Progress

My daughter and I have completely different perceptions of the things around us. One that is blatantly obvious lately is how she interprets any discipline or correction. You see, if we look her in the eye and speak sternly or a little louder than normal, she interprets that as yelling. This is usually followed by her lowering her head, tears flowing and some pretty dramatic responses.

I'll be the first to admit that there have been a couple of times when I did actually yell. (me, not Jeff. He's way too nice for that junk. Truly, he is the nice one in this marriage... in most every way!) I'm not proud of those moments at all. I lost my cool, became the child myself, and pitched a good fit for my child to watch. Really, it's embarassing to think that I would let my kids get the best of me and succomb to something like yelling. Heck, I'll go so far as to say on a few occassions with Bryan, I went past yelling into screaming. (I told you, it wasn't pretty).

But with Ellie, I've tried to be incredibly sensitive to her past and the fact that she is wired differently. Raising my voice to Bryan got his attention, made him aware that I meant what I was saying (even if it was the wrong way to go about it). But for Ellie, it just makes everything worse, and I know this, so I'm careful. (It's the same with joking; she just doesn't understand it at times, and her feelings get hurt very easily.)

And here is where last night comes in. As we were going into Ellie's room to put her to bed, I noticed all of her clothes from her dresser were thrown into the floor. She had been in her room before dinner and was to have put those away. She had even told us that she had already done it. This is certainly not the first time we've dealt with this same issue, and I'll admit that I wanted to yell "What the heck is this mess?".

Honestly, I'm not sure why I reacted the way I did. I just said "The clothes on your floor you are not allowed to wear because you haven't taken care of them. Tomorrow, I'll pick out what you wear to school, and it won't be something you love wearing". I picked up some trash on my way out the door and my daughter said to me words that I won't soon forget:

"Goodnight mommy. Thanks for not yelling at me for my room. I love you".

Y'all... this is huge. I was stern with her, no doubt. She has consequences that she's well aware of for not being honest with us. But there was no sadness or fear in her voice at all.

Ellie has been home for almost 5 years. And last night might be the first night ever that I've witnessed her understand that I was just being a mom. She was secure in knowing that I loved her. She didn't exaggerate my actions out of fear. She didn't shut down completely. She just accepted what I said and moved on.

This is progress, my friends. It's taken a long time to get here... longer than I even realized. But it's progress. Adoption is hard. We've been ridiculously spoiled at how easy our adoption and attachment has been. I know the harsh reality of many friends. And as relatively easy as ours has been, there have still been hard times when it seemed that Ellie may never fully realize that she is 100% ours, with all that encompasses.

I'm the same way, you know. I'm 100% God's girl, yet I often run from him instead of to him. I often misunderstand his words. I often assume he's being mean to me by not giving me my way or treating me different than his other children. But the truth is that he is for me, not against me. He is with me, not abandoning me. He is redeeming me, not disregarding me. He's giving me beauty in exchange for my ashes.

He's doing the same for you. Don't miss that. Don't overlook the progress in your life as you let him do his work.

Living out the Resurrection

This past Sunday, Christians all around celebrated Easter, also known as "Resurrection Sunday". We set aside a day to celebrate the miraculous work of Jesus on the cross.

I love Easter. I love the focus on the victory over death. But what about all the other days? How do we celebrate resurrection in our every day lives?

Let me start by saying that the resurrection was not only for Jesus' life. It is for ours as well. It saddens me to see so many Christians walking around with no hope, overcome by the things of this world. We don't have to live like that, friends. Here's what the Bible says, "For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives". (Romans 6:4) I really like how another translation puts this, "...so that we too might [habitually] live and behave in newness of life".(Amplified bible)

It is time that we really do live and behave in the newness of our life with Christ. It's time to put away worry because He has it all under control. It's time to stop trying to play the role of God and trust the One who is the Great I AM. It's time to stop living as if we have no hope and instead take Him at his word and grab hold of the abundant life He desires for us.

I know there are hurts out there. People are sick. People very dear to me are struggling with major health concerns. It's hard to watch that happen and not be overcome with fear. People all around us are suffering with hunger, oppression, disappointment, depression, selfishness, pride, loneliness, bitterness, and on and on. But friends, hear this: Jesus has overcome that! His work on the cross was enough to overcome every single one of our fears. Every. Single. One.

His work on the cross was for you, my friend.

It's cliche' of Christians to say things like "Just give it to God", I know. But really, give it to him. Whatever it is that you're holding on to, whatever has you bound up in fear and worry, whatever you're holding more firmly than the hand of Jesus... I beg you to give it to him today. I promise that His hands are big enough to hold whatever you will give.

I also promise you that He redeems every single broken thing that we lay before him. My life is living proof of that. I'll end with this example:

Most of you know my story, that I have a history of rape. It was 24 years ago this saturday, April 26th, that I was raped. Some dates you just don't get out of your head. For years, I approached that day with trepidation. Even though I have forgiven and feel "ok", I couldn't help but be reminded of the hurt. Well, this year, on April 26th, I'll have my first book signing for "Colling with Grace" , a book that tells the story of my healing. God is redeeming even that day for His glory. And friends, He LONGS to do the same for you.

The resurrection wasn't just for that day in that time. The Resurrection is for you. Right here. Right now.

What's holding you back from living in the Resurrection power?

The One Thing That Will Remain

I did some shopping alone today, which is a rarity for me these days. I usually have my sidekick along for the ride. But today I stopped to look around on my way home from work, so I had the pleasure of browsing uninterrupted. I'm always amazed at what I see and hear in stores. Today was no different.

A mother and her teenage daughter argued about the price of a dress, the mother not budging despite the daughter's assurance to her that "my life is now over because I'm the only one in the whole freakin' school that won't have a dress like this". (Kudos to mom for not giving in!)

A young wife talked to her husband on the phone, explaining to him that if they could just "get that house then our life would be perfect".

The sales lady was telling her co-worker that "once I get my schooling done, then I'll be ok and life will be better".

We hear it all around us, declarations of this and that which we believe will make us happy, make our life count for something. We buy into the lies that if we don't have that perfect car, house, job, bank account, dress, shoes, children, spouse, Apple gadget, whatever.. that our lives don't matter. We believe the lies that society tells us- that without the latest craze in our lives, we just will never be memorable. We will have nothing that lasts without ___________(fill in the blank).

It's just not true, y'all. You see all of those things will rot away, go away, be taken away. What I kept hearing God whisper in my ear today as I listened to people around me was this, "Only my Church will remain".

The Church, the Body of Christ, is here to stay. When our bank accounts are empty, our houses have fallen down, our clothes have rotted away or no longer fit, when America or the whole world doesn't even exist anymore...The Body of Christ will still remain. God ordained it that way. The Church will still be the radiant Bride of Christ, His creation to spread His good news.

So, what do we do with that? What do we do with this beautiful calling He has given us, to BE THE CHURCH? Well, I believe it starts by loving the church. If we who are the Church can't love one another, then how can we ever love others? I'll be honest, some of the most difficult people in my life to love are among the Church. And if we are painfully honest, some of the Church are the reason that those who are unchurched don't want to be a part. If we love God, we MUST love the church. The Word tells us to" Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ." (Galatians 6:2) It's hard to bear each other's burdens when we're arguing over petty things like style of worship and what we wear. Let's start loving the Church by loving it's people sincerely with our actions.  

Second, I think we have to love the calling of the Church. We are the Bride of Christ. "Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it.  For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." (Ephesians 2:9-10) And what are those things He planned for us? Well, for starters, it's this: "Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19-20) It's hard to make disciples when we stay inside the walls of our church buildings and never get to know those around us. Jesus said to "go". Maybe that means go across the street. Maybe it means go across the ocean. Maybe it means go across the living room floor. I don't know what it means for you, but I do know we have to go.

Finally, I think we have to love those who are not a part of the Church. Really, this is a part of loving the calling of the Church. If we are ever to be like Jesus, that HAS to be our goal. And y'all, this doesn't mean just to love those outside the Church that look and act and dress and talk like us. It's not just a call to love all the iPhone users or the "cool" kids. It's not about just loving those who are nice and, quite frankly, easy to love. I'm talking about REAL LOVE... serving those who are our complete opposites, sacrificing for those who don't look or act like us. I'm talking about spending time with people whose lives are nowhere near our own, people who have a different set of standards and different goals in life than us. I'm talking about people who don't live next door, perhaps don't even live in this country. And I'll remind us all that love is an action word, something we DO, not just a word we say. Jesus met the needs of people. Jesus developed meaningful relationships with those who were not a part of the Church. He intentionally went out of His way to do this. And if we really love His Church like we should, we will do that too because those people need the Church too. And shame on us if we aren't taking it to them.


It's fun to get new things. There is nothing wrong with having things, so please don't hear me say that in this post. But we, the Church of Jesus Christ, have to understand that our "things" can never hold a candle to our God. We possess the solution to every need this world will ever have. The Church will remain forevermore. Let's make sure that those around us are a part.
In other words, let's BE the Church today.

 

18

It's hard for me to even say the words. My little boy, that sweet little 7 pound, 2 ounce baby boy is now a man. A real live adult. We did it. We made it.

I say that only in part jest. There were days I wasn't sure we'd make it. There were days that I prayed it would get here faster. But mostly there were days when just the thought of my boy being all grown up brought the sting of tears to my eyes and a burning in the pit of my stomach.

At 3 weeks old, your projectile vomiting landed us in the radiology department, drinking barium from a baby bottle. I still smile at how you vomited all of it back on that nurse who was so rude.

At 3 years old, I nearly died of humiliation as you dropped your pants in the Merle Norman store, announcing "do you see this? It is full of pee! I go now!" and proceeded to pee all over a fake tree in the store. When questioned, your only response was "Papa let me pee on trees!". Yes, son... but you were hiking in the woods!

At 4, you knew the entire digestive system, and you told it to everyone we met. Everyone. You also knew countless species of spiders and read everything you could get your hands on about them. And don't even get me started on your Star Wars or dinosaur obsessions.

In kindergarten, on the first day of school, you were asked to write your name on your paper. But instead of writing "B-R-Y-A-N" like you'd been able to do for two years, you wrote "B-O-R-I-N-G" to announce to your teacher that you were gonna need more than this.

I believe it was the 3rd grade that brought about your obsession for WW2. You researched everything you could- looking at websites we allowed and books in the kid's department of Barnes & Noble, and finally all of that knowledge culminated in your writing a book about Hitler and his cruelty. Imagine my shock as you leaped off the school bus one afternoon waving that book in the air and shouting, "Momma, you gotta see this! I wrote a book about Hitler! It's awesome!". And imagine the shock of our Jewish neighbor as he could see that you designed the cover of that book with a gigantic symbol of the nazi rule, oblivious to the meaning behind it.

There were many MANY days when Jeff and I yelled to each other in the house, not out of anger, but because you were playing your drums. But your passion was infectious, and I couldn't hardly say "no" to your desire to work on your double bass pedal for "just five more minutes".

How many nights did we spend together curled up on a hospital bed at UK Children's during your 6th grade year? There's no telling how many flushes we did together of your tube, how many dressing changes, how many trips back and forth to the doc. How many times did I hear you say "I'm tired of hurting" or "Why is this happening to me?" and want so badly to answer, but the truth was that I was asking the same questions myself.

All of those days when I picked you up from school in high school, knowing that something wasn't quite right, but you refused to talk about it? I don't know if you can imagine how many of those days I prayed all the way home that I'd know what to say and when to say it, just so that you knew we loved you and were there when you were ready to talk. How many of those days did I wish I worked longer and didn't have to pick you up because you were surly and rude and just plain mean? OH, but today... I'd do it all again with a different attitude because I see that the days are long, but the years do fly by.

We watched and prayed and disciplined while you struggled through drugs and alcohol. We did the hard things, pulling you out of school to homeschool so that we had more control of what you were into, even when you didn't want us to do it. We made the hard decision to send you away shortly until you could understand better our rules, and although we knew it was the right decision, I don't think my heart had ever been so crushed as the moment that the door shut and you were gone.

But with those hard decisions came great joy because we also got to watch you develop the understanding that it was because of our love that we gave discipline. And we watched you begin to come back to life- literally and spiritually. We watched and loved and supported as you began to ask the hard questions of God and to wrestle out the emotions of doubt and fear. We watched as you exchanged drugs and alcohol for peace in Him and a love for yourself that we hadn't seen in a long time. I'm not sure I can ever explain the pride that I feel in seeing how you've overcome those things.

Last year, we sat and cried with you and held you as you poured out your heart and the thoughts of suicide you were having. I nearly melted with pride as you made the decision to get help. But that pride didn't even come close to the pride and joy I felt a year later when I watched you write out your own story for everyone to see on Facebook and bare yourself in order to help others in the same place. Men do that, Bryan. And it was in that moment that I saw that my little boy was no longer a little boy. You were- you ARE- a man.

I'm proud of who you are. There isn't one thing that you've done or said that I'm ashamed of. Sure, there are lessons you've learned the hard way, and I wish you'd have learned them differently. But you've learned and are still learning, and for that I'm grateful. I love who you've become. I love your wit, that dry and quick sense of humor that keeps me on my toes (especially when it comes in text during a meeting!). I love your passion for justice that causes you to speak out when you see others being hurt. I love that you are unique and have NEVER desired to be exactly like anyone else.

My prayer today is that your dad and I have done our part the right way. God gave us a tremendous blessing and privilege and responsibility to be able to raise you. We've tried to honor Him in every step. I've screwed up, I know. A lot. But in my heart, I've always just wanted to do what was best, not for me but for you and God's plans for you. And now it's your turn to take the wheel, so to speak. It's your turn to do something with all we've taught.

I believe in you. I believe that you will do great things. I believe that you have within you all that is needed to change the world. I believe you were made for such a time as this- to take on the world and make it a better place. God has given you talents and skills unique to only you. My prayer is that you never waste them.

Since the first day of your 6th grade year, I've prayed this prayer for you. Every. Single. Day. I pray it still.

"My response is to get down on my knees before the Father, this magnificent Father who parcels out all heaven and earth. I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God. God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us." (Ephesians 3:14-21, the Message)

Hello, my name is....

I drive a red Chevy HHR. (Jeff calls it "holly's hotrod", but the truth is that her name is "Gigi, the ghetto-mobile". Now that we have that settled, I'll move on.) If I were to take a pic of a gold bull and the word "lambourghini" and stick it on my car,would I then be actually driving a Lambourghini? Why, no.. of course not! The only one who can legitimately put a Lambourghini label on a car is Lambourghini. They make it, so they can label it.

I've been listening to some podcasts lately on my drive into work, and today I listened to a sermon call "#hashtag" by Perry Noble. He talked about the labels we are given and give to ourselves and how we wear those around. It got me to thinking today.

I've slapped a few labels on myself over the years, and I'm sure you have as well. I was "perfectionist" and "damaged goods" and "victim" and many other labels for many years. Some of you wear the label of "addict" or "divorcee" or "stupid" or "unwanted" or "mistake" because of the circumstances in your life. Some of you have worn those labels for so long that they are ingrained within your very being. Some of you had those labels put there by a parent or a teacher at a very young age, and all of your life you've believed the lie. Some of you have placed the labels there yourself, then refused to forgive yourselves and so you still carry it today.

Let me propose this to you today. You didn't make you, so you don't have the right to label you. Just like slapping a bull on my car doesn't make it a Lambourghini, slapping a label on yourself (or having it slapped there by someone else) doesn't make it true for you either. God made you. He made me too. The bible tells us that he knit us together in our mothers' wombs. He is the designer of all of us, and therefore, only God has the right to label us.

But how does he label us? Well, I'm glad you asked!

If we are followers of Christ, here is what the bible tells us we ARE.

1. friends of God..."I no longer call you slaves, because the slave does not understand what his master is doing. But I have called you friends, because I have revealed to you everything I heard from my Father" (John 15:15).

2.Justified! "But they are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus" (Romans 3:24).

3.New! "So then, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; what is old has passed away--look, what is new has come" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

4. Righteous. "God made the one who did not know sin to be sin for us, so that in him we would become the righteousness of God" (2 Corinthians 5:21).

5. FREE "For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not be subject again to the yoke of slavery" (Galatians 5:1).

6. Chosen, Holy and Blameless (seriously!) "For he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world that we may be holy and unblemished in his sight in love (Ephesians 1:4).

7.Redeemed and forgiven. "In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace" (Ephesians 1:7).

8. Alive! "But God, being rich in mercy, because of his great love with which he loved us, even though we were dead in transgressions, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you are saved" (Ephesians 2:4-5

9.His workmanship. "For we are his workmanship, having been created in Christ Jesus for good works that God prepared beforehand so we may do them" (Ephesians 2:10)

10. Chosen. "We know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that he has chosen you" … (1 Thessalonians 1:4)

11.Wonderfully made! "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well" (Psalm 139:14)

How about we start seeing ourselves in light of the labels that our Creator has given us, the only one who really has any right to label us at all? So, what have you been calling yourself or believing that others are calling you that you're gonna give up today? I'd love to pray with you as you work to believe His words.

A different kind of anniversary

It's been two years today since this happened. Two years of healing, of talking, of growing. Most importantly, it's been two years of watching life come back into our son. It didn't happen overnight. It didn't happen without hard work, tears, wrestling fears, and lots of prayer. It happened though, and for this healing I am eternally grateful. My son is not alone in this fight. Millions of others suffer depression, yet they never take the step to ask for help. Many give up completely and follow through with a suicide plan. It's hard for me to even write those words, knowing the reality for so many other parents is not as beautiful as ours.

I don't post this for pity or attention. I post this so that others know they are not alone. Bryan has said he is fine with letting people know if it encourages even one to seek help, to speak out. I'm so proud of him. I'm so thankful for his life. I'm so humbled to have been chosen as his mom.

This is a fight that our world must keep fighting. As followers of Christ, we must bring to light the reality of depression and its effects. If you need help, please don't wait too late. If you think your child needs help, please talk to them. You might be surprised at how much they tell you simply because you asked.

Here is our story, as told one year ago today:

One year ago today, I sat in this very chair that I now sit typing. Across from me was our son Bryan. It was a rather typical Tuesday afternoon, and we were going through the day's homeschooling assignments. I asked a simple question while I looked over his workbook, but he never answered me. I looked up to find tears running down his cheeks and a look of defeat on his face. As I reached across the table to touch his hands that were shaking, he said "I cannot do this anymore".

Those words changed the course of not only that day, but the whole year that followed. What I heard next pierced deep into my heart. My son looked down, unable to make eye contact and said, "I want to die. I want to kill myself mom. I'm not safe."

If you've never heard those words from your child or a loved one, you can't understand how I felt. Jeff got home shortly afterward, and he too heard those words.

We were shaken.

For those who may not know me well, let me explain that I am a psychiatric nurse. I do this stuff for a living. I've heard many people, young and old, utter those same words throughout my career. I've hurt with them, rejoiced in healing, grieved when things didn't get better. But never once had I sat in that spot as the mother of a child who was severely depressed. Bryan had dealt with some mild depression and anxiety issues in the past, but it had never gotten to this point. In fact, he had done so well in the year previously  that he had gone off all of his medication.

Yes, there were "signs". He was not sleeping as well. He was a bit more irritable. He was a little more withdrawn from us and from friends. But really, we had no way of knowing it had gotten this bad. You see, Bryan hadn't wanted us to know it was that bad. He had done a fantastic job of making it look like things were okay. I can't tell you how many times I've thanked God that on that Tuesday last January, he decided that he'd had enough.

Because Bryan not only was voicing suicidal thoughts, but he had a plan for harming himself, we had no choice but to hospitalize him for safety. It was excruciating to leave that hospital that night without him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to offer to stay home with him all the time until he felt safe. But in my heart, I knew that he needed to do this. He needed to go and learn that he had a voice and that he could learn to help himself. I still firmly believe that while it seemed that the hospital stay did little more than provide him safety while his feelings were intense, in all actuality it showed Bryan that when he voiced his feelings, he got help. It's important for people to know that they are heard, and Bryan knew it.

In the year that has followed, I've watched my son overcome. He's overcome depression. He's overcome suicidal thoughts. He's overcome stigma. He's overcome the overwhelming anxiety. He's overcome fear.

Is he perfect? Heck no! (are any of us?) But he has a strength that I had not seen before this year.

Today, I asked him what has been the key for his healing. Typical of Bryan, his first response was "I don't know. I got happy.". But when he answered seriously, he said "I started taking my faith seriously. It's not perfect, but I know I have God.". He also made changes in some of the music he had been listening to prior to this time last year, changing from some really dark and sad stuff to more positive music (Yes, screaming music can still be positive). And he's worked hard to be with people. As an introvert, that's not easy, and I've watched with pride as he has come out of his shell more this year and put himself out there to be in relation with people.

I write this today with his permission. I write this because depression is no respecter of persons. It hits the young and old, rich and poor, white collar and blue collar, fat and thin, athletic and non-athletics. It doesn't care if you're from a family of faith and pray every day; it still creeps in, telling you that you're not good enough, not smart enough, not talented enough, not...... Depression sucks the air from your lungs and leaves you gasping. It sharpens its claws on your heart, ripping it to shreds before you know what hit you. It replaces optimism with fear, unbelief, panic and paralysis. 

Depression kills.

Our family is one of the lucky ones. In my heart, and because of conversations with Bryan throughout this year, I believe that had we not sat down together that afternoon, Bryan wouldn't be here today. I believe that had I not listened that day, this would be a whole different kind of anniversary for us. To say that I celebrate this day is an understatement that I cannot begin to explain. Our family can rejoice even while countless other families stare at an empty chair at their tables tonight.

If you're reading this, and you are experiencing any of the things I've written about, please get help. Call 1-800-783-TALK if you don't have anyone you can talk to. Call your best friend. Call your mom or dad. Go to your spouse. Call your doctor. Call your church and talk to a pastor. Talk to someone. And if you suspect that your child (or spouse or friends of whomever) is suffering, don't stop asking questions and telling them you love them. Because let me assure you that it's worth them being aggravated to let them know you are here. Our family can attest to that, and Bryan will assure you that we've never let him rest in that area.

I've witnessed God's healing in many areas of life. This one is extra special because I've watched as God has breathed life into our son again. And y'all, that is a beautiful thing.

on Petrino, football and what's getting my feathers ruffled...

If you know me at all, you know I love the Louisville Cardinals (really, throw up your "L's" people!). I don't try to hide it. Heck, if you know who I am married to, you know that I'd have no choice really in rooting for the 'Ville, not that I'm arguing. I bleed red; I just do.

If you've been alive at all in the past week and live in the good ol' state of KY, you know that the Cardinals have been all over the media. Word has it, Bobby Petrino is back in town. I won't discuss here one way or the other how I feel about his return. I will say this: his win ratio in his previous stint here left me less than surprised at his return. But that's not what this post is about.

I'm frustrated at the negativity I see about the whole thing. It's become less about football and more about personal attack. I see bravado on both sides of the arguments from Cardinal fans. And good gravy, don't even get me started on the crap I see from those who aren't even fans at all (ahem, UK peeps).

I get it. We love our football. We love our teams. We love red or blue or whatever other color you want to throw in there. We love our mascots. We love our players when they play well. We love our programs when they win. blah to the stinkin' blah.

I've learned a couple of things in the discussion. I've learned the winning record of Petrino in the past. I've learned the names of assistant coaches. I've learned more about people's moral failures than I ever needed to know (I mean, is it really our business!?). But more than anything, in reading blogs, facebook chats and articles, hearing news stories and talking to people around me, I've learned one truth.

People love to keep others down like a dog loves a bone.


I'm not going to discuss how I feel about moral failures in general or among coaches. I'm not going to discuss sanctions against schools or programs or anything else like that. BECAUSE IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW I FEEL.

No matter what the offense, there will always always always, 100% of the time always (did I mention ALWAYS) be those that refuse to let a man get back up. They'll drag what's in the past back to the forefront every single time in order to reopen the wound. Just read anything about Petrino right now if you don't believe me. Some believe he's changed; others are harping on former offenses like a tic on a hairy goat.

I can't stand it anymore. I really don't care what he did or she did or you did. Because quite frankly, I'm too exhausted trying to repent and fix what I did. Give it a rest, people, beacuse you know what? You're not perfect either.

I'm a darn good nurse. Thank goodness that my employer didn't search back to when I was fresh out of nursing school and failed my Boards and made the assumption that I must stink as a professional. Because you know what? I screwed up. But that doesn't mean I'm not a good nurse now.

Let the man do his job. Let the players play. Let the AD be the AD. Let. It. Go.
And if he messes up and repeats the same behaviors on the field and off again, let it go again. (that's not to say, keep him if he does it again. There are consequences for our actions, but I digress) Because guess what? You and I will mess up again too! And again and again and again.

By the way, if you comment on here about your opinion of Petrino, I will delete it beacuse you clearly didn't get the gist of this post.

Go and be peaceful, y'all. Life is too short for this nonsense.
Oh, and GO CARDS. L1C4~