{Meet Daisy Doodle}

Hey, y'all!  A few month's ago, I shared with y'all our sadness over the loss of Lily, our 6 1/2 year old golden retriever who suffered from nasal cancer.  (You can read the post HERE.)  Our house was soooo lonely after she passed.  And while we still miss her every day, our house is a lot less lonely now.  Why?  Well, meet Daisy.

Daisy is our eight week old golden doodle.  We brought her home last weekend, and she has quickly become a part of the family.  

She is just the tiniest, cutest little fur baby!  I had to explain to Daisy that Lily was the best dog in the world before her passing, but since she is in heaven now, Daisy herself is now the best dog in the world.  She seems to be fine with that.

Since she's just a baby, she sleeps a lot now...often in weird positions that just can't be comfortable.  

She loves to cuddle too, and I'm all about it.  :)  When she wakes up, though, she is a force to be reckoned with.  Think tiny sharp teeth, ankle biting and galloping around so fast she trips over her own feet.

As you can see, she's pretty vicious.  ;)  

But when she's bad and we try to chastise her, she turns on the charm, and we can't be mad at her anymore.  (Well, until she bites our ankles again. ) 

She'll never take Lily's place in our hearts, but there just so happened to be a Daisy-shaped hole there until we got this little doodle, and she has been more than happy to fill it.  :)   P. S. If you want to see more Daisy photos and watch her grow, follow me on Instagram.

{Goodbye, Lily}

Hey, y'all.  I haven't posted in over a week, and there's a good reason for that.  I've been really sad because my husband and I had to have our beloved dog Lily put down Friday night.  My blog is normally about crafting and revamping furniture, so if you don't want to read this, it's okay.  I just really need to write this...  

My husband and I have been absolutely heartbroken for days now.  If you've followed my blog for a while, you know that we haven't been able to have children.  (You can read all about that {HERE} and {HERE}.)  Because of that, Lily was our baby.  She was such a blessing to us.  We babied her, and she acted like a child from all the love and affection we gave her. 

About three months ago, she was diagnosed with nasal cancer.  We were devastated.  When the vet told my husband that Lily could have only days to weeks to live, he refused to give up without a fight.  Chemo and radiation aren't all that helpful for most dogs, so my husband researched any way possible that we could give Lily a fighting chance.  He found a blog that talked about treating dogs with cancer holistically.  My husband started cooking Lily two meals a day, and he ordered many, many herbs and supplements to give her.  I really admire the way he was so dedicated to our little baby.  

This and a whole lot of prayer seemed to be working well until two weeks ago when Lily started bleeding from her nose.  (This is how we first realized something was wrong with her, but she had only had a few very brief bleeds since being on her new diet.)  

Last Monday, my sister and mom and dad came over to my house to celebrate my birthday.  Lily was SO EXCITED to see them because she just genuinely loved people--especially "her" people.  She played and loved on everyone, but then all of a sudden, she had a seizure.  That night, my husband and I stayed up all night with her.  She had another seizure during the night.  After that, we had brief periods where we thought she might rebound, but we finally realized Friday that she was progressively getting worse.  She was acting nothing like herself, and the vet assured my husband that it was only going to get worse, and it was time to let her go.  That decision was so tough.  A vet tech came over so that Lily could be put down at home.  I rubbed her back as she slowly slipped from this life into the next.

I just can't believe that she's gone.  We had her for 6 1/2 years.  There's a great story that goes along with how we got her, and my husband really said it best in a post on his Facebook page.  It's the "Story of Lily":

Some people who've never had a pet who was much more than a just a pet might not even understand how someone could be devastated over the loss of an animal, but Lily was special. She filled a void that Bethany and I've had because we haven't been blessed with kids yet. She was a gift from God, and I told Him when He healed her, I'd give Him the glory. Well, it didn't happen so today I'm going to give Him the glory for putting Lily in our lives...

Bethany and I were married a little over 8 years ago. I always told her that I wanted a golden when we got married, and she surprised me with one right after my birthday in 2005. We drove to a nearby town, picked her out, brought her home, and named her Rosie. She was a great dog. A year and a half went by, and one day she escaped my back yard and was hit by a car. We came home to find notes from my neighbor taped to my door that chronicled the day's events. My neighbor wound up helping another neighbor load Rosie up and take her to the vet after rescuing her from beside the road. The next day I would go to the vet's office to see her one last time and give the ok for her to be put out of her misery. I was devastated. Rosie was MY dog, and she was gone. I cried for weeks everyday. I told everyone I'd never have another dog, but I prayed secretly that if I ever had another, she would be just like Rosie. 

     Approximately 6 weeks later, on Christmas Eve night, I would go back on what I said. I was at my in-laws' house. They saw how broken I was over Rosie, and they said you need another pup. I told them repeatedly that I wasn't ready, but after much urging, I looked in the local paper they gave me for an ad for golden retriever puppies they said was in that week's edition. It wasn't there because they had given me a two week old edition. I told them this and was just going to toss it aside when I flipped to the back page and there was an ad for golden puppies in a town about 25 miles away. I reluctantly called the number and spoke to a guy who said, "I'm sorry, but they are all promised out." I told him I really wasn't ready anyway because I had just lost one a couple months ago. He then asked me for my phone number, and said, "Let me talk to my wife...I'll call you back." I didn't think much of it, and said, "Ok." He calls back and said, "I spoke to my wife, and we have two females...one person backed out today. Come on over and pick one out." I asked him was he sure he wanted me to come over right then because it was Christmas Eve night. He said, "I am usually very particular about who I sell my dogs to, but I have a good feeling about you." He asked me who I got my first golden from and when, and I told him. He said, "You're not going to believe this, but your Rosie is my dog's sister." Obviously, at that point, I had no choice. We drove 30 mins, spent time with this guy, his wife, their two small children, and all of his goldens on Christmas Eve for over an hour. This one puppy never got distracted and kept coming back to me when all of the others had better things to do, and I brought her home. I named her Lily, and yes, she was Rosie's niece. She was actually born on November 14, which was the same day Rosie died. I tell people this story all the time and they get chills and tear up, and this story means much more to me now than it ever has. 

Lily was OUR dog. Bethany saw how grieved I was over Rosie, and decided she would become more involved with Lily. Things were much different. Lily NEVER slept outside. She slept with us in the bed until she was just too big to. (Well, Bethany left for a getaway one weekend a couple years ago, and I invited Lily back up on the bed. She gladly accepted. Don't tell Bethany.) 

We bought a new chair a couple years ago. Lily claimed it, and we were happy to let her. This was Lily's house. She has a toy box full of "babies." She knew most by name. I'd say, "Take piggy to mommy, Lil." She would gently pick piggy from her box or the floor and take her to see Bethany. We treated her like she was our child because she was. She woke us up every morning by "chirping" and beating her tail against the bed, and she wouldn't go to bed at night until I prompted her, "Com'on, Lil, time for bed." Yes, this has shattered our world. Lily was special. My neighbor, who was especially fond of her, told us how terribly she cried for us when we left her for a while. One of the most difficult things for me was having to go tell him the news of her nasal cancer (three months ago) until I had to go tell him of her passing yesterday. He had been giving her grain free treats because I gave him some because he liked to give her snacks, and I was treating Lily with a holistic diet. He was happy to try to help, and he was devastated when I delivered the news Friday. He said, "I've been around and had a lot of dogs in my life, and I've never seen a sweeter, more compassionate dog than Lily. She loved people." That's the kind of dog she was. My in-laws were here for support when we said goodbye Friday. They loved her like we did, and cried when she was gone...like we did. I'd give anything to see her one more time, and I'm so sorry this happened to her. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to change it. But I'm not sorry we got her. I'd still choose her if I had to do it all over again because, well... it was meant to be.

Both my husband and I are sad, and, to be honest, our house feels a little empty.  There are so many little things that Lily did that brought us joy, and we're definitely missing each and every one of them.  I know the hurt will heal, and more than likely we will get another dog one day because we're just dog people.  But one thing is for sure, there will never be another Lily.

{Perfection}

After writing my last post from the heart, I realized how much I like connecting with readers through personal stories and thoughts.  I've decided that I'm going to share from my heart more often, as well as sharing random photos I take that speak to me.  While considering what my next post from the heart would be, I started thinking about perfection.  Why is it that we as women are on a constant quest for perfection?  It starts at a young age.  I see it every day in the faces of the young girls I teach.  

They try to wear perfect outfits, hang out with the perfect people, and date the perfect guys.  But when I look into their eyes, I see something else: disappointment.  They--like their mothers, sisters, grandmothers, and aunts--can't attain perfection.  

The truth is no one can.  I know that first hand.  There is never a moment that I can boast my entire house is clean, I can't remember important dates to save my life, and my nose is a little bit crooked.  Just a few of my own imperfections.  But I like to think of The Nester's motto for decorating: "It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful."  

The same is true about all women, young and old alike.  We are beautiful despite our imperfections and, in odd moments of irony, because of them.  While there will always be those who will focus on our flaws and those who may even go as far as unnecessarily pointing them out, one thing is certain: God loves us just as we are.  

There is no outfit we can wear, perfect prayer we can say, certain number of church services we can attend, or amount of people we can clothe or feed that can make Him love us any more.  Likewise there is no shameful act we can commit that would make Him love us any less.  This is the astounding heavenly beauty of His mercy and grace.  All He asks for in return is obedience.  Not an obedience out of habit or because it is expected.  An obedience that comes from the love we have for Him.  And that in His eyes is perfection.

{The Future...}

I know I am a craft/home decor blogger, and I'm totally okay with that.  I love it actually.  But sometimes I feel the need to write something about life.  Something about my life.  

For several years, my focus in life has been trying to have a baby.  (You can read more about my journey {HERE}.)  I have wanted to be a mother since I was a child.  If you've followed my blog for a while, you know that my husband and I have done pretty much everything medically possible to make that happen.  For about four years, my life has revolved around visits to the doctor, shots, pills, and procedures.  (Of course, that's not counting the years we tried to get pregnant before going to the doctor.)  And, though I couldn't admit it at the time, that's what my life became.  Sure, I worked and crafted and socialized, but I'm beginning to think that I wasn't truly LIVING.   After my multiple failed fertility treatments, I have finally accepted the fact that I will probably never have biological children.  I can't say that realization hasn't been heartbreaking and very emotional, but I've accepted it.   And now that my mind has cleared from my four year fog of baby tunnel vision, hormones, and other medications, I am okay with that.  I do want to be a mom to a child one day, but you know what I've realized?  I'm okay if that doesn't happen this year, the next, or even the next. I have realized that I LOVE my life the way it is now. I love that I have time to craft.  I love that I have so many hobbies that I enjoy.  I love that my husband and I can go on dates whenever we want.   I'm not saying that I wouldn't gladly give all that up for a baby.  I'm just saying that I am accepting the hand I've been dealt in life, and I am going to be thankful for and enjoy my blessings. And, yes, when the time comes, I will again begin my quest for a child.  My husband and I will find a child who needs a forever home--our home.  But I'm enjoying not being on an emotional roller coaster every month.  I'm enjoying dreaming about my future as an individual and a wife.  I am learning so much about myself as a person.  With all the medical procedures and constantly having my hopes crushed, I was way too stressed and uptight than I needed to be.  I am learning to relax.  I have realized that if I am stressed about something, that's all I can see at the moment.  I have realized that I need to stop and tell myself that I can't just focus on that one stressful thing--I need to focus on the bigger picture.  I have realized that it's okay to try something different even if I fail.  I'm a perfectionist, and I hate not being extremely good at something. But I think it's safe to say that there are not too many people who have immediately been extremely good at something the first time they tried it. You see, God gives us several beautiful gifts through our struggles.  First of all, He reminds us that we are not HOME.  We are simply here on this messy, heartbreakingly wonderful earth for a very small time.  When we get HOME, everything will be perfect, and our struggles make our hearts long for that.  Also, He teaches us that we can endure more than we ever thought possible and become stronger from it with His help and the help of others He has placed in our lives.  And last but not least, He gives us the amazing ability to use our struggles to reach out to others and encourage them.   I hope my writing about my story does bring a little hope to someone or at least makes someone feel that she's not alone. And the wonderful fact about my story?  This is not the end of it.  It's just the middle, and I can't wait to see how the rest unfolds!

{Somedays...}

Somedays when your heart feels just a little bit heavy And your smile doesn't come as often as it should And you find yourself so caught up in living that you forget to LIVE-- On days like that You just have to take a moment. A moment to soak in the sun from a beautiful day. A moment to think about all that God has blessed you with. A moment to forget about the to do list. A moment to soak in the quiet. A moment to act silly and dance like a fool. Just a moment.

Today, I am embracing my moment. I hope you take the time to do the same.