Sometimes a fresh coat of pain does the trick~

(Previously a wine color)

I spent Labor Day weekend laboring.  The dining room and living room are fantastic new colors and have completely changed the feel in my house.

I needed something different.

Even with huge life change right around the corner and a new house in the mix of things, I still needed something to change right now.  Especially since I feel like myself again.  I just came out of a haze that has been the last few weeks, no thanks to the medication I was on, and can breathe. We decided to pause our treatments for a while- even perhaps until after our move to Rochester.  While the last few bits of chemicals were working their way out of my body I reached the epitome of all craziness.  Hysterical sobbing became my nightly ritual and by the third night I knew I wasn't going to swallow that crazy pill ever again.   Ever. 

(Previously yellow walls)

I don't understand why these cysts keep recurring, and my normal tendency is to examine and analyze what they mean- what's God trying to tell me, what do I need to be doing differently- the whole lot.  A friend asked me recently, "Tiffany, are you the type of person that analyzes everything or is a cyst sometimes just a cyst?"


Perhaps it's a literal "bump" in the road?  An opportunity to rest instead of get worked up into the stressful hype that is infertility treatments?  I needed this break- even though I fought against it for the first few weeks.  I was ready to be done with it all, even if Lee wasn't.  For the first time in 10 years we found ourselves in flip-flopped positions.  But it wasn't long into our conversation that Lee spoke some kick-me-in-the-butt truth into my life.

"Tiffany, you've fought too long and too hard to quit now.  This is when it really matters.  Think of it this way-you've spent the last 10 years in training, molding your heart and your body.  Quitting now would be like a marathoner showing up for the race, grabbing his number and then saying, 'Okay- I'm done', without ever actually running.  You can't quit now."

Then a few days ago during a conversation with a friend I was once again infused with some much needed strength. 


Don't you dare quit. 
I'd be mad at you if you did. 
I don't ever see you giving up.....


What I think I've forgotten in the whole process is the importance of being still.  This process is far more difficult than the adoption stuff we did.  At least then my body was stable, my mind wasn't blurred by raging hormones, and my heart, however stretched and strained and sometimes broken, wasn't indecipherable.  The process was certain and confirmed.  I don't have that certainty now and am trying to just REST and let it all reduce like a good wine sauce.  At the end of this I completely intend to feast.



You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you. Matthew 5:3-4 (The Message)