Today, my husband and I have been married 10 years!

It is a remarriage for both of us. Despite both of us having been burned by unfaithful spouses, we trusted again, and took the plunge.

There is a 67% divorce rate in second marriages. A staggering 74% divorce rate in third marriages!

How did we do it?

When we married, our now combined kids were 10, 11, 12, 16, and 22.

It’s hard. Hard. Hard! Being a stepparent is the most thankless job on the planet!

I took some time to put together a list for our blended family Sunday school class.

Today, as we celebrate the milestone of a decade of remarriage, I share the list, in hope that it will help others.

1. God – first, last, always. God first in my life, my husbands life, our married life. It’s absolutely key!

2. Marriage second. Above the kids. Counterintuitive but ESSENTIAL. The kids need to see that God is first and the marriage is the priority.

3. Keep the D word out of your vocabulary. It’s not an option. Do not toy with this. You have to be fully committed – intentionally, in word and deed. Leave the D word in the trash heap.

4. Date. Set aside a date night- ideally go do something together at least once a week. No less than twice a month.

5. When you get home from work, greet your spouse first. Spend a couple of minutes connecting.

6. Your room is your space. The kids knock before entering. They need to understand that this is your area – the rest of the house is family area.

7. The birth parent is the discipliner of their children. Resentment will arise otherwise. Parents can discuss the kids behind closed doors and decide together the discipline, but the bio parent needs to administer discipline.

8. Don’t argue in front of the kids. Keep it out of their view and ears.

9. It takes time to cook a stepfamily. Don’t give up! The fruit may be a long time coming.

10. Be your spouses cheerleader. Don’t take the kids side. Always lift up your spouse.

11. Be a united front!! The kids WILL try and divide you. You must endeavor to lock arms and stand together.

12. Pray together. This is a secret weapon that will knit you together.

13. Keep learning. Read. Go to seminars. Classes. You need as much support as you can get.

14. Hang out with other blended families. Have friends in the same situation. No one can or will understand – so talk to someone who does.

15. It’s okay to say you need help. Counseling is always a great option, either individual or couples.

16. Take a weekend once a year to be alone and reconnect.

17. Someone has to be the adult. The kids need stability. Keep things as stable as possible in your home.

18. Kids need to be kids. Let them be kids at your house.

19. Celebrate the success – anniversaries!

20. See #1.

Every once in a while, you get some perspective on your life.

I’ve been reading everything I can about type 1 diabetes. I was just diagnosed in August of last year – I was incorrectly diagnosed type 2 seven years ago, but that’s a story for another blog.

One of the fascinating and horrible things I’ve found is the history of treatments in the lives of diabetics who had the disease decades ago.

We’ve come a long way, baby.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s a crappy disease. Every day I have to carefully manage everything I eat and drink. No- strike that – I CHOOSE to carefully manage what I eat and drink. I choose to exercise. I choose to be as informed as possible, because I certainly didn’t choose this diagnosis!

Oh, but what a time to be alive and insulin dependent!

Disclaimer: this is just an enthusiastic nerd post, not a paid endorsement.

Right now I have a filament inserted just under the skin of my abdomen, attached to a blue tooth transmitter. This small, barely discernible bump on my abdomen is called a Dexcom. It’s a CGM – a continuous glucose monitor. Instead of having to poke my fingers dozens of times a day, I just glance down at my Apple Watch, and I know my blood sugar. If I start feeling kind of funny, one look at my phone will let me know if my blood sugar is trending up or down.

Miraculous!!

I run, go swimming, sleep…and always know my blood sugar. It’s ridiculous!! I’ve gone from manually checking my blood sugar a minimum of 6-10 times a day (that’s 6-10 finger sticks a day), to 2-3 tines a day. Two of those are for calibration purposes.

My husband and my daughter can watch my blood sugars, too – and they do. It gives me peace of mind knowing my back up has two back ups!!

If my blood sugar goes too high or too low, my Dexcom will alert me with an alarm and a vibration on the monitor and phone. My loved ones are also alerted. On more than one occasion, my husband has awakened me, food in hand, to let me know my blood sugar is low, and I slept through the alarm.

This is a great way to monitor, and to some extent control, your blood sugars. It’s not preventative medicine, but it darn well is near to it. It has revolutionized my diabetic life.

I know not everyone is able to use this technology – but if you can, do it!!!

It makes this disease a lot less crappy to deal with.

I’ve worked as an RN in labor and deliver for over 18 years.

There are stages of labor, and each one is marked by physiological changes.

When a woman is laboring without anesthesia, the time in the labor process that is the most intense is called transition.

Each birth is different, and transition is different for each mom. The one characteristic that seems to be universal is that when transition arrives, it gets real…really fast.

Labor that has previously been breathed through, walked through, hummed through, and managed, now takes on intensity as the body prepares for the next phase – pushing. Many strong laboring women will doubt themselves during transition. Hundreds of times, as I discussed labor plans in advance with a family who had decided they didn’t want any narcotic medications or epidurals, I had to look mama in the eye and say to them – there is going to come a time where you are going to want to quit. You will beg me for medicine. I can get you through this, but you need to understand that this is coming.

I would then talk to them about transition.

Most women would get through transition as they planned, with their partner at their side, supporting them, cheering them on, encouraging them, keeping them focused. It is a rough, intense, incredible time. I love laboring moms because they are so powerful. It’s is so amazing to watch them as they go through the forces that will soon expel the baby they have longed for.

Transition. Necessary. But painful. Intense.

I’m in transition right now. I have the goal in sight. I have the support of my husband, who is rock steady as I occasionally look at him in a panic. Although I am moving toward a goal that had been set before me decades ago, it doesn’t make it any less scary, and painful, as I move closer to the goal. Part of me wants to go back, even as I know there is no going back.

My focus is on getting through this transition. Breathing through the pain, the fear, the anxiety.

The reward will be walking into the will of God, letting go of my fears, trusting God completely. At last!

Every transition has its reward.

Stay tuned.

I live in the Deep South. Not by choice, trust me. My family, for some reason not logical to me, settled here over 20 years ago. It may have to do with my deeply southern, Alabama born and raised Mama. While I love her food and the polite genteel southern culture, I do not like living here.

I say “summah” because it is already so hot, you cannot help but drawl when you speak. My northern Midwest twang still rises up occasionally, and I speak very fast – the remnants of my years in more northern climes. I have adapted into occasional drawls, though, to blend in with the y’alls that sprinkle my speech.

It’s 95 degrees in the shade today, y’all-and it sure feels like summah.

You better have a screen for your car windshield, or you will be panting for 15 minutes while you sweat through your church clothes, waiting for the car to blast AC through the oven-hot temperatures.

Humidity is so thick right now that you are coated with moisture on every inch of exposed skin the moment you walk outside.

Cockroaches are boldly running around everywhere – and, boys and girls, these are the huge pests colloquially known as “palmetto bugs”, which is southern for flying cockroaches. A nightmare come true.

Then there are the “no see-ums”, invisible tiny pests that bite without your knowledge as you innocently sit on your porch, leaving large angry whelps on your arms and legs. If you dodge them, don’t worry – there are plenty of mosquitoes to continue the attack.

Did I tell you about the gnats? You can just be walking your dog down the street, trying to breathe in the thick fetid air, and suddenly you are engulfed in a cloud of tiny insects, who quickly work to stick to your sweaty neck and face. You open your mouth at your own peril.

You’ll need to take a shower just to recover from a short walk outside.

There are those who say you get used to the humidity. People like my Mama, who grew up in the Deep South and didn’t have such luxuries as air conditioning. My dear Mama, who keeps her condo so warm I need a fan and a glass of cold tea just to be comfortable.

Summah. Twenty years in, I still cannot handle the humidity. The bugs. The sudden torrential storms.

It’s never been my favorite season, but down here in the Deep South, it’s downright unbearable.

What is your dream as a parent? What are your dreams for your children?

Success? Riches? Fame?

None of the above.

I raised my children as a single parent for most of their formative years. My goal was for them to be Christ followers -that I would somehow manage, despite my imperfect life and multitude of flaws, to point them to Christ. That they would each decide to serve Him.

In putting Christ first in their life, seeing things through His eyes, they would be compassionate people. Caring. Servant leaders.

Bottom line, I wanted to raise good people.

Selfless, not selfish. Other-centered, not self centered.

Outside of faith in God and being daily disciples, I don’t know how this is possible.

Only God can get our eyes off ourselves. Only God can heal the deep wounds that happened in a less than ideal childhood.

Only God.

Ahh, the beginning of a new month. A new day!

Every day is a chance to start anew, and this month is going to mark the beginning of a new journey. Stay tuned, as the old TV shows would say.

Today also marks the beginning of the Atlantic Hurricane season.

Being prepared is the key – having a plan on where you will go if you need to evacuate, making sure you have supplies to see you through at home if you lose power,etc.

Storms will always come and go in our lives. Someone once said you are either entering a storm, in the middle of a storm, or coming out of a storm.

I’m coming out, and the sky is clearing already.  My future is shining on the horizon, and I am pushing aside the debris.  I’m picking up the pieces, and putting things in order.  Preparation is key, so I’m going to begin again today.

Having a positive outlook. Making healthy choices. Moving toward my new goal, step by step.

Welcome, June!

When I was a child, I was very creative. I thrived in environments where I could express myself. As a young girl with ADD, I would fashion worlds in my mind, going back to each fictional location as an escape from my school, my home…my life.

In adolescence, my imagination expressed itself artistically as well. Through painting, sketching, and ceramics, I worked out my thoughts visually. Many pieces were award winning, much to my surprise – I was shocked to be recognized for my intrinsic love of creativity.

High school was a flourishing of many things – writing, art, music, acting. Art was the defining characteristic most people associated me with.

I was thrilled to win state and national recognition, and be published in a book and national publications at age 16. My soul was content.

Then – life.

My passion for the arts and writing was raging still, but there were bills to pay, and mouths to feed.

I became a registered nurse. I spent over 20 years in labor and delivery and critical care. I loved my job, and poured myself into it.

When I grew up, I wanted to be a writer. An artist.

I grew up.

It’s time.

I’m excited to see what happens next…

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton