Foster Children

So I know it's been a LONG time since I've written anything, and much has happened in my life. But I will call this blog "Foster Children." Why? Well because my husband and I have decided to do foster care with the option to adopt! Wow I love the way that sounds!! I am so stinking excited I think my heart may explode. We have the room set up already and I stare at it everyday hoping the child will appear before my eyes. :) If only it was that easy. Right? Well I suppose we only have about four or five more months to go and then wham, our lives will be transformed! But truly we are very excited to have the opportunity to love on children for however long the Lord allows and show them that they can live a life that is pleasing to God. So as we go through this process, I will try to keep everyone updated and aware of what's going on. Please be in prayer for us, as we WILL need it. So until next time....

Family

Mom, Uncle Harry, Aunt Judy, Aunt Wendy

Belford Siblings

Family

I have a big family. It's a mix of loud, loving, caring, nurturing, funny, musical, and overbearing group of people! My dad is Italian. Need I say more? I love that part of my heritage. I am one proud Italian. I am your typical, don't know how to talk without my hands, big mouth, Italian. My mother is German and Welsh and some other things. Basically a mutt. But in a good way. That side of the family is also loud. I mean, really loud! In fact, when Jeff and I were getting married he asked me at our rehearsal dinner why everyone was yelling at each other. What could they always be angry about? I had to explain to him that they aren't angry, well okay, some of them are, but the majority aren't, and that is just how we communicate. We fight for talking space. It's really ridiculous. and at times, overwhelming. I told him he was lucky this wasn't a group from my fathers side, as we would have to make sure no one had anything in their hands while talking or there might be some trips to the ER. You see, Jeff comes from a quiet house. QUIET!!!! I mean, like when I go to his parents home, they all look at me like I'm from another planet. Well, I just might be. Some do think that way of New Jersey. Yes, that is where I was born. New Jersey. Edison to be exact. Middlesex Township. John F. Kennedy Memorial Hospital. September 23, 1979. 6lbs 5ozs. Did you want all that info? Oh well. I'm into detail. :) Anyway, my family is from New Jersey. Except for my siblings they were born in California. And, I'm the only girl on my dad's side of the family in approximately 85 yrs or more. Oh yeah, I hold a very special title. Anyway, our family had a reunion this past June. Well, what was left of the family anyway. And since my parents are no longer together it was really just my mothers side of the family. Which is fine by me. The only person that I talk to on my dads side is my dad. Whom I love and adore! I am truly a daddy's girl. My dad's dad was my hero. I was very very close to my grandfather. All the way up until the day he passed. He will forever be missed. But back to the reunion. I did something I've never done before, I surprised everyone. They all thought that I wasn't going to come. SURPRISE!!! My mom peed her pants. Oopps. Not surprising there though. Family joke. I am glad I got to go, but I am also glad I was only there for two days. It takes it out of you, all that noise and hollering, and fighting for your time to talk. This trip, I laid low, I observed more than spoke. Lets just say, it was interesting. I have a very talented family. Both sides actually. One thing that I grew up with was music. My mom has two sisters and a brother. They have always sang in four part harmony. It's really awesome. I was blessed to have the gift of singing and playing the guitar. So music is a huge part of my life. We'll just break out in song at any moment. It's great. That has to be my most favorite time of the gatherings. And usually everyone else's favorite too. I've often wondered what kind of family Jeff and I will have. Will it be quiet or loud. I'm shooting for in between. There are definitely things that I want to take from my mothers side and incorporate them into my own family and definitely things I want from my fathers side. The Italian heritage is so full of love. And that is what I want in my own family. I can't wait to see my children wave their little hands in the air while they talk, have those expressive eyes, and caring and giving hearts. And I want them to know that music comes from your soul. It's how you feel. It can calm you when life seems to be sweeping the rug out from under you. There are MANY things I will do differently, but there are many that I will continue on. I don't know what your family is like, but if you ever need a good laugh, take a look at mine, or really just sit back and listen if you get the opportunity, it will boggle your mind! I've put a few pictures up from my trip. I hope you enjoy them. And even though I have a crazy family, I do love them and thought I would share them with you.

Me and Amanda(half-sister)

Jessica(cousin), Amanda, Marisa

Dad, Me and CJ(dad's sweet fiance)

Amanda, Mom, Me, Jessica, Aunt Judy, Aunt Wendy

Mom and I

Doug(brother),Me

The Cousins(Me, Grant, Joey(step brother), Jessica, Doug)

Daniel(nephew, Doug's son), Me

My daddy and Me

Jobs

So here's the thing, my husband has been going after this job with a dealership that is brand new for months. He has been in on and off contact with the GM and was always wondering what was going on with the company. After feeling pretty much like all hope was gone with them, he realized he missed a call on his cell Monday. It was the GM, calling to talk to him! So they played phone tag, Jeff won, and he was to meet with this guy Tues at 3:00pm. Awesome!!! Right? Well, there I was sitting at home, and was thinking to myself, what in the world could be taking so long? It was 5:00pm and I hadn't heard anything from him. 6:00pm rolls around and by now I'm a little hesitant, should I call him? Should I continue to wait? What if something happened to him on the way home? You know, the normal wife worries. Well at 6:15pm he calls. I was so relieved he wasn't dead. He was like, "Babe, I'm SO sorry, I was here playing on the system trying to get used to it and lost track of time. Please forgive me, I'm on my way home." Wait, hold the phone. Did he say, "get used to the system?" He then proceeded to tell me that this GM hired him on the spot wanted him to start right away and if he wanted to check out the system to have at it! What!!?? It was so comical that when he got home, he was like a deer in headlights. He was so shocked he didn't know what to think. Plus he didn't know what I was going to think. So the next day he quit his previous job and started at the new one. Life is funny sometimes. When you least expect it, God throws you a curve ball and if your not paying attention, you'll strike out, but in this case Jeff's eyes were on the ball and he hit a home run! I'm so proud of him and all of his accomplishments. This is a big step of faith, since it's a new dealership. But I am proud of his faith and trust in the Lord to make a step knowing that God will not let him fail. Please be in prayer for him as he begins this new adventure. And pray for me that I would not be selfish for his time with me, as he will have to put in more hours in the beginning to get this business off and running. I'm putting my running shoes on!

The E Word

The E word....EXERCISE. Be careful who you say it around. It's a foul word to most and to little its their every other word. We have here in Lakeland Hills a hill. We like to call it the, "Hill of Hell." Now this isn't just a hill. This is a mile long 10% grade incline that has some curves that sits alongside the main road to our town. Lots of people walk that hill. Some run. Some ride there bikes. And, yes, some do deep lunges all the way up it. I crawl on all four, foaming at the mouth, begging for water or someone crazy enough to pick up the wounded, all the way up that hill. It's a most disturbing site. I've decided that doing this will ultimately help me in the long run. I'm not sure how, but they tell me it will. So being me, I believe them. Stupidity is what it probably is. But none the less, I do it. And the best part is, I drag someone along for the show each time. Isn't that nice of me? I thought so. I can only imagine what the passersby in there air conditioned soft luxury vehicles must say as they pass me by. I know, I've said it to others. When, okay, if, you make it to the top, you feel....like you need to puke. Not all the time, but the majority. Other times you feel like Rocky Balboa, throwing your fists up in the air as though you have conquered the best thing ever. Then you realize you have to finish walking the rest of the way home. That's when my legs decide to fall asleep. Really. They do. I have to coax them into going home, let them know there is a shower and bed waiting for them. That there is a strong man at home; who was smart enough to stay behind; willing to rub out there every ache. They acknowledge my request with a thundering shake, that seems to last until I walk through the door to my home, that for some reason feels like a sauna. Clothes at that point seem like sin. And water seems like gold.
Talking on the hill is prohibited. Unless your me. It makes the climb much more unbearable. And yet we still do it! What is wrong with the human race! Well I am Italian, we love to talk, we love to eat. Which means we must love that hill! Curse my ancestry!
Anyway, I'm walking this hill in hopes that someday the "E" word doesn't seem so foul to me in the future. If ever you want a good show, just drive on by, you'll get one. But know this, those of us who walk it don't have a clear mind, so if you choose to say something to us, make it sweet. Or else!

God and Boxes

Do you put God in a box? Is your box folded closed? Is it lazily flung open? Is it taped tightly shut? Or are all sides folded all the way open? How big is your box?
These are questions I ask myself daily. How much room do I want to give God. I find my box lazily flung open 99% of the time. And at times it's taped shut. Why? I know why. I just hate the answer. Having it taped shut means I want to do things my way. Well, I've seen how that works out for me and it stinks! I find myself thrashing around fighting the very things that God wants to take care of for me. He wants to! Hello Marisa! Give it up! But I am such a control freak sometimes. Well the good news is that it's not all the time. That box of mine that is 99% of the time lazily flung open can at times seem so small and at times feels so big that even the biggest trial seems small. Those are the good days. I believe that I have this box for everything in my life. But the most important is God. And yet this box still exists. He doesn't want to be put in a box, He wants free range of my life. Free range; sounds like chickens who don't get fed the good stuff. Well, we are getting the good stuff when we give him the ability to do so. I think sometimes the world has the good stuff and yet all that stuff, well its just, stuff. God has the meat and potatoes I need. I realize that. And yet my box for Him seems to always get in the way. N.O.T.W. I know what your thinking. What the heck does that mean? Not Of This World. There's a company that makes things with this logo on it. It's pretty cool. I saw it the other day. Thought to myself, "hey that's pretty smart" and then realized that I at times have one foot in and one foot out. Eeekkk! But hey, I realized it! That's the first start to recovery right? Well at those times, that's when my box is taped shut. I'm thankful that those times are very few and far between. But I want to have a box that all sides are taped tightly open. Well, actually, no box at all would be great! I'm a work in progress. And the good news is, that's okay. God doesn't expect me to get it right away. In fact, He wants me to take baby steps. Well that's great, cause I'm short, and these legs only go so fast. Be encouraged by this. Your never expected to be 100% in Gods eyes. He knows that's impossible. Keep your box open, better yet, take it completely away. I dare you.

Marriage

Have you ever dreamed of what a perfect marriage looks like? Me too! Well I have come to the conclusion that I do not have a perfect marriage, I have the perfect ability to make him mad, make him sad, make him laugh and make him feel loved all at the same time. Man I'm talented! I've had the amazing gift of getting the same man to propose to me not just once, but TWICE! Yes ladies, that's right, twice. And both times, it happened in a parking lot. Oye! When I was young I would sit on the sidewalk and watch happy couples walk by hand in hand and you could almost taste the love that radiated off of them as they passed by. I wanted that, oh boy did I want that. At nineteen I was going to get my chance at real love and marriage. Cold feet is what they call it, yet, that's not what I had, it was a slap in the face by none other than God Himself. Talk about a wake up call. The last thing you want to tell the man who took the time to take you to dinner, sweat like he walked a five mile marathon then get down on one knee, yes in the parking lot, and profess his love to you, was that you were not in fact going to marry him after all. It makes you feel like your committing a crime. But I had to, I knew I was not to enter into a marriage if there were so many things that had to be taken care of first. Like growing up! So two and a half years later, that same man came back into my life. What??!! Can two and a half years grow you enough to try it again? NOPE! But hey, what can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. I knew this time that God had prepared me for this man in that time apart and He was gracious enough to give me a second try. What does he have with parking lots? Nerves I think. Bless his heart. We tied the knot, so they call it, that fall. Honeymoon? Not even a little. It was wedding vows then back to work the next day. It has taken me seven years to realize how to be the wife that I am called to be. One that lifts up, not drags down. One that loves, not fights. One that has him doubled over in the hardest laughing fit rather than doubled over in tears and pain from horrible words. One that speaks Gods truth instead of what the world believes. One that loves it when he does stupid man things because, well, he's a man! To not expect him to cater to my every need. To be happy that he folded the laundry, not irritated that it wasn't folded the way I do it, he did it for crying out loud! I have finally come to a place in my marriage that gives me hope for the future. That makes me excited about making huge life changes knowing that I get to do it with the man that I love. The man that God gave me. So every time I feel like I'm going to lose it, I'm going to speak these truths to myself and remember that life could be so much more boring without this man in my life.

thoughts...

Nine months go by, and you find yourself being told to push, and before you know it, something soft and pillowy is laid upon your chest for inspection. You hear, "It's a girl" and the room seems to be taking your breath away at the realization that you are now responsible for this tiny "girl" whom now you must name. A name that she will have for the rest of her existence. A name that will ultimately mark what kind of person she will be. She is perfect in your image, even after the trauma of birth, and although you usually have many words on your tongue, there seems to be a lack of brain function as you soak in what just took place. All your life you have waited for this moment and it is now here. All you hear is her, a sweet lullaby of cries, ones you've waited to hear for what seems like a millennium. Just as you feel yourself coming to, the cry seems to distance it self further and further away from where you lay. You wonder where she has gone. Why can't I hear her, where is everyone, where am I? Everything seems to have gone gray. Your breathing seems to be picking up as you feel terror in the deepest part of your stomach. My dreams, wants, hopes, desires, where did they go, who took them, what have I done? Water, no not water; tears, my tears.
Then you realize you are in your bed, drenched in your sorrow of reality. It's been years since you have been trying to conceive, and still the closest that you get to it is a dream. You hate sleep for the simple fact that it is nothing but falling into dreams. Dreams that seem to be everyone else's but your own. You lie there, catch what breath you have left and drag your hurt and beaten body out of the place that only causes you pain, bed. This is reality, this is your life.