Anne of Green Gables

Today was an absolutely beautiful day on Prince Edward Island. It’s been a long winter and the sun felt so good on my skin. Tom (my wonderful, spontaneous, handsome hubby) suggested we go explore the island. Laundry – tour the island – laundry? You don’t have to ask me twice. The island won. We ended up at the home of Anne of Green Gables. It wasn’t opened but that didn’t stop us. We got to walk around and take pictures. It was so much fun.

Then if I wasn’t in love with Tom enough, we stopped by Frosty Treat and ate some fried clams. Yummy. It was such a glorious day because I got to enjoy this beautiful place we live in and spend time alone with my honey. We talked and held hands. It was so much fun. 

I wondered what made this day so special? I started laundry and there were things I needed to get done today, but the idea of an afternoon with Tom won out. I loved the fact that it was a spur of the moment idea. Tom thought of me and wanted to spend time with me.

Then I had this thought . . . what if God felt like that about me? I sometimes think, I have a busy day today and I don’t have time to fit Him in. I think He likes it too if I’m spontaneous with Him. So the next time I feel His tug, I will just go with it and put the laundry aside until later.

© Nadine Zawacki 2013

The First Time I Heard . . .

I watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother that triggered a pleasant memory. Marshall and Lilly just got married and stopped to get something to eat at a hamburger joint. Through funny sitcom circumstances beyond their control, they didn’t have anything to eat at their fancy wedding. The guy behind the counter said, “Hey dude your wife just barfed in the garbage can.” She had too much champagne. A pleasant smile crossed Marshall’s face.

I know what you’re thinking but no I didn’t vomit after my wedding because I got drunk. Granted I was only nineteen when we got married so technically that sip of champagne I had during the toast was illegal. Shhhh . . . don’t tell anyone.

The pleasant memory it sparked was the first time I heard myself being referred to as Tom’s wife. We were together for over three and half years before we said, “I do.” I was used to being called, “Tom’s girlfriend” and then “Tom’s fiancé.” This was different. This was special. 

On the way to the honeymoon, I needed to make a pit stop. There was no place to stop, so Tom stopped at an office building off the highway. Tom asked the man behind the counter if his wife could use the restroom. When he said the word ‘wife’, something inside of me felt complete. That same smile I had seen on Marshall’s face appeared on mine. It made me almost forget why we stopped in the first place. 

It’s almost thirty-two years and it still doesn’t get old. I love when he introduces me. He adds now that I’m his better half. I disagree with that. He’s my better half. Together we have grown into better people because of the other person. He’s helped me be nicer and I’ve helped him to be funny. 

© Nadine Zawacki 2013

Book Giveaway

A friend of mine wrote an amazing story. Lynda Meyers has a way with the written word. This story is real and gritty. She’s managed to broach difficult subject matters with humor and sensitivity. If you enjoy reading stories that make you think and feel, then you’ll be moved by the tale she spins. It is no surprise that she won the 2012 Next Generation Indie Book Award. The book also received honorable mention at the New York Book Festival and runner up at the Hollywood Book Festival. Below is a short description of Letters From the Ledge.

Still reeling from the suicide of his best friend Tess, seventeen-year old Brendan struggles to overcome addiction and identity issues. Walking the ledge outside his Manhattan apartment has become its own sort of drug, as he stands night after night with his arms outstretched, ready to fly away.

Sarah can see him from her window, and begins journaling about a boy on a ledge. Paige and Nate, a young couple in another building, can see both teens from their fire escape.

None of them know the others are watching, but a strong desire for freedom resides in each of them, and as their lives begin to intertwine, that desire will be tested. Anyone can jump, but not everyone can fly...

The giveaway is simple all you need to do is leave a comment to be entered.  A winner will be picked at random by Feb. 26th. Please note that if you are entering outside of the United States you will be given an electronic e-book or kindle version. Inside the US a signed copy from the author.

Her book is available at Amazon: Click Here

The Kindle version is currently on sale for $1.99: Click Here

Her personal website/blog can be found: Click Here

Lynda has a new book coming out soon called Truly and Finn. I'll let you all know when that's available. Until then a brief synopsis is as follows:

What do you get when you cross and Irishman with an Englishman and add in a little New York sass? A "Truly" great story, that's what!

Truly has her world all lined up and organized - until she meets Finn at a Yankees game. He dumps a coke down her shirt and turns her world upside down. Finn is half Irish, half English, and fully fantastic, but he comes with his own brand of mystery. After all, a guy like that doesn't exist in the real world. Or does he? 

She's not looking for a relationship. He's not looking for trouble. But they seem to have found each other… Two complete books, brought together into one incredible story.

© Nadine Zawacki 2013 

I Stand at the Door

Last night I had a vivid dream. I was in a deep sleep, but I heard someone knocking at my front door. I heard it so clearly that it woke me up. That was the whole dream. I woke up scared that someone was at the door. When I realized I was dreaming, I went back to sleep. When I got up this morning I told my resident dream interpreter what had happened. Tom’s first thought was, Revelation 3:20 - Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.

I pondered that for several hours knowing that God wanted to talk to me. He wanted me to invite Him in. He went to great lengths to get my attention. I then had to be honest with myself – I had shut Him out. My heart grieved. When did this happen?

It happened very slowly over many, many years. It started with a hurt and a disappointment to unanswered prayer. He didn’t answer my prayer the way I thought He should. I started to blame Him without really saying it out loud. Here’s the thing I didn’t have to say it out loud. I said it within my heart and my heart grew harder.

He didn’t shut me out. In my hardness of heart, I didn’t totally lock Him out. He continued to use me to pray for people and minister to them even though I struggled inwardly. I don’t why He continued to allow me to love on people but He did. I just couldn’t love me.

Today is a new day. Today I admitted to myself what I’ve done. I admitted it to Him. He loves me unconditionally. I never realized how much until He knocked so loudly I couldn’t ignore Him anymore.

© Nadine Zawacki 2013

The Making of a Bully

When I was a child I made fun of – often. I was teased because of my nose. The kids would sing the song from the Fruit Loops commercial. In case you’re not familiar with it, it goes something like this; “Follow your nose, wherever it goes.” It made me feel ugly. I never thought I was pretty. Celebrities like Cher and Barbara Streisand were my heroes. They were talented and beautiful to me. They kept their noses and were proud of who they were. I wanted nothing more than to get a nose job. If I was in a crowd as an adult, I would cringe and feel my heart race if the conversation turned to large nosed individuals. This kept up until I was healed in my late twenties.  

I guess being bullied could have made into a very angry or bitter child. Maybe it could have made me hide and develop a shell around me. Instead it made me fight back and turned me into the very thing I hated – a bully.

I’m not proud of that part of my life. I decided to be proactive. I never turned away from a fight. I would fight with all my might. If someone said something to me, I came back at them. I would get into fist fights. I would never back down – ever. I became more outgoing. I became whatever anyone wanted me to – a clown, a confident girl who flirts like I was the most beautiful model in the world. You get the picture. I wrote this next paragraph before, but I thought it fit with this story.

One day when I was 18 years old, I was on a city bus and noticed a girl staring at me. I sat in the back of the bus and right before she was about to get off, she looked at me. She asked, “Do you remember me?” I replied, “No, I’m sorry I don’t.” The next thing she said went through me like a knife, “You used to pick on me and beat me up when we were in grade school.” She then got off the bus. I just wanted to crawl under a rock. I was stunned. I was speechless. When my brain started to work again, I wanted to get off the bus and chase her down and tell her how very sorry I was. I wanted to tell her I’m not the same person. I was ashamed that I couldn’t remember the face of someone I caused such pain. I didn’t have the decency to remember her name. But all I could do was pray and ask God to forgive me. I prayed for her that she would find peace and healing for the hurt I caused.

The making of bully for whatever reason, was not a pretty story. It wasn’t pretty that I was tortured and it certainly wasn’t pretty what I did to my victim. What it’s taught me is that I was what I was because of circumstances of life. It didn’t excuse what I did but I’m grateful God healed me, changed me, and helped me to be more loving.

© Nadine Zawacki 2012

The Stairs

A few years ago I was visiting my brother-in-law in upstate New York. It was a birthday party and I was having a good time. I had to use the restroom and took a step down and something happened to my left knee. I was in a lot of pain. I went to the emergency room and then seen a specialist. It turned out I torn my meniscus. The specialist told me because of my “age,” “weight,” and the fact that I have osteoarthritis; he didn’t feel an operation would help. Nice right. Lucky for him, Jesus took enough of the Brooklyn out of me that he’s still breathing. I walked with a cane for a season. When I did start to lose weight, my knee felt better. But let’s face it, who wants a doctor to tell them the obvious – you’re old and overweight. 

Since that time, I noticed something about myself. Whenever I walk down stairs, I lead with my right foot. I never step down on the left. I’m very cautious and walk down slowly. I was in pain for a long time and I didn’t want that to happen again. I didn’t want to take any chances. I was going to protect my knee at all costs.

It’s been two or three years since this happened, yet I still walk down the stairs with my right foot. I didn’t realize I was doing this until the other day. So I attempted to walk down the stairs leading with my left foot. Funny thing was nothing happened. I didn’t get hurt. It still felt very weird to me. It didn’t feel natural any more to walk that way. I was so used to walking the other way that I didn’t know how to walk down the stairs normally.

I found that when my heart gets hurt by someone, I do the same thing. I protect it at all costs. I start approaching other relationships cautiously. I’m not sure if the new person will end up hurting me as the last person did. It’s unfortunate but my deepest wounds have been from other Christians. Why is that, I wondered? It’s because I let them in the closest. 

I put up protective walls around the organ that was hurt – in this case, my heart. I don’t take chances. But that’s no way to live. I robbed myself of the richness of love that’s out there. Just because someone hurt me, doesn’t mean everyone will. Just because it happened in the church doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go to church anymore. For a while there I walked with a cane. I limited myself. For those you who were around me at that time I apologize. 

Coming to this island has been like a fresh start for me. I realized that I had the walls up and it wasn’t fair to me or to the people of the church. I’ve let the walls come down. It feels good. I feel free. I feel like myself. I’m starting to feel what normal is supposed to be. I’m not walking funny anymore. 

© Nadine Zawacki 2012

Pillow Talk

When Tom and I first got married, we brought into the marriage things from each of our previous homes. One thing he brought was his pillow. A pillow that was perfect. It supported the head just right. Now this was his pillow, so how do I know this? It’s quite simple. It’s a tale that started over 29 years ago. . .

When I got pregnant with our first child, I had trouble sleeping. I couldn’t find a comfortable position or a pillow that would support my head. Tom offered me the use of his pillow (he was both gracious and selfless). It was a magic pillow. It supported my head perfectly. My neck and shoulders were no longer in pain. I slept like a baby.

After I gave birth, I didn’t return the pillow. Tom would ask, mind you, but I told him he gave it to me as a gift for carrying his child. Rubbish, I know but he allowed me to get away with it. If you ask him today he would say “I stole it,” but I would much rather believe that “he gave it to me.” It’s since been a long running joke between us.

Then one day the unthinkable happened. After many, many glorious years of enjoyment the pillow fell apart. It started to break down. It was no longer comfortable. I was so sad. I had that pillow for a crazy amount of years and now it was gone. It was as if my friend left me.

So began the search for the perfect pillow. Trust me I have tried many (if the picture above is any indication). I’ve found that they start off promising but that only lasts a couple of days. I’ve spent way too much time trying to find the perfect pillow that will give me the support I’m looking for to no avail.

I may not have found the perfect pillow but I’m grateful that God has never left me. There are times I’ve tried to substitute Him with what I think is a perfect replacement but that always leaves me wanting. It’s never the right fit for me. I don’t know why I would search. He loves me perfectly. He supports me perfectly. He comforts me and doesn’t break down in time. He is timeless.

© Nadine Zawacki 2012