Ruby

This is my granny's ruby ring. She and my grandpa lived on a farm and worked hard to make ends meat. She worked at a cabinet factory when my momma was little. Sometime in her marriage my grandpa bought her this ruby ring. When she passed away in July- almost a year ago- this was what she left me.
One night as J and I were talking about my wedding ring he said. What if we used your grandma's ring? I was so excited. I still have no idea how we'll go from flower ring to vintage wedding band. But come October 13th we'll know. And as he slips that ring on my finger I'll be happy that even though she's not there in person, granny will be there in ruby ring form :-)

Salvation Army China

About a month ago, my parents and I headed down to Southaven MS to my sister's house. I know. Most of you just said,"I didn't know you had a sister?!" Well I do! I actually have 3half siblings; 2 sisters and a brother. I'm the baby ;-)

Anyway, my nephew was playing in a ball tournament so my parents when I see him and I tagged along. While we were waiting on the games to begin, mom and I headed to a few stores in search of some china.

We found these two patterns at The Salvation Army! They were all sat out on a table, just begging to be purchased! So we did! We left Memphis with a trunk full of plates! And one happy nephew- who happened to win his tourney.

Cemetery travels

I love cemeteries. Maybe it's because I visited them often when I was a little kid. Mostly I think they are peaceful reminders of life. My aunties and mom and I like to visit them every so often. Today we went to visit my Granny and Papaw's grave. As well as my Uncle Jaw's and even my Great Grandpa Brazier.
I think there's something peaceful about a place where you can think about how someone lived their life. I think cemeteries are a peaceful reminder of the heritage we all have. Each one of us is a piece of a heritage; one that comes before and one that we will leave behind.
Today, on Memorial Day when we honor those who gave so much, I visited my Great Grandpa Brazier's grave for the first time. He was a man who I never got to meet. The man who I have to thank for my red hair. He fought in World War II and came home an alcoholic. But in his later days he was around to buy my momma hula hoops and be her best friend. He is the reason my momma cries at the sound of Taps, because he was buried on a January day with full military honors.
His grave is out back of the farm I knew as my Grandparent's only home, yet today was the first time I climbed the hill to see where he was laid to rest.
I've heard it say that the most important thing on your tombstone is the dash between the numbers, because that's where your life was lived. I hope I live my life so that one day my great grandchildren will see the heritage I've left them and be thankful for it.

Failure-not an option.

Let's be truthful. Everyone likes to succeed. No one likes to hear that they aren't good enough. But sometimes we let a few people dictate how good we are at something and that can alter our lives forever.
Some of you may remember a few years ago when I started blogging while I lived in Washington DC. I probably talked one of two times about how I was told I might need to consider a new career.
But what I hid from most people was the real reason I didn't stay in DC. I didn't stay because they said I "wasn't good enough". It's not that I hated the jobs, although they were somewhat boring. It was that the people in charge of me told me I wasn't good enough. And I believed them.

So I came home, went to Nashville and interpreted. Dreading each day because I "wasn't good enough". I finally got my new job in Paducah, with a sweet kid who didn't really know if I was good enough or not. Let's face it, first grade conversations aren't that hard to interpret.

When Jeffrey and I started talking about moving to Cali, I was over come with a huge sense of "not good enough". I tried to hide it from him by proclaiming that I wanted to go back to school (which I might still do) because I didn't like to interpret. When in reality, I believed I "wasn't good enough" to interpret in a big city.
At least once a day I was haunted with that feeling of failure. The feeling of not being chosen to work full time in DC.

Jeffrey quietly let me talk about new careers and dreams. Until last night. He finally said to me. "Han, the gift you have is too special for your to run away from it. I refuse to let you be so scared of failure that you don't walk in the gift God placed within you. When we move, you can work wherever you want, but I want you to be involved with deaf people. I want you to try again, because all you've lost is your confidence. I want you to try again, because if you'd let yourself feel it, you know that interpreting is exactly what you were called to do."

There I was 2,000miles away from him and he knew exactly what had happened. Three years ago I let one person tell me a lie, and for three years I believed it. I convinced myself that I "wasn't good enough". When God tells me that through Him I can do anything.

When we move to Fresno, I can't interpret until I take a really expensive test. So I'll find another job for a while, but my goal for 2013 is to take my National Interpreting test. Who knows, in the course of this next year I might find that I like being in the deaf community but not interpreting.
But from this day forward I refuse to let one person, from three years ago, dictate who I am today. I refuse not to try again. If I try and fail, at least I did it on my own terms. At least I gave it one more shot. But I don't believe God placed such a unique gift in me, for it not to be used to impact some people.

I am so thankful for an amazing future husband who sees the gold in me and calls it forth. I Hope that if you have allowed someone to dictate who and what they think you are, instead of what God sees you as, you realize it soon. He only wants the best for us. And failure, is not an option!