A VERY Special Birthday!

Early in 2011, I heard six very special words that made my heart smile with pure joy: “You’re going to be an Aunt!” From the very utterance of these words, I began praying for this sweet being. I wanted this child to grow strong and healthy leading up to its delivery. With what happened in the months prior, I began praying specifically that Melissa would be healthy, and that Baby would be healthy.

Then a short time later, three more words made this aunt-to-be so very excited. “It’s a GIRL!” Man, was I tickled pink! From the very first “picture” of this wee one, I was so in love. :)

It might sound weird, but with each passing day, week and month that I saw Melissa’s ‘bump’ getting bigger, I would thank God for answering my prayers. She was growing, she was healthy, and so was Melissa. 

Before I knew it, December was upon us, and it was time for Baby Girl to make her arrival. I was so excited. I was nervous. I wanted to see EXACTLY what she looked like. I could not wait to hold her.

When I saw her, she was perfect. She was, in fact, the answer to my every prayer. 

Over the last FOUR YEARS (man, where does the time GO?!) I have had the pleasure and sheer joy of watching her grow. Her beautiful blue eyes and sweet, sweet smile melt my heart every time I see her.  With every new picture that gets posted on Facebook, I am just in awe of her. 

I still remember her first Christmas, and what a joyous one it was. Seeing her smile and taking in all the technicolor. Her little laughs and squeals were the best. A few weeks ago, we celebrated Christmas early, and she was excited about everything that was opened. Whether it was hers or not, she "just wanted to look." She's precious in every kind of way. 

The name I picked for myself was Aunt JuJu. Julie-Anne is a mouthful for little people, so JuJu was a wee bit simpler. I couldn't wait to hear her little voice say my name. Then, one night, as we were leaving church, she waved bye-bye, and said, "Bye Bye, Juice! Bye Bye, car! (My wheelchair)" I tell you, I nearly died. Juice. I like that. That's who I am now, and I love it. 

I am so excited that this sweet baby has made it to be FOUR today. Her life is just getting started, and I know I have years upon years of watching her smile, watching her grow, and hearing her laugh. Aunt Juice can’t wait!

It is difficult to find adequate words

So, I have been in a fairly contemplative state of mind since yesterday. I did not really say all that I was thankful for in the previous post, and I guess I will touch on that a little bit here.
It is hard to incapsulate ever single thing I am thankful for, because...there are just a great many things.

In tenth grade English class, Mrs. Henle taught us that 1/8th of the iceberg is visible, while the remaining 7/8ths is below the surface. Well, the list of the things for which I am thankful is just the tip of the iceberg.

I am thankful for my faith. I am thankful for a Savior who who sees me as worthy of redemption when I am a Thomas, a Paul, a sorry pile of dung at my BEST, and in spite of all that, still looks at me with so much love. I am thankful for the Grace that has been showered upon me when I deserve nothing but God's wrath.

I am thankful to be an aunt to the two most precious people on this planet. Their little faces brighten my darkest day.

I am thankful for my brother, whom I miss so much it hurts. Texting, phone and video chats are great, but I miss seeing and spending quality time with him on a weekly basis.

I am thankful for my precious boy, and all of the comfort and companionship he provides.

I am thankful for selfless parents.

I am thankful for college football, and that my heart can handle the intensity.

I am thankful to have a best friend who has been my angel of mercy when I have been at my most broken, and for providing me with the most precious extended "family" when I have needed it most.

I am thankful for laughter.

I am thankful for music.

I am thankful for life.

Give Thanks....

When I was growing up, Thanksgiving meant a few key things. A ton of good food, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and the company of my parents and my brother. It was always small. Holidays with the Denticis were always small. I'd watch the parade with my mom, and comment on all the floats. I remember telling my mom that I bet the Rockettes were cold since they were not wearing any pants. My mom assured me that they were wearing flesh colored tights, so they weren't cold. :-)

Every year, we would sit at the table and go around naming the things for which we were most grateful.

Well, over the years, our gathering has shifted. Since my brother and his family now live in State College, PA, there are definite empty places at the table. Nothing ever stays the same, and time marches on.

Well, today, I ate lunch with my parents. Afterwards, we came back to my apartment, and decorated my Christmas tree, while reminiscing about the stories behind each ornament that adorned each branch. We got to have a brief video chat with my brother and niece, and that has been something I'd been wanting to do for a while. My little niece is my heart. I love that little girl. My nephew was napping, but I will get to see him when they come to visit in about two weeks, so I am VERY excited for that. When my brother and his family moved to Pennsylvania, my nephew was a baby. He is now a little person, and it is hard to believe how much he has grown. It will be good to see each of them, again, and to give them each a hug. Two. Weeks.

I rounded out my Thanksgiving at a friend's house, and we discussed everything from life, the mercy and mystery of Christ, and some other odds and ends and whatnots. Fun times. Ginger beer and spiked eggnog accompany conversations quite well, by the way. :)

I am thankful for so much. SO. much. I might not vocalize each and everyone/thing, but I have so many blessings.

Here is a picture of my mom and me. As she put it, "I look a little goofy." Well, mama, I think I am the one that looks goofy. YOU look fabulous. :)

Grace and Thanksgiving

When I was five years old, I met this girl who quickly became my best friend. When you are that age, a person becomes your friend because you like the same things, or something so cheesy and superficial like that.

Taylor liked Alabama. I liked Auburn. Taylor liked the color red. I liked the color pink. Really, there was one thing that we both loved the same amount. We loved the movie "La Bamba." Seriously. I still say that no one does a locker lean quite like Ritchie (Lou Diamond Phillips). We were obsessed.

As we grew up, life took us in opposite directions, and we lost touch. Even though we lost touch, I would think of Tayls every September 1. The first of September is her birthday, but growing up, it was also my parents' wedding anniversary.

Taylor would come to mind every year on Iron Bowl Saturday. Even though we were not in touch, I always, always had things that would bring her to mind.

Fast forward to 2006. Providentually, thanks to a thing known as MySpace, I was reconnected with my childhood best friend. The beautiful thing about being reconnected when we were? It was two weeks before my dad passed away.

One night in July 2006, I got a phone call. The simple question I heard on the other end of the phone,("How ya doin'?") yielded an avalanche of an answer. Out of that conversation came something I will never forget. Her words: "I can't give you what you want, but I can give you what you need." I spent a short, but much needed four days on a couch in Charleston, South Carolina. That trip gave new life to a friendship that had been lying dormant for 13 years.

Nine years later, Tayls is still the best of the bestest friends I am blessed to have in my life. Thanks to her, I have a family who loves me and supports me, and is thankful for me.

This past weekend was an early Thanksgiving. I was invited. I wasn't invited as a friend, I was invited as a part of the family. I love being a part of a family where there is no dividing line. I have a family outside of my own, and it is a good thing. A beautiful thing. I am so blessed and fortunate to be greeted by love when I visit. Where someone else's parents feel like my own parents. Someone else's siblings feel like my own.

As I was leaving, I was told how loved I was, and how much of a daughter I feel to them. Being loved feels nice. I am so thankful. God continues to bless me with what I don't deserve. Grace and Thanksgiving. The two go hand in hand.

Nine years ago, at my most broken place...God brought angels of mercy into my life, and what has bloomed from that is far more beautiful than I could/would have ever dreamed.

When I'm 34...

So, today is October 26th. My birthday. But, if you know anything about me, you know--or should know that I celebrate all month long. There are just so many things that I love about October. I am so thankful to be an October baby.

The last few days have been so very special. Over the weekend, my best friend surprised me. We watched football together, we ate, we laughed, and she gave me the most beautiful spoon bracelet. The charm was so fitting of her, as it is a mermaid, so I never have to question who it was from.

I had lunch with my parents today, and that is always a special time. Every year, for as long as I can remember, my mom has shared bits and pieces of my birth story with me. Every birth is a miracle, yes. But, me? I am a special one. The fact that she and I are both alive today is a true testament to the fact that Christ is, indeed, the sustainer of all life. I gave my mom pink roses this morning. Pink. I am a girl, and it is my favorite color. Pink. A color my mom said she never cared for until she had a little girl, and then her world just EXPLODED with pink. :) I got a pink food processor today, guys! Seriously. I love pink.

Tonight, my dear friend, Andrew, took me out to dinner. He gave me some of my favorite perfume. I only wear it on special occasions, so it should last me a while. Andrew said that his birthday wish for me was to find someone who treats me like the princess I am, so that I can wear the perfume every day. That is one of the nicest things I have heard in a long time.

It is so nice to feel loved. I got a precious card from my Pen Pal, and the 34 is backwards. So precious. I am so thankful that little hands remembered me on my birthday, and love me enough to write me notes weekly. Fayelle, Naomi is my heart. :)

I got so many well wishes today via social media, and it made me stop and think. Each of you who wished me a happy day has known me in different seasons of my life. Whether I talk to you guys on the regular, or whether it's seasonal, I am thankful to know each of you...

Abide With Me

The first thing I thought about when I awoke this morning, after realizing another day was among us, was that it was October 18th. A short week ago, I wrote about just how special October 12th is, and how/why I don't look at that day the same way anymore. The same can be said for the 18th. Five years ago, my precious "Itty Bitty" nephew, Fourth, left this earth.

I remembered that this morning. I was flooded with memories as I sipped my morning coffee, and my phone alerted me that my TimeHop app had alerts for me. One of those alerts was a pleaful prayer from the very pit of my soul that I said. "Dear God, sustainer of all life, help us." It is helpful to have that reminder, even in the midst of heart shattering circumstances. It is the mercy of Christ that sustains us. Breath by breath. In the good times. In the bad times. He is our only hope in this life and the next.

The hymn, "Abide With Me," has always struck a chord deep within my soul, but especially Because of Fourth.

"....In life and death, Lord, abide with me."

Come, Lord Jesus. Make all things new.

Five Years of Love...and counting...

Five years ago, I learned that I was going to become an aunt. I was SO excited. I had decided that I was going to be a cool aunt. That IS what aunts are, right? An extension of a parent, yet JUST removed enough to be cool? :) I could totally picture telling my little niece or nephew all sorts of rhymes, little songs, all about what makes him/her special, I could picture everything.

A problematic pregnancy brought Fourth into this world far too early. October 12. My first thought? He was born on an anniversary that I share with my mom. It has been a long standing anniversary since 1990. This precious boy was born on a special day! The second thing I thought of? He's my birthday month buddy! I could now tell him all the wonderful things I like about October, and add to the aforementioned list of what makes him special: You were born in my favorite month. Oh, the joy that filled my heart.

I looked at his tiny body at the hospital, and I saw a perfect little baby. He had the sweetest little face, the cutest little nose, the tiniest of hands and feet, but everything was perfect. I looked at him, and I remember thinking, "My God is REAL, and He is mighty." There is just something about looking into the face of a baby that makes me feel like I am looking into the face of God. It is awe inspiring.

I never thought precious Fourth wouldn't live. You see, I was born early. I beat the odds. I just knew that was something he and I would share.

Only God knows why He chose to give our family this precious baby, only to take him back a short six days later. When I think of Fourth now, I think of him as a happy baby being cradled in the breast of Jesus. Perhaps that is silly or inacurrate, but I like to think that Jesus cradles His covenant children.  As deep of a hurt as it was to not only lose a nephew, but watch my brother and his wife lose their first born, and not being able to do anything to lessen their pain, I find comfort in knowing we will be reunited again. Fourth is in the hands of the One who holds all who know, trust and believe in Him.

Happy Birthday, sweet Fourth. Aunt JuJu loves you so deeply.

What Children Can Teach Us

One of my best friends from college is a mom of two PRECIOUS souls. Her oldest, Naomi, has captured my my heart from the time I learned my friend was expecting her. I can only IMAGINE what Fayelle feels. <3

Over the years, Naomi has been my valentine. I have tiny hands on my refridgerator, I have drawings of the two of us in a special place.

A few weeks back, I decided I was going to adopt her as my little person to love. A second "niece," if you will. This girl, whom I haven't even met, has the sweetest things to say.  The other day, I received  mail from her, and the outside of the envelope was just too much for me to handle. :) "I love you so MOCH!" MOCH. Stop it. Oh, the sweetness. 

Oh, the life of a child. The innocence is just so perfect. They see no wrong in the world. They love everyone for who they are. Why must we lose sight of this as we age? Children love as Christ loves. No questions asked. Oh, to have that love again. Time makes us cynical. Experiences make us jaded.

I wish loving people were this easy. There are people in my own life where I am just like, "I just don't  like them." If I don't like them, it makes loving them damn near impossible, and yet, we are commanded to. Ugh. Makes me want to stomp my foot and say, "No! I don't wanna!" Love and forgiveness don't come easily. Rome wasn't built in a day. Baby steps. *Grumble*

Oy.

So, I got a new wheelchair in April. Since April, there have been 12, YES, TWELVE service calls for repairs on the chair. Thankfully, they've all been a warranty issue, but still.

So, last night, I am having dinner with my friend, Sissy, and as we are leaving, minding our own business and what not, my chair makes this HORRIBLE screeching sound, and a loud snapping sound. Oh, shit. THAT cannot be good! Several people get out their cell phones, and start looking around for anything that might have come disconnected. No luck. Everything is still connected to where it should be connected, yet my joystick is lit up like a Christmas tree. There is a little picture of a wrench, which is the polite way of my chair letting me know that, well, I am SOL.

The problem? Well, I gotta get home. I am immobile without my one-seater cadillac, as I like to call it. Help me, Jesus. 

So, we call the fire department. Thankfully, this time, my ass is not exposed. They come. They're not cute, by the way. Cute firemen only come to the rescue in the movies. These men are looking at my chair the way new fathers look at a diaper that they have to put on their child for the first time. Yep. They are clueless. Then, one of them speaks! "Well, this light right here is flashing. So, there is some sort of problem." I start applauding. I inform him that he is a quick study.

So, they help me to my car...but they can't help me once I get to my apartment, because, well, that is out of their jurisdiction. Fantastic. Really. That's just outstanding. My friend just kind of rolls her eyes a bit, but then she follows me home. Thankfully, I have an old chair as a back up. She just has to get the dead chair out of my car, and the back up chair from my bedroom, outside, and into my car so that I can navigate. I am seriously so thankful for the old standby. Without it, I would be up a creek, not even being able to go to the bathroom. I have been down that road. I do NOT wish to revisit that avenue ANY TIME SOON.

So, as I wait for a new motor to be ordered and put on my chair, I am so, so thankful that I was not by myself when this happened. Jesus provided. He definitely heard my heart's plea, and I am thankful.

Ugh, NO!

So, I try not to be overly critical of people, and I have a hard time remembering that everyone is made in God's image when I place my two cents in to the opinion jar, but some things are just too easy.

I was watching Miss America last night, as I have done EVERY year since I was a little girl. So, tonight, I kept with the tradition. I was really underwhelmed by the talent portion of the competition. There was a violin player. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE the violin. It really is my favorite instrument. I mean, it can really be the part that tugs at the soul when it comes to music. Kansas' Dust In The Wind. The Beatles' Eleanor Rigby. Hell, even Celine Dion had a song that had a powerful violin portion in it. I love the violin.  Miss Mississippi played some opus on the violin, and it straight up sounded....well, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me.

Then there were people, who, God love 'em, have been told that they have beautiful singing voices. Someone needs to tell the majority that they have been deceived. They don't. Unless tone deaf is a talent, (IS IT?!) the vast majority of singers fell flat. And sharp.

But, perhaps the most head scratching moment was when Miss Colorado got up to do her talent in her  nursing uniform. Now, don't get me wrong, I love nurses. My mom is a nurse. A super nurse, at that. I am not making light of her career. But, I dunno. A monologue? Can wine drinking be considered a talent, then? Cause I'd be the most talented person anyone had ever SEEN.

Then came the interview portion. Man, some of those answers....I don't envy being in their position. I get that it is nerve wracking, and I'd probably fall on my face with some of the questions asked....BUT, some of those answers were just....uh uh. Miss Alabama, however, (who finished fifth overall) had the most intelligent answer to the question asked of her.

Miss America sure has changed over the years. I wouldn't necessarily say it changed for the better, except for the fact that women of color are recognized as being beautiful, too.

Where were YOU?

In college, I always slept with my tv on. I did this partly to drowned out dorm noise, but also to be able to watch the news, and catch the weather in the mornings, so I'd have a clue of how to dress for the day. 

September 11, 2001, I had a math class at 9:15. I had overslept, and woke up at 8:40. I was frantically trying to get out of bed, get dressed, and get my rear in gear. 

And then I saw it. Boom. This plane slammed into the side of the WTC. At first, I thought it was some movie promo the Today show was showing, to alert us viewers of who would be sitting down next with Katie Couric. 

But then a four letter word at the top left of my screen told me otherwise. The word? LIVE. I literally said, "What the Hell?!" Chills ran down my spine. Dear God, No. The images of the buildings on fire, the plane slamming into the WTC, the people jumping, it was all too much. It truly was like a nightmare, only it was not anything from which any of us could awaken. 

I didn't make it to math class. Before I knew it, my mom was knocking on my door. We embraced so tightly at that moment, and I cried for so many that were not afforded the same opportunity. I'll never forget.

Then, the following day, there was a ceremony of rememberence. Man, it was hot. (I posted the following on my facebook page yesterday, but wanted to give a more expanded recount here, if you're interested)...

I still remember where I was, what I was doing, what I was thinking. So. Horrific. So. Tragic. I also still remember when this picture was taken. I remember the very words that someone said that broke my heart. Those words: The BCM campus minister got up to speak. He was emotional, as was everyone else. He stated that he was awakened by his little boy the night before crying out for him because he had had a bad dream, and then he said it stopped him in his tracks when he thought of SO MANY who were crying out for their parents, who were no longer there to comfort them. I mean, even still, I get choked up thinking about it.  So, there I am, grieving for our country, and this heavy set man with a beard taps me on the shoulder. I glance to my left, he's flashing his badge from the Anniston Star, and gives me a form to fill out, giving him permission to use whatever photo he just took. I cautiously accept, printing my name very clearly: 


First name: J-U-L-I-E (hyphen) A-N-N-E


Last name: D-E-N-T-I-C-I.

I give my hometown information, etc., and he goes on his merry way. I then get out Zack Morris (version 2.0) Nokia cell phone, and call my dad. You see, here's the deal: My dad and I were not on the best of speaking terms for about a year and a half.  So, the fact that I called him was huge. God moves, man. God moves.  "So, I'm not completely sure, but I think I'm going to be in the paper..." His response? "Don't EVER sign something, unless you're 100 percent sure what you're signing." Then, he said, "Well, what paper?! I want to get every copy they print!" So, sure enough, a few days (maybe the following?) later, there's my mug in the paper. Thankfully it wasn't too much of an ugly cry moment (it easily could have been. I don't cry gracefully. At. All. People vacate the premises when I cry)...but, wait...does that say "Sentici?!" It does! Hmm. I get REALLY annoyed when people get my name wrong. I am so used to people mispronouncing my last name, that, really, I have stopped correcting people. But, if you jack up the spelling? Yeah, no. It bugs me. Julie bugs me. My name is Julie-Anne. If you ask me my name, and I tell you "Julie-Anne," then, damn it, that is what I SHOULD be called. The only person I really allow to call me Julie is my mother, because, well, she gave me life. She also NAMED me, so there really is no excuse, in my opinion, but that's a different battle for a different day. 


So, not only did 9-11 bring unity among us, it also provided me an alias. Just a little bit of humor for you on the 14th anniversary of a sobering, tragic event in our Great Nation's history. I am Julie-Anne Sentici, and I will #nevergorget.

Here We Go....again.

So, three years ago, I composed a blog that chronicled my journey to California. Apparently lots of people read that blog. Many people enjoyed that blog, and if you are one of those people, then thank you.

Periodically over the last few years, I have been asked, "Hey, so, what are you blogging about these days? When I respond with, "Nothing, really." The response is always, "...but you write so well." Well, again, if you said that, thank you. I appreciate the compliment.

Thinking back, I have never cosistantly written in journal form. I mean, when I was younger, and I would get a journal or something, I would be all sorts of convinced that I was going to be the next Anne Frank. Someone would find my journal after days gone by, and publish it. Yep. But, that'd only last for a few days. I never really felt like I had a whole lot to say. Nothing of interest, anyway.

When I was 16, I decided to make a teal colored five star notebook my secret keeper. I still have that notebook. When I look back at it, I just think, My God, there is no denying that I was SUCH a sophomore. To a 16 year old, everything is SUCH a big deal. Looking back, though? Not so much. I survived math class. That cute boy isn't so cute anymore. That party I was grounded from attending? Well, I probably didn't miss much anyway. :)

When I was in college, I kept a blog. Seems like EVERYONE did at the time. Xanga was the place to  be, man. So, I'd chronicle the goings on of my life. I actually kept with it for maybe two years, and then....well, it disapperead into the great unknown of the interwebs.

So, really, aside from my journey to California, I don't feel like anything is earth shattering. My life has been in a bit of a spin cycle, too. Living that has been hard enough. I don't really feel like writing about it would be a good thing. People wouldn't wanna read it, thats for sure. :)

So, that brings us to now. The title of this blog is kind of...well, gloomy. That's pretty much my prospective. I am trying to navigate the storm in my dingy. Storms can't last forever. I will continue to  trudge along. If the disciples made it through theirs, Jesus will bring me through mine...however long that is.

So, bear with me. Some posts may be gloomy. But, they say things are their darkest right before light comes, right?