The shortest woman in the congregation approached me after services.  Her shock of blonde hair knotted on top of her head was the only indication she was making a move through the crowd.  Bounding over chairs as the rest of the large congregation waited patiently to file out of the auditorium, she made a beeline directly towards me.  I was waiting patiently for my row to file out when she approached with her blonde topknot and wide smile to make her introduction.  “I hope you’re open to things like this,” she said.  “I am being given a message from your angels.  Would you like to hear what they have to say?”  Proudly being a new-agey Californian, I replied curiously, “Of course.”

“Well, I just feel like you’re supposed to be up on that podium,” she said.  “Your have a story to tell and we’re supposed to hear it.  You’ve been gifted with an experience that will help to heal people.  It will help so many.  I don’t know exactly what your story is, but I just feel like you’re supposed to tell it.  Does that make any sense to you?”  I couldn’t speak, but my subconscious was nodding furiously.  “Yes, ma’am.  That does make sense.  Thank you for telling me.” 

With that, she gave me a hug and stepped away.  The congregation had dispersed, but I stood there for a moment with the realization of what had just happened hanging heavily overhead.  I knew exactly the story that I was supposed to tell, but it was not something I felt others would be receptive to hearing.  Perplexed, I exited the auditorium and made my way towards my car.  I wondered to myself, “God, is that you?  Do you seriously do things like that now?”  My mother would tell me to beware of false prophets, but I had to wonder, “Of all the people at the 11am service – why did that sweet woman pick me?”  

And, so, with that - a tiny seed was planted. This nudge I needed from the universe to get back to writing and sharing on this little blog of mine was squarely delivered months ago, but I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I certainly have been gifted with a diverse set of experiences and a deep longing to share those stories in a search for meaning.  If they'll help to heal others the way this sweet, little blonde messenger said, then: Amen.

With the fresh calendar page of January 2017 quickly filling up, much has been on my heart and mind.  I want to know that I'm living a life with purpose and meaning packed in between all of the flurry of activities. I've been searching my heart and my mind for what that purpose could be for years now.  Could it really be as simple as sharing my stories?

I drove myself to the beach tonight just in time for sunset.  I sat looking out at the cotton candy colored clouds as they melted into the horizon and I thought - you can do this, Hillary.  You can try to share, again.  

You see, sharing your personal stories can be scary.  It opens you to a vulnerability that is akin to nakedness - and if that nakedness leads to rejection, then you'd better have a pretty thick skin or some broad / sloped shoulders so you can brush it off.  

I can't claim to have either of those - but, what I do have is a heart that longs for connection.  And, if experience has told me anything - you aren't going to find that connection or that meaning in isolation.

So, here's to sharing our stories and opening ourselves to new connections, healing transformations and miraculous discoveries.  

I've been a little frazzled the past week or so - I hope I don't ever have to go so long between posting here, again. I know that having a successful blog requires regular posts about topics that go along a similar thread - so I'm hoping that I'll get that "thread" figured out sooner, rather than later. For now, what I seek to do with this web-site is to encourage. If that doesn't come across in some of the ramblings, I hope you'll remind me. But, sometimes encouragement comes from knowing that someone shares in a similar struggle as yourself. So, my writings may not all be sunshine and roses - but, I do hope that they remind you that you are not alone. And, beneath all of the different experiences we have - love can usually be found at the heart of it all. Love & Encouragement - that's what you'll find here. Oh, and some random acts of Hillary-ness. Like "Recess" - My experiment with recess for the past week or so has been a raging success! In fact, I've taken a few photos, and really plan to devote an entire post to sharing with you about my recesses, this past week - so more to come on that - but, seiously...ya'll better schedule some recess time on your calendar, right now - TODAY. I'm serious. It's that important. You'll also find me writing, from time to time, about my soul-searching that I tend to do. I like to read the bible - and I like to search my soul - always seeking to re-connect / commune with God. I like to feel like what I'm doing is in alignment with Him. Reading the bible, first thing in the morning - with a hot cup of tea or coffee - and the sunshine coming through the windows in my living room - that is the ideal way to begin every day. Usually, I'll just crack open my bible and read a bit - then write what I'm thinking / praying about in my journal. Sometimes, I'll have a book that I'll read along with my bible as a reference. Like, for Christmas, my Momma got me the Joyce Meyer's "100 Ways to Simplify Your Life" and I'll read a Chapter each morning - then look up the cooresponding verses in my bible - and spend a little time reading & thinking on them. This sort of resets my brain, calms my mind, and helps me to go into the day reminded of who I truly am - and who I truly belong to. It refreshes my faith - and drives away my fears. It's an excellent way to begin the day - in God's Word. Anyway, Stephanie encouraged me to check out this weekly bible study she's doing at Pine Forest Baptist Church on the book of Esther. It's a Beth Moore study series called "Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman" - and I went last week with four of my favorite women on this planet : Stephanie, Lauren, Ashley, and Elliott's Mom, Linda. We had such a great time - and I've really been enjoying reading and studying this book, so far. I wanted to share the trailer for the series with you, below. Hope you enjoy it. I'll post some recess stuff, next. :) And, I'll try to get more regular on the postings, too, guys. Thanks for reading, Hill

To all my Oklahoma Friends -
If you live anywhere near campus - you should go to the Post Secret Event there on Wednesday. I SO wish I could go...I've been crusing the site for a year or so - every Sunday - and they never have an event near me!

PostSecret Events in December
University Oklahoma, OK
(Open to the Public)
12-3-08
www.postsecret.blogspot.com


If you haven't already heard of Post Secret, it is a fascinating social experiment that this guy name Frank started a few years ago. Essentially, he encourages people to send in their secrets on the back of a postcard, anonymously. He then publishes them on the web, every Sunday. Some of them make it into books, which he publishes every once in a while. I haven't bought myself a book, yet...but, I will someday!

Below, I'll post a few to show you what I mean. Warning: This stuff is addictive, and cathartic, sometimes disturbing, but almost always revealing.

Love you all,
Hill

"Since every death diminishes us a little, we grieve - not so much for the death as for ourselves" - Lynn Caine

Every death does diminish us a little - taking away a portion of our heart, only to replace it with an aching void. It is this newly created space that seems to devour any happiness or joy I might encounter. Because as soon as I figure out that I'm partially enjoying myself, I am reminded that perhaps this moment could have been that much sweeter - if only "they" could be here with us.

Yesterday, at 3:55pm, my Grandma Ludie took her last and final breath.

And, I understand that to grieve is the most indulgent of self indulgent acts. It is the darkest pit of self-absorbed, self-pity. 

But, please-just indulge me. Let me be the first to admit: I am consumed with this loss.

I am so completely exhausted down in this pit of despair, that I can only offer you space to curl up next to me in this darkness. My arms hang limply at my sides, and the half-hearted smile I might have been able to muster earlier in the week, has crawled down my face-creating a frown...a grimace. The beat of my heart will assure you that, yes-I will continue to breathe. Though, my heart feels as if it is stuttering and stammering to keep pumping. 

Lately, it seems that every time I come home to visit, it is to bury someone I love. 

Last night, I cried out until I was sick. Even then, crouched on the ground and emptying my insides - I could not get rid of the sickening loneliness. The realization that death has severed another relationship. Instead, I just clawed at the ground - and shouted out to God.

"God, I know you hear me.

I know you can hear me....

Lord, you can hear me....

You hear me, right?"

*Stiffening Silence*

I know He never forsakes us, but is it possible that he turns his head, at times, just to allow us to learn something on our own? Because, I've never felt so alone or so misunderstood - as I have recently.

I can say I need help. I can say I'm afraid of where my mind is headed - and how it seems to be off the tracks and running - pulling me with it - but for some reason, people seem to shrug it off....

please, please don't shrug me off. 

When I was a little girl, and I'd become overwhelmed with whatever may have been on my mind - I'd go sit on the porch and sing. Usually, my dog Pokie would come and lay his head in my lap - and lick the tears from my face. He seemed to just KNOW that I needed him.

Even Pokie is gone, now.

I've been riding my Mom's bike every day since I've been here. I keep thinking that if I'll just keep moving, I can trick my body into feeling more alive. I still swing by Reed's house - even though I know he won't be there. Just seeing his "Probe Testarosa" in the driveway makes me smile. I love remembering him, always dressed to the nines, pulling into the driveway to whisk Heather away somewhere for the evening. I keep lifting my eyes, waiting for my own version of Reed to pull into the driveway. But, that hope dwindles day-by-day.

Sometimes, I get so exhausted from emotion-that I'll just go to sleep in the middle of the day. Last Saturday was one of those days, and I lay on the couch in my living room, and drifted to sleep. In my dream, Reed came through the back door of my house with a basketball under his arm. He sat down next to me on the ottoman near the couch, as I was still sleeping (in my dream). He pushed the hair away from my face, and he leaned over me and said, "Don't lose your hope, Hillary. Don't you lose your hope." 

"You are going to have everything you need."

Then, he pulled a moving photo out of his pocket, and he said, "I want to show you something." This photo had a small cottage / cabin in the woods, with a spring river running through the back side of the land. He said, "This is going to be your house." 

Then, he said, "You want to know something else? You're going to have your own little boy. You're going to name him 'Robin'-because he'll sing like a bird."

To that, I began to cry. Then, he got up, spinning the basketball on the end of his finger the way he used to do-and he looked over his shoulder outside at the basketball goal. 

On his way out the door, he stopped and he said, "Hillary, your spirit is not broken - it's just the grief you are dealing with." And, he walked on out the door.

When I woke up, the ottoman was still sitting beside me in the same way it was when Reed had sat on it. The sun was shining through the blinds at exactly the same angle, and I felt this warmth-this true belief that it was he who HAD come to visit me. 

How could he have known that I am losing my hope? How could he have known how much I long for a family of my own? How much I desire to belong to a man, and to have that man love me for me? For all the quirks, and strangeness that is bundled up into this mess that I call "me"? 

I think that sometimes God will send us angels so we won't completely lose our hope.

Last night, Heather found me outside crying - I haven't cried in front of any of the family. And, she just sat with me. She just sat and sat so I wouldn't be alone. When she finally broke the silence to ask me what was wrong, I confided in her that I am beginning to lose hope. That all those dreams that I've held in my heart of hearts since I was a little girl, playing with my Barbie and Ken - they are slowly slipping away. That I'm starting to believe that love isn't part of my plan. That perhaps God won't allow me to have a love relationship because it distracts me too much from Him.

And, you know what she said, "Reed used to tell me not to lose my hope, Hillary. He told me to claim this verse: Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you. To give you life and a HOPE.'"

I can't tell you how many times, recently, I've cried out to God to take me, now. To end the heartache and disappointment that I have with myself. In fact, recently, my prayer has changed to one of simply asking God for forgiveness for all the ways I've wrecked my chance at life...and, to just basically ask Him if he'd just ERASE me-as though I never existed. 

I'm searching: 
For the place I belong.
For the sun.
For a reason to keep believing.

In that frame of mind, this speaks the most to me:
"It is neccessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live."
Alexandre Dumas Père

Go hug your mom. Call your grandma. Ask that old friend for forgiveness. If you Love someone... please tell them. They may need to hear that so desperately.
Release it all, because it is all so small in the grand scheme of things.

Until I can write something positive, I don't think I'll be writing again-
Until then, 
Hillary