help me point to Christ.  In order for this to happen, it is important that Christ is my center, so if you want to help me, pray for me.  I have a long walk ahead and struggle to make time for Jesus in my daily life.  As always I know I am a work in progress and this isn't just a part of the journey, it IS the journey.  

growth will happen

Just Imagine the Cute Bunnies with Horns... its super late..or early... so its the best I could do title wise.

It was a rough day.  In fact it's been a rough couple days.  Tomorrow is Easter and the last couple days are proof I am being robbed.  The culprit is described as a lion seeking to devour, a thief, a false angel of light, murderer.  Satan.

Easter is meant to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  It is the epitome of sacrificial love.  I have been given the greatest eternal gift and I am allowing Satan to burglarize this celebration.  I have let him in, entertained the ideas he's whispered in my ear, and allowed my heart to be attacked.  He has been succeeding in creating a diversion.  Even on a good day it is hard for me to grasp what Jesus has done for me.  I don't think I am alone in this either, why else do we need Hollywood to recreate the Crucifixion, or the History channel to educate us on a timeline of just what they believe to have happened in the days leading up to His death, or someone to document what exactly happened to His body medically speaking.  I crave more than just a 90 minute pop culture display to tug on my heart and to stir up a feeble attempt to be grateful.  I want it to sink into  the innermost part of my heart.  I want to truly understand.  But God doesn't leave us to fend for ourselves against the enemy.  With only a couple hours left before its officially Easter, God whispers a beautiful melody in my ear, its hypnotic and drowns out Satan's screeching murmurs.  He says, "Daughter, remember what I have given to you, remember that I have saved you from death."  Clarity allows me to breathe again.  My joy has been restored.  I am a softened heart, God had a word with me and I have been reminded of the bigger picture. (again.) 

This will always be a process.  It's not just about the story of Jesus hanging on a cross for us.  It's about everything he was while he was alive on earth and everything he continues to be for us, he was the perfect lamb that was killed to cover us and all our ugly!  When is the last time I took the blame for someone else...not lately.  But he did.  For you, for me, for those who are not even born.  It was a gift I accepted as a preteen.  Tomorrow is about remembering that, praising Jesus for being my savior, and praying for those who have yet to accept this gift.  

As for Satan...the only time I'll let him in on the celebration is as a side dish... I do love deviled eggs!

John 3:16

Acts 4:12

Acts 16:30-31

Romans 10:9-10

Witnessing the Firsts

Every parent seems to enjoy documenting the "firsts" of their children.  Babybooks have spaces to be filled with all the necessary information, so one day you may look back and know that you were right on pace with all the achievements that allow you to be mobile and communicate and eat.  For our generation we have social media to document with photos and chalkboards to give our viewers monthly updates.  This is great, I wish I was this dedicated to the growth of my children.  However, on a scale of one to ten (ten being the best) I am about a one on the good parent scale.

Instead the "firsts" we love to remember are the family activities.  Welcome to our first family camping trip!!  Camping with a baby presents new problems to be solved.  My husband and I both love problem solving, figuring out a better way, and then finding success with a solution.  Our camp site was a short hike away from the car (about 40 min gradual uphill).  My husband carried Brynn in our Osprey hiking pack, I carried the rest of the supplies, Jackson carried his own gear plus card games, and zeke (yes our dog) carried his food and water for all of us.

This whole experience was a test run for a future trip that would be more nights, a farther hike, and no doubt overall just more intense.  The hike to the site can be the most frustrating.  Jackson is a "go at your own pace" kind of kid.  He cannot be rushed.  Brandon and I are both get there quick people. Jackson forces us to get creative with keeping him motivated and also forces us to enjoy the journey to get to the destination.  Being a picture pirate (Running ahead of us so he could point out things for me to photograph) was one way we kept him moving.  Another way was asking him to stay in front so Brynn could watch him (he loves to entertain her).  You definitely must evaluate your expectations and realize you are training a new generation of outdoor lovers so you must focus on making it a positive experience over accomplishing your own adult geared goals.
Believe me if you want to test your ability to work together as a family, camp together.  Everyone has a job and your success to build a fire, cook food, and set up camp depends on everyone doing their part.  Brandon and I have dual camping down, camping with a family is still new and needs some refining.  One thing we realized is someone has to be on baby duty the whole time.  In our case we took turns depending on her eating schedule.  Luckily, Jackson is getting to the age where he is becoming more useful.  As a seven year old he is fascinated by a dancing fire, and although he burned himself 3 times before finally realizing fire can be dangerous, he was learning how and what in an environment that was safe.  We were there to oversee...he is still alive.  (when did we stop letting kids be kids anyway?)
Sleeping arrangements can be tricky between the dog, the baby, and having sleeping bags rated for the temperatures predicted for the night.  We dress in polyester to sleep and usually keep our base layers underneath.  Brynn started out next to me in PJ's and her snowsuit but eventually because of her nightly feeding ended up in my sleeping bag with me,  Brandon was next, then Jackson and Zeke slept on the extra material of his sleeping bag.  It was a rough night for all of us.  Between runny noses, sore backs, and the memory of a stupid bear attack movie I watched, none of us really got the sleep we needed.  Even with the lack of sleep Id say this trip was still successful.  Mostly because of what we learned!

Things we have figrued out:
-we have found a way to camp even more minimally
-our tent is literally the most awesome tent we have ever had (MSR pappa hubba ultralight tent)
-s'mores are a must when taking the whole family camping: use chocolate chip or fudge dipped cookies to limit how many ingredients you have to pack.  That way you only need marshmallows and the cookies, no chocolate bars

Problems to be solved:
-Diapers... whether disposable or cloth they both present problems and you still have to carry the dirty ones with you.
-Osprey hiking carrier (at least this one) does not come with a sunroof (Deuter does) we also need to purchase a rain cover
-Jackson has asthma, we need a plan just in case he has an attack

Being married to a Brandon

Being a Patchel requires you to be adventurous.  Being Brandon (the eldest of three boys) means an adventure is not worth having unless there is an element of danger.

If you looked up the name Brandon you would find that it means brave.  His parent's could not have picked a better name for him.  Brave is defined as being ready to face and endure danger or pain.  From the time I met Brandon I knew he was different.  While most men seem to enjoy the activities the great outdoors have to offer, Brandon takes it to a new level.  He is extreme, he loves to do things others may fear, and he does not seem to waiver at all.  I have witnessed him facing scary moments head on without hesitation. The man thrives on things most would never want to go up against.  He waits for intense scenarios to happen just so he can conquer something bigger.  He has been given this hunger to go faster, hike farther, climb higher, and survive on less. 

So it should be no surprise that our family activities are harmonious with his life mentality.  In fact, our daughter was just 4 weeks old when we took her to a local climbing spot.  Do you see the picture to the right? They should send jogging strollers to him to test their limits (ours passed with flying colors).  He was so excited for her to hold her head up so he could use the hiking carrier.  Most recently she is able to sit up on her own, you guessed it, time to break out the bike seat.  All this is evidence he is beyond excited to share his passions with his family. This year he is pushing my own limits, walking me through things I never thought I'd do.  I thought I was hardcore, until I met him.  My goals linger in the shadows compared to his.   

This is not just with hobbies but with the way he looks at life in general.  I knew being married to him would never be boring.  He is always stepping out of the comfort zone most people have in life.  He is willing to put himself out there, into pain, or danger.  Brave in life's journey.  Uninhibited by the dangers that lurk.  I love him for this, and I hate him for this.  It scares me.  I worry I won't be protected if I have to face something scary. But one day, I hope to learn to completely let go of the fear, and trust God is in control.  When that day comes I know Brandon's wings will finally be free and the life we live will be the most glorious we've seen.  

God gave me someone who would be a step ahead of where I was and who was willing to push the limits farther than I ever thought I was willing to go.  I did receive God's best.  

We meet in the middle, but will journey far together

2009- Congratulations it's a boy!  I knew I would thoroughly enjoy being the mother of a son. All my childhood was spent enduring bike crashes, exploring creeks, building bridges, and even peeing outside (much to mother's dismay).  My father called me the wild child, my mother called me accident prone, my friends thought of me as a tom boy.  I knew he would not lack in adventuring even though he was being raised by a single mom.

one marriage and 6 years later

2015- Congratulations it's a girl!  My world of skinned knees and muddy hands came to a screeching halt in my mind.  I was a deer in the headlights when I thought of the road I would have with my daughter.  Fear crippled me.  How? How was I going to do this?? Girls are so complicated, so emotional, so...pink!  I remember premature conversations with my husband about the future troubling teen years and how she would most definitely hate me during them.  It was all so new and I was scared.  

However, the more she grows, the more I let go of this fear.  I cannot believe how connected we are to one another.  I look at her and she lights up, we ignite joy in one another.  She is helping me find femininity, she sparks memories of girly times full of daily tutu dressing and dreaming of being a prima ballerina.  She has sparkle and she is beautiful and lively.  And yet the sweetness of her smile does not hide her desire for adventure.  She's destined to be a daredevil; she loves being tossed and roughed around.  She has been calmed by the presence of trees and the wide open sky, she already appreciates God's beautiful creation but must remain in motion.  Now it is exciting to think about the future.  What is even more amazing is that in watching her grow I am learning to see my own worth.  God knew I needed a girl.  The best way we learn is by teaching.  Showing her how valuable she is because we are God's own daughters is teaching me how valuable I am.  Looking at her is like looking at the reflection of my own soul.

**We chose Renee as her middle name, same as mine.  She looks nothing like me but sharing a middle name makes me feel more connected to her.  Just for some background Renee is the female version of  Rene.  The name Renee means "reborn".  I'd say it's pretty fitting.

Brynn Renee 5 1/2 months