I’ll start off with what I posted on Facebook for my FB-impaired friends.

“Mission of Hope and I parted ways today. I won’t elaborate why; that would be fair to neither I nor them. Tom hasn’t had a clear answer from God as to his staying or leaving MoH. Parents and siblings: I’ll call you tomorrow to talk privately with you. All of you: I love you and would covet your prayers for peace, comfort, and healing for all involved. Love, Jenness AKA Dory”

So there you have it; you don’t hear from me for a month and I finally update only to tell you that I won’t be around for awhile. I suck.

I’ve just got to take a little time and I’ll be back in a month or so; two tops. I’ve got to figure out where I go from here. I’m freaked out but also very excited to see what God’s got for me next! Will I get a graphic designer position? Should I go back to school for my BA in Graphic Communications or *gasp* maybe even social work? Will I be in something like the shelter, serving people again? Will I encounter another job that’s completely different from anything I’ve encountered before and end up loving it as passionately? The mind boggles. (No, Tom, not bottles. BOGGLES, you circus sideshow freak.)

And bcus I don’t want to be a total Dory Downer… I give you a backstory and a picture and (if you call NOW!!! you’ll get ALL this AAANNNDDD!!! We’ll throw in!!!) a caption!

Backstory: We’re on our way to Virginia to spend two weeks vacation with Tom’s brother Rick and we’re dragging poor Tom’s mom with us to facilitate the family dysfunction. Four hours into the trip, the truck overheated and we sat on the side of the road to let it cool down enough to be able to get back on the road just long enough to take the next exit and buy coolant. We stopped at a farm store to get our jug of family pet killer and by the registers are these bunny wadgets that are totally made of TEH CUTES.

Their names were on the cages.

Tom pointed to this one and said…

(moldy cheese in 3… 2… 1…)

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

15 years ago today, I accepted you as a precious gift from God.

And then I did it AGAIN nine years later. As people love to remind me when you’re doing something goofy and/or obnoxious and/or immature, I chose you TWICE.

I’m richly blessed by having you by my side all these years.

I’m proud of you for all you’ve accomplished.

I’m thankful that we still share a love that makes it necessary to hand out barf bags to innocent bystanders.

We’re a living miracle.

God has shown us to be blessed and highly favored by Him.

I love you, Tom.

I was cleaning out my purse today, and I found a few receipts in the bottom. One of them was from the Friday morning that Dad died, and another was the day after. When I was at HyVee at 12:30am buying pull-ups for Dino and an orange Amp’d for me to take to work later that morning, I would’ve never thought that later that day we would be at the hospital in shock, instead of on our way to Davenport for Tom’s hooding ceremony. Then the day after, I got smokes for me and cigars for Tom and Gatorade for the boys just before we were headed to Mom’s house to circle the wagons around Mom to comfort her and each other.

There’s two pieces of paper down there in the trash that have dates on them, and somewhere in between those two dates on those pieces of paper lies a defining moment in our lives.

Before Dad Died and After Dad Died.

The last few posts you’ve seen from me… *blurgh*

It hasn’t gotten much better.

Lots of stuff going on means less writing and online time. I haven’t looked at my Google reader for about two weeks.

I picked up a part time job doing some graphics work which looks like it’ll average about 15-20 hours a week– in addition to my first 40 hour a week third shift job.

Then Tom’s father passed away very unexpectedly on Friday. Visitation is today and funeral is tomorrow.

I’m not real great at dealing with change, and there’s been a lot of it recently.

I’ll be back, I just don’t know when exactly. As soon as I can.

If you wanted me broken, God, here I am. In front of You and everybody, I am broken. I’ve got the crying hangover and hurt heart to prove it. Now what do You want me to do?