Half Past March- Part II

 I remember the details of that day in vivid color and in foggy memories.  There are parts of the day that I so accurately remember and other parts that are completely blurred.  A few days prior I had been given a dosage of medication through an injection from one doctor while simultaneously starting a new prescription from another.  I had informed both doctors of said medications and each doctor proceeded without any revision to their treatment plans.  Unfortunately, both doctors did not cross reference all contraindicated drugs with the ones they had prescribed.  Turns out I was in fact taking two drugs that are not supposed to be taken concurrently.  As the days crept on, slowly I began to feel less and less like myself.

The day began like any other day.  I woke up and began working on a big paper I had due for one of my classes.  I finished the paper, printed it, and left it stapled on my desk.  It was a warm day and I headed to campus to finish work for my deadline as the graphic design editor of the school newspaper.  When my portions were ready for print, I decided to grab lunch with some friends from the paper. 

As we sat eating lunch, I remember being unable to track and participate in the conversations around me.  My mind was racing and my head continually swiveled around as I watched what seemed like a million students pass by.  Everything was in slow motion yet happening so quickly.  After barely touching any of my food, I excused myself, said goodbye to my friends, and hopped in my car to head to another portion of my college campus. 

I arrived onto a blinding part of campus as the sun’s rays reflected harsh bursts of light off of the huge white-cemented buildings.  I bounded the stairs and don’t remember what happened next.  I suppose I was looking for someone.  Maybe I was walking in circles.  I still wonder what I looked liked.  Was I walking fast, with a purpose?  Or were my steps slow, like I was lost?  The next thing I remember was that I was being stopped by someone, I don’t remember if it was a boy or girl, and they asked if I was okay.  I responded to them blankly, as if I had no idea why they would think I wasn’t okay.  It was then that I touched my face and felt that it was wet.  Was it raining?  Was I sweating?  I reached my hands to my eyes and realized they were tears.  My eyes weren’t watering from the bright sun but I was crying.

I quickly ran back to my car, buckled up, and began to drive.  By now I was sobbing.  The sobs were coming quickly and I couldn’t get them to stop.  My mind was racing and I kept yelling for God.  I believed that He didn’t hear me.  My body was overwhelmed with pain.  Physically, I could no longer take each stab of agony.  Mentally and emotionally, I was tired.  Exhausted to say the least.  For so long, I had kept a happy face, while inside I was screaming.  The physical pain was robbing me from any joy in my path. 

And then there was my heart, completely raw.  I was unable to comprehend why one tidal wave of physical torment was always immediately followed by another.  Spiritually, my heart felt like it had sunk.  I questioned if He cared, if He saw me, and if He knew there was nothing more I could take.  Amidst the sobs and the deafening silence of when I called for Him, I could not hear any of my God’s promises.

I swerved onto the freeway and headed west.  I had no idea where I was driving but I felt that since the world around me was spinning I needed to get away from it as quick as I could.  I grabbed for my phone and dialed my mom for what would be the first of several phone calls with her that day.  When she answered, I immediately began apologizing.  I needed her to know that it was nothing she or my dad had or hadn’t done.  It wasn’t coming to this because of them.  Then as the people pleaser in me could have predicted, I begged for her to not be mad.  I repeated over and over that I wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting and I remember telling her that I was tired.  Too tired to even go on.

I got off the freeway and headed back to my apartment.  I ran into my roommate and best friend back at our place.  I was crying and she knew something was certainly not right.  I tried to reassure that I was okay and that I just needed to be alone.  I grabbed all the prescription bottles in my medicine cabinet, threw them in a bag, changed into some cooler and comfier clothes, and dashed back to my Jeep.

This time I headed east.  Again, unsure of where I was going but trying to escape the feeling of suffocation that was pressing down on me.  I got off at an exit and pulled into a parking lot with a liquor store.  I didn’t have any cash on hand and was afraid if I got a bottle of something they would trace where I had last used my debit card.  The half empty water bottle in my backseat would have to do.

I drove north.  Making as many twists and turns up those mountain roads as I could.  My phone rang the entire time.  People were worried, word had gotten out that I was in a bad place, and everyone was desperately trying to find me.  I cried up those steep mountain roads and in heavy sobs asked God to take away the pain.

I’m not sure where I finally pulled off to the side and stopped my car.  I even wonder if I could navigate back to that place today.  I loaded my favorite worship song into my CD player and set it to repeat.  Text messages of people asking where I was flooded my phone.  I called my mom again.  But, I mostly sat there.  I was in over my head.  So weak and so tired.  The image that played over in over in my head was me, as a little girl, looking up to God, the Father.  With my arms raised I was begging Him to pick me up, to hold me.  And the only response I received was a displeased shake of His head.  He looked at me with disappointment and refused to pick me up.  I thought that He was ignoring me.  And with that lie, which I held as truth, I blindly believed in no other option.

(To be continued...)

Half Past March- Part I

 I was born in December and each year at half past March, I acknowledge another year’s passing.  Evidence on my driver’s license concludes that I’m in my mid to late twenties and this week I will celebrate six years of life.  It was a moment that formed over the course of a decade and each year, in the middle of March, I put one hand in front of the other, and crawl farther and farther away from the wreckage.

Faith requires more than a feeling.  The object of our faith entails complete trust and absolute confidence.  We are certain of our spiritual faith regardless of whether or not we hold in our hands actual evidence or proof.  It’s exhilarating, life changing, and all consuming.  The faith that we possess, as a Christian, is a discipline.  Each day, we decide to trust and exercise our faith in a God that we cannot see.  Faith in Christ births the love, devotion, and obedience that we exemplify in our relationship with our Creator.  Fortunately, God allows us moments where we can feel His presence and situations occur that strike us with the adoration He has for us and our belief grows even more because we are aware of His faithfulness. 

While faith is more than a feeling, there are times when we yearn for just that.  Where we might be able to feel His touch or constantly reside in comfort and peace because we “feel” that He is there.  I would even go as far to say, that His promises are easier to claim as truths when we “feel” Him.  But, feelings don’t always lead to truth and sometimes we build upon a feeling that was a lie to begin with.

I had my tonsils out when I was six and my appendix out when I was eleven.  Broke my back when I was thirteen and received a diagnosis of anorexia and severe depression that same year.  In the fall of my junior year in high school, I was hospitalized for a total of 9 kidney stones wreaking havoc on both of my kidneys.  That year alone I had three surgeries to clear the blockages I kept experiencing in my kidneys and that was the beginning of what would turn into 10 more surgical procedures and a debilitating ache that since hasn’t left. 

My sophomore year in college they discovered another health condition that led me to eleven more operations and not a pain free day in over a decade.  My body seems to have failed me.  The relentless pain stabs at my flesh, day after day, and year after year.  My abdomen looks like a treasure hunt map gone wrong because the incisions point to more than one “x” marks the spot.

While I briefly summarized the bullet points of a harried medical past, the facts don’t immediately point out the severe emotional effects of my constant uphill battle.  More than once I have fallen to my knees, gravel pressing into my bare skin, as the daunting task of the continued climb has paralyzed me.

The promise of the scriptures reads, “We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.” Psalm 33:20.

On one day in particular, I sat hoping.  I cried and prayed and screamed and begged.  The pains outnumbered me.  I lost my grip in His hope, and began to believe, in a feeling, that He wanted nothing to do with me.

To Be Continued…

Cling Away

In this life, most everything is temporary.  It seems as though nothing lasts forever.  In some cases, I can appreciate that things are fleeting.  Take for example the 24-hour flu.  Thank goodness it rarely knocks you flat onto your back for more than one to two days.  I think the flu, at its worst, can lead people to believe that they are actually dying, that their time has come.  I know that when my body has been depleted and there is nothing left but a dreadful case of the dry heaves, I have asked that the Lord just take me now.  Dramatic, I know- but if you're honest with yourself, you've probably been there too.  I am also thankful that winter is only temporary.  Though it comes annually, it also dies down each year when Spring rushes in a breath of fresh air.

In other cases, I struggle with things being temporary.  By nature, I think most of us are hoarders.  I don't mean hoarder in the sense that we have 35 cats-keep every receipt-and there's no room to walk in our homes.  Rather, we tend to cling on to what we love and wish that it would never end.  I feel that way often these days whenever I am around my family or a group of friends.  Since Seattle still doesn't feel like home and we don't have a community here, every time I get to see family or visit with friends every moment is bittersweet for me.  Sweet because I am with the people I love the most and it is such a gift for my spirit.  And bitter because I know it has to end and at some point I will find myself back on a plane headed in a direction away from the ones that I love sharing life with.

Then there's my birthday.  I love my birthday.  It's that one day where I just feel pretty proud of myself for making it through another year.  But, if you know me well, you know that as each hour passes, I begin to get sad because I know with each tick of the clock that my birthday will end and tomorrow will be just an ordinary day.  I recognize that it is silly, yet still it happens.

I love to live in the moment but often times wish the moment would never have to end.  Do you ever feel that way?  Like you want to latch on to all the magnificent things, live life to the full, and then close your eyes and hold your breath in an attempt to not let the time pass and make it last forever.  I'm guilty of it.  I'm a hoarder of the good times and I wish my glory days would never have to end.  Yet, they always do.  It's all temporary, or so it seems and often we are just left with the memories.

I think we yearn for some things to last and beg for certain times to go because we want perfection.  It's as if we want to take elements from different times of our lives and put them into to play so we can make it last forever.  A dream world reality.  Our human selves want to clench onto whatever it is we can and carry it into the next phase, the next season.  If there could always be just one more sip, one last drop, then maybe we would be satisfied.

Perfection isn't attainable.  Believe me, I've tried.  In fact, I'm guilty in striving for perfection almost everyday.  It is a disease.  We can't take it all with us.  Every perfect moment, grand location, and ocean breeze can't be bottled up.  We have to live each moment and let it wash over our backs when it is complete.

Life is temporary.  We are temporary.  The flu will come and go.  Seasons will change and typically holidays last for just a mere 24 hours.  The only thing we have that lasts forever is God's love.

Today's promise: "Though the mountains vanish, my unending love will never leave you." Isaiah 54:10

The earth will give way but His love is unending.  Sickness may come but His love never leaves.  Celebrations will be toasted and His love will be there before, in the midst, and after every last bite.  It does not change.  It is not temporary.  His unending love will never leave.

It does not matter the time or the place.  In happiness and troubles His love is always there.  God's love for us is not circumstantial.  He loves at one intensity and at all times.  Whatever we are going through in life, He constantly loves us with His whole heart.

There is no need to hoard it or worry that it will disappear over time.  Each and every moment is covered in His love.  It is not dangled in front of us as a prize to be one or revoked when we think we are unworthy.  Nothing, nothing at all will allow His unending love to ever leave.  There is always another drop.  Everything around us may change and life will take us places we may wish never existed-but His persistent love remains.  If there is anything you should ever cling to, it is this.  For me, and for you, His dear children, the Lord's unending love will never leave.  I shall cling away to that promise for all of my days.

Brother Peace

I've never really experienced anxiety until this year.  I mean sure, I have been anxious.  I am a worrier by nature.  Since I was a little girl I can remember not being able to sleep at night because I was at emotional unrest.  Elementary aged, side pony-tailed, and worried sick.  My parents always knew when something was up because my stomach always began to ache.  I carried my worry, my anxiety, and my fear in my tummy.  Mom and Dad reassured me time and time again that I had no need to worry and that tomorrow would take care of itself, yet still I worried and I felt anxious.  But, anxiety?  Oh, it is a whole other story.

I had my first anxiety attack just shy of a year ago.  I  just had had unexpected surgery just 3 weeks prior to my wedding and I was feeling too sick to attend a shower being thrown in my honor by my mother's best friends.  I am a master of faking it because most of my life has been spent in some kind of physical pain.  I have developed an innate ability to smile, put on a show, and carry on amidst not feeling well.  But, this day I couldn't do it.  Maybe the to-do list for the wedding was too long and my incisions just too fresh but I couldn't keep calm and carry on.  I tried to talk myself into it. I could do this.  Go to the shower, be the beautiful bride, and be perfectly gracious as everyone expected.  It wasn't happening and I think the wave of anxiety built from there.  It formed, curled, and pushed forward when I discovered that I couldn't do it.  It was one of the few times in my life where I sincerely wasn't able to pull it together.  A coat or two of mascara and blow drying my hair weren't happening.

I remember being scared.  My thoughts were racing and the tears were falling.  Then, I couldn't breathe.  I gasped for the air, trying to inhale anything that I could, but I couldn't.  I felt like I was going crazy.  I knew I was letting people down (my greatest fear) and I knew there was nothing that I could do to change that.  My one time to shine, my wedding season, it was crumbling beneath me and I couldn't even bend down and pick up the pieces.  I barricaded myself in my room at my parent's house and didn't even bother crawling underneath the covers because they felt more suffocating.  And I literally fell apart.  More than one person that day thought I wouldn't walk down the aisle.  I, myself, believed I wasn't good enough to make that march.  My state of indomitable anxiety  lasted for about two days, screaming as it began and tiptoeing backwards as it laid to rest.  It overtook me and left me frightened.  It was nothing like an upset stomach or trouble sleeping at an elementary age.

I found my greatest comfort in those hours from my brother, Todd.  I wasn't able to even form sentences or think of words to pray but my brother did.  He laid beside me and whispered assurances that I wasn't a "crazy" and that it would pass.  He promised it would subside and he stayed until that promise rang true.  I cried in his arms and he empathized with me because he too, has suffered from the crushing waves of anxiety.  My brother is a knight in shining armor to me.  He crawls down with me, reaches me where I am, and doesn't think of leaving until the storm has passed.  He blankets me with words that tell me I am worth it and that I can keep fighting.  In those instances, he literally represents Jesus to me.

It's during those times, when the world isn't just spinning but it's doing cartwheels while intoxicated and your head isn't just pounding but it feels like a pair of shoes in a dryer, when we yearn for the quiet.  To me, the quiet is peace.  It's like a cloud cover of fog that seeps over us and fills in every space with true rest.

I can take a deep breath, close my eyes, and have no fear when I meet peace.  It's almost like a dream and it hovers without even touching the ground.  Its arrival is crucial and it ushers in the quiet without a sound.

That fateful day of my first run-in with anxiety, God brought my brother in as peace.  He used Todd to wrap me in His peace.  It felt like I wasn't going to be able to find it on my own.  And He knew that in advance.  So he called in a Brother of Peace.

God does that a lot.  He shows up in a round about way, when He knows our thrashing ways will make it difficult for us to find Him.  So, He reminds us that He is there in whatever way we'll let Him and He offers us peace.

The promise for today is this: "The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace." Psalm 29:11

A blessing of peace.  Thank you, Lord.  You are my strength and you are my peace.  You know my need for the quiet so you so eloquently offer me strength and draw me aside in your peace.  Amidst the anxiety of life, you bless us with peace.

In case you're wondering, I made it down the aisle post anxiety attack.  Three weeks later I walked down the aisle and stood in a tree covered place and rays of sunlight warmed my skin.  I said, "I do," and to my right, standing beside my husband, was my Brother Peace.  And he was smiling.  And I breathed deep and the Lord made good on His promise of blessing me with peace.

Unfortunately, that wasn't my first and last run-in with anxiety.  It still attacks and hits me in the chest until I'm frightened beyond belief.  But, as I lay afraid I look for His strength and ask for His peace.  And they always show up.  They follow through and I am drawn aside into His quiet peace.  Amen.

The Promise Keeper

It's hard for me when it comes to promises.  I'm afraid when people make them because then I am immediately afraid that they will break them.  I am guilty of having broken promises.  I didn't set out to make those promises so I could break them but it happened no less.  Certainly, we don't make promises with the intentions of not following through, but it happens.  I have also been the victim of empty promises (example here) and I know firsthand the raw pain of when one shatters before your eyes and simultaneously shatters your heart.

As children we become obsessed with the magic that promises hold. Cross your heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye- I promise.  Pinky Promise and with an interlock of two pinkies and a kiss to the hand a promise is formed.  There's this comfort in a promise, an assurance that no matter what- it's going to be okay, for it was promised.

Then as time marches on we are inundated with becoming men and women of our word.  Some men attend conferences titled, "Promise Keepers," where they pinky swear for hours on end until their pores seep promises.  Okay, not really.  But, you get the point.  We want to give promises, we want to keep those promises, and it is a sweet melodious sound in our ears when someone special makes us a promise.

While I want to keep every promise I have spoken, there is one I fully intend on keeping.  I made a promise, a solemn vow, to God and to my husband, that I will love him always.  That I will never forsake him until death do us part.  YIKES!  What a promise!  I know, I know...go big or go home.  And I go BIG.  But that's my promise and one that I committed to on our wedding day and the same one I recommit to each and every morning (and depending on the day, sometimes I have to go back to that promise multiple times).  Promises I made and promises I will keep.

My dad rarely makes promises.  Well, at least with me (if you know him and he's been promising you things, I'd like to know.  Take this as your cue to get in contact with me).  It's not that my dad is a man who doesn't follow through, it's quite the contrary.  He is a man of his word and he makes good when he agrees to something.  But, when I ask my dad for help, to agree on something, do a task, etc I often try and lock it down with one question.  "Promise?"  His response, "I will do everything in my power to make it happen."  What a trickster.  Sly, fella if you ask me.  Truthfully though, he says those words because I believes he knows the feeling when a promise can't be kept.  He knows the pain of when a promise falls to pieces and simultaneously takes pieces of your heart with it.  He has made a few promises to me and I believe that he will always keep them.  Through my physical and emotional pain he has promised that he will always be there.  He has promised to love me no matter what and has promised that if He could he would take all my pain from me.  I get choked up even writing about it because I know that his promises are true and faithful.  I believe this man, this lovely man that is my father, is the closest thing I will ever experience to Christ, here on this Earth.  He is gentle, strong, a comfort, and someone I can always count on.  Yet, I know that one day my promises with him will run out.  He won't intentionally break them, but there will be a day when He won't be able to make good because he won't be here.  That is my biggest fear.  Losing him.  Losing my mom.  Having to say goodbye to my sister or brothers.  But, it will happen.  We are no match for death.  It has the power to extinguish our promises and I often live in fear for the day that it will come.  When Nate and I will have to be apart until we both reach Heaven and for the moment where my dad won't always "physically" be here for me.

With that being said, the time to remind myself of God's promises is now.  It can't wait for later.  I must repeat these promises until they are written on my heart and with each blink of an eye they are renewed.  His promises are everlasting.  For it is written, "nothing can separate us from the love of God." (Romans 8:38-39)

While that is a promise in itself, today's promise is this:

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10

I am with you.  I am your God.  I will strengthen you.  I will help you.  I will uphold you.  I breathe this in and I find sweet relief.  He is with us.  He can help us, strengthen us, and He promises to hold us up.  I prefer to just picture Him holding me.  I am not alone.  No matter how I feel, how far I have fallen in the pit, and when I have misplaced my hope- I am not alone.  He is with me.

There is a Rascal Flatt's song called, "I Won't Let Go."  It's a beautiful song.  It is a song of promises.  The lyrics sing of the promise that no matter what, "I won't let go."  It's a beautiful song to dedicate to your lover or to give as a gift to your child.  But right now, I encourage you to close your eyes, listen to the lyrics and hear it as God singing to you His promises in a song.

I Won't Let Go
And I won't let you fall It’s like a storm That cuts a path It’s breaks your will It feels like that You think your lost But your not lost on your own You're not alone I will stand by you I will help you through When you’ve done all you can do If you can’t cope I will dry your eyes I will fight your fight I will hold you tight And I wont let go It hurts my heart To see you cry I know it’s dark This part of life Oh it finds us all And we’re too small To stop the rain Oh but when it rains I will stand by you I will help you through When you’ve done all you can do And you can’t cope I will dry your eyes I will fight your fight I will hold you tight Don’t be afraid to fall I’m right here to catch you I wont let you down
It wont get you down You're gonna make it Yea I know you can make it Cause I will stand by you I will help you through When you’ve done all you can do And you can’t cope And I will dry your eyes I will fight your fight I will hold you tight And I won't let go Oh I’m gonna hold you And I won't let go Wont let you go No I won't

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."  I won't let go.

He is with us.  We are not alone.  He will not let go.  He is the promise keeper.  Cross my heart, pinky promise.  And for today, I will remember this- and keep breathing.  I promise.

Promises, Promises

It's Ash Wednesday and people around the world are beginning their fast for the 40 days between now and when we will celebrate the Resurrection on Easter Sunday.  There have been years where I have chosen to withhold from something in an attempt to experience suffering like Christ endured for me on the cross.  I will admit that while I have succeeded during my Lenten seasons, the suffering I experience is like nothing of the pain I imagine my savior took on for me.  In fact, sometimes I think we try and approach Lent with a double-edged sword.  We want to give something up and in return we want to boast that we had the will-power to see it through.  Or perhaps come Easter morn, we want to don our Sunday best, a few inches thinner because of our ability to give up sweets for forty days.  To me, Lent often falls flat because individuals fail to rely on Christ to see them through their "suffering" or to use it as a time to draw closer to him.  Too often I look around at throngs of people twisting a marked time of spiritual growth into a second round of New Year's resolutions.  This is not to say that I have yet to witness a spiritual transformation during these times.  I have friends and family that I have seen remove afforded luxuries from their lives and have arrived on Easter, closer to Christ and more profoundly aware of the ultimate gift our Savior bled for us.


The 40 days of Lent are a time for us to journey with Jesus into the desert.  Through self-denial, repentance, and prayer we are able to prepare our hearts to hear the message of the greatest sacrifice of all time.  Nate and I have been talking about Lent the past week or so in an attempt to pinpoint what would be appropriate for us to abstain from for such a time as this.  Since neither of us drinks coffee or takes trips to Starbuck's that suggestion immediately flies out the window.  Or perhaps that is our answer and we just appear so well-disciplined to our peers, not even flinching without caffeine for 40 days.  Albeit, that clearly won't work since I just divulged our secret.  Last night, as we sat talking after our devotions we came to the conclusion that we already feel like we are on a journey with Jesus in the desert.  While this year has been such a blessing to us because we have become a family, it has been a year marked with discouragement, loneliness, and depression.

Our move to Seattle has been difficult.  We have yet to connect with people in a way in which we would have hoped.  Being far away from our families and are best friends has left both of us lonely and frustrated.  While God has provided a roof over our heads and food to eat, we feel as if we are barely keeping ourselves afloat financially.  I have found myself in the trenches of depression while dealing with physical pain on a daily basis.  In the past couple of weeks we have discovered that I am in need of yet another surgery and both our spirits feel weak as we come to grips with what that will require emotionally, mentally, physically, and financially.  And while we are only a few states north of what feels like "home," we feel like we are in a foreign land lacking lifelines.

Yesterday, we came across the verse, "Do as you promised...that your name will be great forever," in 1 Chronicles 17:23-24.  It was a beautiful reminder to us that if we pray God's promises we can say with confidence that He will do as promised.  Often times, we ask for things in our prayer life that we are not sure line up with His purpose and plan for our life.  Instead, if we spend time praying for His promises to reign true in our lives, we are sure that they will reveal themselves.

And so that was that.  We claimed as a couple, that for this Lenten season, it will not be about denying ourselves candy, facebook, or lemonade.  For 40 days, we will claim the promises He gives to us from His word.  Each day we will focus on one promise from the scriptures, spend time in prayer asking for it in our lives, and we will journey with Him as He reveals His truths and does as He has promised.

The Lenten season is about taking stock and reflecting on the goodness and selflessness of our Lord.  In a time when much of life feels like a desert, we will claim His promises and we will clothe ourselves in His truths daily.  For we believe, that it is only through His strength, faithfulness, and love that we have made it thus far and will continue on until our completion.

Feel free to check back here as we post the 40 promises, one each day of Lent, that we will cling to during this season and every day after as we all know life can get a bit bumpy.

Blessings and peace to you on your 40 day journey.  Forgive us in advance for rejoicing prematurely in His faithfulness and if we don't show up on Easter Sunday a few pounds lighter.

Chasing Stop Signs

If you know me, you know of my love for greeting cards.  Now I'm not talking grocery store greeting cards.  I am referring to miniature works of art found in boutique paperies.  Cards that you buy and then end up collecting because they are just too beautiful to give away.  Or wait?  Is that just me?  Now when I find a card I love- I buy two.  One to give away and one to put up around the house to inspire me throughout my days.  It's even to the point where I know specific card designers and am up-to-date on when they release new work. 

Anyways, if you know me you also know it's been a dream of mine to have my own company and my own brand of greeting cards.  Well, I need your help!  I have designed cards off and on but now I am getting brave enough to share a few designs.  I need your honest feedback and if you think anyone would buy these silly cards.  Here are two of my recent ideas.