Blogging With Cherished Women

Worry Free Decorating

I like pretty spaces. Vacant holes in rooms speak to me, crazy right?! But they do, they usually tell me some amazing way they can be filled and made use of. It’s a blessing and a curse ‘cause once I hear how a space wants to be used I’m like a pit bull to bring it to fruition. Obsessed with lists of what I’m looking for that go everywhere with me so I don’t miss a single opportunity to discover the solution to that vacant space. I run after that vision with all my heart….

Today I’m writing with the Cherished Women of Discovery Church in Orlando, FL. Come join me there!

Step Aerobics

I love step aerobics.

Don’t judge me, I know its a early 90’s way to exercise but it has always been one of my favorites. I like how challenging the choreography can be and I like how high impact the exercise is. I really love how quickly an hour flies by.

Today, I took my seventeen year old, Josie, with me. When we walked in the instructor excitedly thanked me for bringing a friend. She told my “friend” that I was one of the best steppers in the class. She found out it was her first time ever stepping and gave her encouragement, “If you get lost you just go back to the basic step”.

That last bit of direction proved unnecessary. Josie has been taking ballet and performing since she turned 4 years old. Hearing choreography directions shouted over loud music is a normal experience for her. For her first time stepping she rocked it. Her kicks up to her ears and even adding in choreography to challenge the moves and increase the workout level. Exercising to her left I maintained my usual pace but had to keep my eyes on the instructor since Jo seemed to know how to alter the moves and make them look good.

By the end of class I had been dethroned as the best stepper.

I love that my daughters are growing up to be my friends. I love that I got the chance to pour into their lives, educate & encourage them and now I watch as they surpass me at so many things. I can’t help but feel it is a way God blesses my life, getting to watch them soar, while stepping at my own pace right beside them.

Emily Weisband


A spunky little girl I knew years back when I was a young Momma. Leader of her pack of siblings and my kiddos too when they got the chance to join in. That’s her on the end with my kids and my little cousins mixed in. I love that I get to say I “knew her when”.

My Dad and her Dad were cut from the same cloth and it proved a little scary when we let them sit together at church functions. Sacrilege is the word that comes to mind. I still sat close by so I didn’t miss a moment of their antics. You were guaranteed a comedy show with those two.

But, back to this beautiful girl. She has a hauntingly beautiful voice and she can write some song lyrics. She is making her way in Nashville but hasn’t yet (that I’m aware of) released her first CD. If I’m wrong about this then someone please let me know ASAP!

Her song “Something to Remember Me by” is a favorite around here. I am pretty sure that I have personally added hundreds of plays to this song on SoundCloud.

Emily, gurrlll, when is that album coming out ’cause my streaming data just can’t handle my need to replay this “over and over again”?!

If you haven’t heard of Emily or experienced her delightful lilting sound then I encourage you to visit SoundCloud and join me in upping her count (then maybe we can move that on to a recording so I don’t have to use up so much data with my need to listen).

Finally, Front of the Line

I have a special super power….I’m visionary.

I can see a project done the moment I get the idea. I see the plan, I see the steps to take to get to completion and I like to push myself and everyone around me hard to execute it RIGHT NOW.

I like Right Now.

It works for me.
I am not patient, I do not like waiting, I would rather do a ton of research and use my knowledge and education to skip the line.

Newsflash to me….

Grief has rules, it is emotional and it ebbs and flows on its own timeline. It won’t let you cut in line.

I know, I tried.

I really thought if I read the books, knew the steps then I could fast forward myself through the grief line.

It didn’t work.

Here I am four years later and I’ve made it to the front of the line.
I think I may have stalled my own progress in my desire to fast forward.
I ran across this last unpublished post….It speaks of the hazy life waiting in that line.

I’m in an upside down world. My voice, the tone and inflection, lilt and resonance is forever changed. I am forever changed and I am trying to understand the girl that exists today.
She has found joy in the journey. She is grateful for every moment her earthly Daddy was here. She relates in a knew way with her Momma and her Brother. They are all learning new steps to the daily dance without a key dancer.
She laughs a lot and then crawls to a secret place to cry for her broken heart. Her God is doing something. When she writes it’s choppy and disjointed but life is full of good stuff. Both ends of the emotional spectrum own her heart at the same time.
Every day is a veiled gift. Her children and her man are digging deep. They are going to love and do it well. They are going to serve. They are going to do hard things. Her focus on these things leaves her feeling dizzy. She gets lost on the highway. She can’t write a cohesive sentence with pen and paper but she hugs a lot. She drops her world to just be with folks. Folks are precious. People are precious. This life, her life, it feels priceless.
She has asked God to reorder, well reorder her. He’s true to his word and she attributes all the confusion to what her God is up to.

God had some crazy work to do with this girl and her stubborn clay. I’m seeing the sun again and I remember how to laugh, how to be me. It’s nice to be back. Thanks for being patient with me.


Circling the Runway

Holding patterns.


Our lives are circling the airport. It’s been two years of circling. We spent one circling cancer. The waiting and being, in the moment, proved grueling and beautiful.

It’s been a shocker to find ourselves again in the holding pattern. We got word from the tower on my birthday. Jobs changed and work that was, now does not exist. You know the drill, America, she knows the drill.

Big decisions had to be made and a sacrifice marred red on every one of the pro and con sheets. The question that hung heavy in the tension of our house, Which sacrifice will we make?

We prayed and fasted.

It’s a bummer when God speaks clearly but I make it an issue because His words aren’t the answer I’m looking for.

There are so many times when I am disappointed with my human response. My head knows how I should behave and yet I throw a temper tantrum.

My temper tantrums fuel the tank to circle longer.

I wish I could tell you that I have that childishness under control, go ahead… let’s all have a good belly laugh over the insanity of that statement.

When will I truly mature?

This is not my first time circling the airport. I can say that I have grown some. Previous holding patterns found me withdrawn and sullen. I have remained engaged, personally, with the folks around me.

This just means my tantrums are of a new nature and God and me, we are having to work them out. Thankfully, this God is in for the long haul even when this girl is ready to nose dive in fiery flames.

One Year

One Year.

So much can happen in one year.

Life happens in One Year.

We change in One Year.

Today is the Anniversary of our One Year.

I’ve been dreading this Anniversary.

For One Year it has loomed large on the horizon.

And, for One Whole Year I’ve been wishing for a fast forward button.

Damn, where is that fast forward button.

Why don’t emotions respond to direct commands.

I’ve lived this One Year.

I have felt it all, all for One Year.

I don’t stuff emotion well, I eat them.

I don’t connect well in the tumult of emotion, I hide.

I don’t sort emotion well, I explode.

But as I live this dreaded One Year Anniversary and I gaze back at the path to this day I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, We’ve (the little family that lost this Husband and Dad and Papa) accomplished.

We’re not as big a mess as I thought we’d be.

I’ve hid from my blog this One Year.

I felt you could only take so much of my wrestle with this One Year. Feel free to embrace the assumption based on my above comment, the real reason for silence, “She doesn’t connect well in a tumult of emotions, She Hides”.

You’d be right to make such an assumption.

I can be such a coward.

I’m back now.

Today I mourn.

The deepest, heart wrenching type of mourning. If you saw the  state of my heart you would weep too. Maybe you’ve already caught a glimpse in the words tear typed on the screen.

But Tomorrow.

Hope for a new horizon.

Tomorrow, I’m past this Anniversary and my heart senses the warmth of the sun on that new horizon.

Thanks for hanging in there with me.

It’s been quite a Year.


Rainbow Cake

A piece of cake.

Not how I would describe homeschooling and travel for work.

I used this sentence as a focus for a recent presentation. I used this rainbow cake as a key analogy in my presentation.

I loved creating the presentation, traveling to give the presentation and blessing them with little details.

I do love the tiny details.

In this case I decided it would be fun to make tiny cake magnets to give as awards at the completion of my presentation. All the family pitched in to help me make my mini magnet cakes.

I’m one of five fantastic Negveskys and my team loves the details too. 

He dropped me at the airport Sunday and The Man headed to chaperone cotillion class with our two beautifully dressed daughters. I would travel for work and he would teach young men to properly knot a tie. My exit left a lot of details. The remaining four Negveskys oversaw meals, completed school, made it to dance and piano lessons and completed daily chores. They did it well so I could go.

I got home and the house looked great, so great that it showed no sign of a baking bonanza to produce a full size 6 layer version of my rainbow cake magnets. They just whipped it up as a special way to welcome me home. Just a little detail.

I traveled far from home but with the help of a rainbow cake my little family made themselves a living, breathing participant in my journey.  

Gratefully Eating Cake and Counting:

  1. For a Family that does neat things to say how much they love me
  2. Meeting Him on the airplane and feeling so blessed because of it.
  3. That the Fantastic Four is safe and has electricity today
  4. A Mom that still loves digging in to insane craft projects with me.
  5. That I held my own in spades.
  6. Sweet little dimpled face chatting away as I put on my make up.



In it With You

The cursor blinks on this electronic diary. It’s been seven months since my last visit. I gladly stayed far away from this blank white space. At my exit of the funeral home last March I had two things facing me, a life I had put on hold that now demanded my attention and a future forever changed. I decided to wake up every day and tackle that day with a fist full of vitamins and a Gratitude Journal.

The vitamins have worked wonders.
And, daily choosing joy with 10 simple gratitude’s has made the journey to this 7 month mark,
This visiting again,
In this white space,
It’s made it all possible.

I have amazing days.

Then there are the days when my heart feels like a melted puddle in my chest and I can’t clean it up. I wish I was nicer on those days. I wish I didn’t miss him so on those days. On those days, I wish the world would stop and feel my loss. But it’s a busy world. It doesn’t have time to stop for my broken heart.

I have days that start great, I’ll plan a normal event and I forgot that he had been a natural part of that normal. I don’t know why, at times, I forget my loss. When memory jolts me to the change… it’s hard.

The jolt is 100,000 wattage to the heart. And I’m standing in a once normal event and I want to run from my memory, my loss. I am proud to say I’ve learned to stand and face the future minus Dad, this new normal, and hold the tears. It’s not until later that I crash in a quiet room and sob.

I have learned the emotional release in a sigh. It gets me through the grocery store music that surfaces memories of childhood. Through the inside jokes that bubble so naturally to my lips, but zap my heart because it’s an inside joke to me alone now.

I’m dripping my tears and ragged heart for you here. I guess I could apologize for a sad post, but I won’t. I think there is too much hurt that life barrels right past. Too many times I’ve run right past you and your broken heart and I am sorry for that.

Repeatedly my gratitude’s in that aforementioned journal are for the people who see the red rimmed watery eyes and offer me a look…. the one of compassion and knowing. I am grateful for the understanding human who pats my shoulder in remembrance, offers words of encouragement. These nurses of pain pull me through the jolted moments. I appreciate them.

I don’t know what’s left your heart in a pulped mess but let me be that for you today. Let me offer you a ragged watery grin, a pat on the shoulder with a loving embrace. I know it hurts, I’m in there with you.

Jolted Gratefulness:

1444. Seeing a motorcycle like Dad’s and remembering how much he loved to ride.

1445. Going to Amazing Glaze and reminiscing with the lovely women there about Dad and his pottery painting antics.

1446. The Scroll Saw coming to my house because it seems Dad made sure EVERYONE knew he had bought that for me.

1447. When she drops two laundry baskets of his clothing, that smells like him, at my house and I remember Dad in those clothes and I can’t not cry.

1448. That The Boy wants to hunt, fish, carry a pocket knife and that he is the kindred spirit to his Papa.

1449. A younger brother with a video camera asking hard questions about grief and he interviews me with tears pouring and my tears are pouring and we nurse each other in our pain.

1450. A Backyard Birthday Party for one of Dad’s Grand babies and the water balloon fight would have been started by him. His antics were missed but his spirit hovered in the fun.


My Dad
It’s been weeks I’ve thought about what I would say on this day. How do you take the whole of a man’s life and impact the listener with the fullness of it in just a few minutes. I made a list of words, is there just one word that would describe the life of My Dad? 

It’s hard not to turn him into a saint and if you knew him you knew he was no saint. As a matter of fact, Dad was a transparent sinner. He sinned out in the open, for all to see. This was hard on the today’s American church. Dad just didn’t look like the common picture of that edifice. He was loud, he was politically incorrect, he told off color jokes, he hunted and rode a motorcycle and he came to church every Sunday with his wife and children, often sleeping soundly through the sermon.

So, as all the good is running through my mind coupled with the memory of this transparent sinner I grasped for a word to describe him. For days I’ve tossed around the thought, 

“What makes a man remarkable?” 

 Is he remarkable when he drops out of high school and finds a career he loves? 
When he goes on his knees in prayer to save the life of his unborn child? 
And, when that life is safe he joyfully marries and loves the mother, child and her little brother as well? 
Then he loves and pursues his wife for 38 years. 

Do we call this remarkable? 

And if he works the night shift and brings a paycheck home faithfully for his family those same 38 years? 
What if he makes it known to his wife and children that they are his favorite people to be with. Because he always wants to be with them, building a house, doing yard work, vacationing, stocking shelves late at night in the grocery store, or just running to 7-11? 

And, when he slips a disk in his back and refuses immediate surgery to bring relief from the pain because he won’t be able to walk his girl down the aisle on her wedding day?
Then delays that surgery again because he can’t let her drive an 8 hour trip alone on a new engine?

What if he gives his free time, every weekend, many hunting opportunities, to be with his son in prison on visiting day? If he does this for 6 solid years, 

is that remarkable?

And when his face is the picture of sheer delight each time he lays eyes on a new grandchild?
Do we count him remarkable when he will drive 45 minutes just to kiss them goodnight?
And what if I told you I have found picture after picture of his face turned away, turned toward a crying little one that he is comforting,


Finally, when he is diagnosed with cancer and given a short time to live he embraces his family, friends and begins to talk, like never before. 
 He tells of his love, his faith to all who listen. 
He demonstrates that faith more wholly to his family by his subdued anger, perseverance. 
When he holds on for 3 years in unspeakable pain because he wants to be with them, be part of the party, not miss a minute,

Is this remarkable?

These are just a few of the memories I’ve mulled for weeks now. You have to be careful though because if you’re not paying attention you’ll miss the hidden hand in this picture of my Dad’s life.

Dad steamed through life, often getting it wrong before he got it right. The moments I listed are Dad getting it right. He often told me that he loved to hunt because God met him there amongst creation. I know God did because Dad had to be meeting God somewhere effecting the change in Dad so he could get it right.

There were many hard times with my Dad but what I think made him remarkable is how God met him and in  these encounters, he was changed.Dad went to heaven Monday evening and God was glad to bring home his transparent sinner.
I will miss my Dad, 

He was a man made remarkable by a remarkable God. 

You should know such a God.

I am grateful for all the remarkable moments:

That others miss him too and share in my loss.

A church where I can freely worship.

Quiet talks with The Man late in the eve.

A childhood friend who comes and is compassion and love and friendship.

Cool March day full of sun and wind.

Kids running in and out full of life and laughter.

Amazing members of the church body of Christ who open their homes, bring food, love and serve. I am overwhelmed by the love.

Family with stories that make me laugh and warm my bruised and battered heart.

Children who keep my electronics charged and up to date. A simple act of love in serving.