Author Archives: Tamara Dawn

About Tamara Dawn

I'm just a glorified female wearing many hats. Mother of 3 very energetic, exhausting and entertaining boys. A bleeding heart, a bionic/iconic fe(IRON)male(MAN :)) who is out to change the world for the better and maybe even share and bake cookies and be a pseudo Martha Stewart (Minus the White Collar Jail time) in Pam Anderson's body kinda gal... that's the gist of me.

Stewing and Faith

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TO STEW: Informal. A state of agitation, unease, worry.

FAITH: Confidence and trust in God.

Have you ever stifled your emotions for so long that when you finally realized the need, you failed to know where to begin to reduce the numbness of it all? I sit here this morning, with so much to say but that stale bile from my thoughts have taken up space in my heart, residing comfortably as I fail to know how to evict it. Perhaps in lieu of all the other outlets, some not so healthy, I choose to spew my thoughts on here.

How does one relieve themselves from the walking hell that is a product of ones emotions, environment and circumstances? When does it get better? When does the absolute insanity of other people’s shortcomings stop invading our lives and those of our children? Why is it that someone I love with all of my heart, a good and decent man, is continually punished by his past with no end of the grievances in sight? When does it stop? Why is it that the ones with faith, love for the Lord and their fellow man are the ones in constant struggle and depression for their unending circumstances. It is an infinite, whirlwind of manipulations, battles of wits, laws, and red taped games. And I’m exhausted by it all. I am tattered with no fight left in me.

I hang onto my faith by a thread, a frayed thread, but a golden one nonetheless- the strongest thread that has ever been created.  I keep telling myself how He’s never failed me yet. That these times will pass and there’s a silver lining somewhere if I look hard enough. That’s the only thing I have to survive this beautiful, crazy, redundant yet fulfilling life that I have for but a moment in time, BUT it is enough. I am enough, HIS grace is enough…And as I am writing this, His love has washed over me in comforting calmness dissipating the weight that I have carried so silently all along. Amazing how faith and frustration can bring Him calling to my heart and my soul. He knows my heart, my every thought regardless of it being good or horrible and He still comes to rescue my soul and my fears from myself.  “Oh ye of little faith…” Yes, Lord. I know. How silly I get sometimes.

It feels good to let it out, let it go and give it to you. Tomorrow is a new day and I have you to help us through whatever anyone or anything throws at us. In a world full of unknowns, horrors, trials, tribulations and demons, I know we are safe by the comfort of your never ending, never failing love. Sometimes we all need that reminder from you as I tend to do it all on my own, I get reminded that I shouldn’t and I cant. By your grace alone we can conquer this life for Your glory.

I will pray for those who test us and attempt to break what we have built together in Your name. For one day, they will have to answer to You for their misdeeds and crimes against Your children. How beautiful it is to be Your child. I know our trials are but another thread that we must use to build our tapestry of testimony. And I know that it will be beautiful when it is finished, even with my golden thread that is frayed here and there. For You are my Saving Grace in the darkness, Lord. Thank you for humbling me and taking in my doubts and fears, so that I can continue on with the eyes of a child and the resilience of a soldier.

So instead of stewing my heart away, I am reborn yet again in Christ’s love. Faith renewed and joy restored. Funny how He works, isn’t it?

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Abundant Blessings: The light at the End of the Tunnel

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It was Veterans Day, I felt it weighing down my heart and was ready to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. I had to bring flowers to Dad’s grave. The day before marked exactly 6 months since he passed away on the Montana ridge line. I knew it was going to be a bad day, I had felt the tears gearing up deep in my chest since I woke up that morning. I shoved them down and made coffee as James had to work and I had the day off. It was definitely going to be a bad day.
Daddy was a Marine, Vietnam Veteran and a First Sargent in the National Guard. Our family WAS Military. He was the now dying breed of the “Good Ol’ Boys,” Men of Honor and The Family Provider. He made damn sure that we were raised to respect our troops and elders. He INSTILLED in us that respect and I am grateful for him raising us kids in the manner that he did. With that said, that morning I knew only three things: I had to visit Dad, I couldn’t go alone, and it was going to be a bad day.
I resumed my day off that morning with taking care of my sick kids, cleaning the house and trying not to think until every room was spotless. All done in vain for all I could do was think, be sad, angry and bitter. Finally when I couldn’t take anymore, I texted my sister “I am going to visit Dad’s grave…”       deep breath. I had that overwhelming grief wash over me as I was typing “Grave.”  The reality of it, the finality of it, the sadness. Daddy is gone, he’s not even in the cemetery, that wasn’t my Pop. Hes just not here anymore. I hear Dad’s famous words “Suck it up, Cupcake. You’re not a sissy, you can do this,” wipe my tears, breathe again,  and finish it with ” Will you come with me?” My loving sister replies instantly, “Yes, I’ll be there. What time?”  And we’re off.
I went to pick out flowers at Fred Meyer and found hydrangeas exactly like the ones he planted at the ranch. Dad loved flowers, planting them abundantly all around the ranch for my Mom. He loved her with all of his soul, wholeheartedly that he built her a rose garden under white terraces on their 5 acres. The hydrangeas were perfect. I picked my sister up and we made our way to the cemetery. It was rainy and misty up there, almost like something out of a movie. I envisioned us in black and white or a dull sepia color amongst the graves, no color, just death and dull… it was that surreal. We stood at Dad’s grave under the birch tree overlooking the town, the birch tree was exactly like the one dad planted in our front yard of the Clarey house growing up. I looked at it longingly, remembering the happiness spent around the Clarey house birch tree, smack dab in the middle of the front lawn. What a difference between the two… there’s the bitterness again. I swallow it down and hug my sister. We cleared off the headstone as the autumn leaves were fully free of their branched cages leaving the tree’s skeletal frames. Thus adding to the ugliness of the surroundings.I don’t recall how long we were up there, only the silence setting in at first, then the memories, then the tears and then the laughter through the tears. My beautiful sister ended our visit with prayer. Prayers for our Mom, our family, prayers to get us through our lives without Dad in his human form.  My bad day turned into bittersweet as I had gotten through it with my sister.

I am blessed because even though my Pop is gone and not of this world any longer, but in Heaven, I have pieces of him that are still alive and well in my sisters and my brother. In fact the other day my brother walked in my door, a cup of coffee in his hand, and he looked like the spitting image of my Dad. It warmed my heart and reminded me that Dad will show through when he needs to. He raised us to stick together and that’s exactly what we’re doing. “At least we’re all together,” As Mom would chime in the bad times. And we are.

Shonna told me up on the hill “It’s been a shitty year, sis, but next year is going to be a good one.” She is right. I know I can speak for everyone in my family, this has been the worst year in our entire lives. It will continue to be the worst year of our lives through the holidays until this horrible year is over. But next year? Next year will be the healing year, it will be the new beginnings year, our new memories year. Why do I say that? Because we have my Dad as our Guardian Angel and he’s already worked wonders in our lives. For instance,  I am engaged to Dad’s favorite guy… ever.  He loved James and always told me that I needed a cowboy in my life. And things between us have never been better. There’s Dad shining through again and blessing me with what he always wanted for me and my boys: a good man, an honorable man, a Godly man. He is all of those things and I know Pop is smiling down on us as we work through the beginning of our journey together.

We actually had our engagement photos done this past weekend and in one picture(the one with me in James’ cowboy hat) You’ll see a lot of my Dad peeking through and when my sister saw that photo, she commented on it saying “You finally got the happiness you deserve.” Yep, I sure did. Thanks Pop.

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Thoughts for the Day

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Blog Block

Or technically not.

I think the issue is that I have so many things that I want to creatively spew and celebrate and rant and rave that I’m like a sugar fueled child at Disneyland with no boundaries or parent supervision. Goodness. I started three blogs this morning only to hit cancel and have my “Mean Girl” inner voice tell me “No one will care about that crap, Tami. Scratch it and move on. Dance little monkey, DANCE!!!” Seriously, my “mean girl” AKA the devil part of my subconscious is a huge B—-, sometimes. She always likes to put me down.

Blogging is addicting. I have met and discovered the beauty of other’s words this past week. It makes you feel alive as you embark upon an otherwise unknown trip by reading the woven tapestry of words that were put forth by someone’s soul. It’s an astounding window to another view on life. I love it.

Seriously though, here I am. I made the commitment to blog everyday this month. I’m grateful that I did it because I have missed writing, but I cant help but be apprehensive over it. I am 31 years old, I have been through good times and horrible times, loss and love, and here I still stand, a bit wiser… well, for the most part I hope!  I have plenty to say, to share, but I guess I fear that no one will care to listen.

As soon as I accepted the NoBloPoMo challenge I froze and all I could hear in my head was the Plato quote “Wise men speak because they have something to say, fools because because they have to say something.” And here comes that Mean Girl again- “Yep, Tam, you’re a fool. No one cares. You’re only good when you work on a piece, not when you just spew it out on your lunch hour.” She does a great “Carrie” impression too, “They’re all gonna laugh at you!” Wow, it truly does hit home that you can and most certainly will be your own worst enemy, doesn’t it?

This is my beautiful space to be the perfectly imperfect me. My creative outlet, my therapy, my “Woosah-Happy” place I spoke of in my first blog. A place for you, my readers, to know me(imperfect remember? Keep that in mind.) and to embark on my vision, my window to my world, my experiences, the pieces of my heart and a bit of my soul all mixed together.

So not only is this my shared journey with you, it is my way of resounding my wisdom and experiences from my life. Down the road I will share of my single Motherhood adventures, my Tomboy country memories, that one time I nearly got ran over by a train in the middle of the night in the Guatemalan jungle, Paris in the Springtime, that one time I was a recording songwriter, domestic violence, my servants heart and so many others that I haven’t even touched upon here. All semi untold stories of yours truly. I cant wait to share them with you.

I will hit publish and have my piece for the day and you know what? It’ll be good, because I’m sharing the words to my soul. It’s not perfect, it’s me and my imperfections, my deficiencies, but even when we feel not good enough, it shows courage and a step toward progress when you do it anyway. Agreed? Good. Me too 🙂

30 Days, 30 Posts: NaBloPoMo

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National Blog Posting Month

I accept.

I miss writing so very much and believe it or not, I used to be quite good at it! I know it’s so hard to believe, but I am extremely rusty (note my sarcasm here.) My 400 level writing classes at the University were amazing and fulfilling, however it has been many many years since then. Yikes! View the link below if you accept this challenge as well. We will be in it together 🙂

Good luck! And email or comment below if you accept this fun challenge so we can enjoy your creativeness! I’m still new at this blogging thing 🙂

30 Days, 30 Posts: NaBloPoMo is here!.

“Grandpa teases me all the time, Mom”

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It’s been almost 6 months since that fateful knock on the door. I’ll never forget the look on my brother and my sisters face when I opened my door. All I remember is asking “What happened?” All I remember them saying is “Dad is gone.” Then I remember them hugging me, my knees buckling and someone (maybe me?) saying “No, no, no…”

I’d like to say that it gets easier everyday. I’d like to say that I’ve moved past the anger and bitterness of having my Pop ripped from my life and my sons lives at the ripe, young age of 65. I’d like to say that I don’t cry everyday anymore, but I would be lying a big fat lie. Our family which used to be one very strong unit is incomplete and still reeling in the grief and the change. I’m dreading the holidays. We are spending them together as a family. That is all we know. The only thing that will get us over this hump that is the next 2 months, is by being together. We always made fun of Mom growing up because whenever anything went wrong (like the car breaking down in the middle of nowhere at night with 4 kids and 2 golden retrievers) she would be quoted as saying “At least we’re all together.” We would mimic her, rolling our eyes as we said it in her sugary sweet and optimistic tone. Now it’s been our mantra since May, but worded a bit differently; “At least we’re all together… except for Dad… he’s gone… in Heaven… you cant hear his voice or feel his hugs anymore because he’s gone-forever.” Just doesn’t sound like it did back in my carefree childhood days- the one where Dad was always a phone call away, ready with his wisdom, good advice, a hug and always a smart ass comment. It’s hard to let that sink in, to have it envelope your identity and to move on from saying “Mom and Dad” or “Grandma and Grandpa” to just “Mom” or “Grandma.” My hardest adaption is reverting anything pertaining to my dad to past tense. He was, not is. He used to, not does. It’s also like reliving that fateful day when I get asked about him from someone either knowing he passed or not knowing, in the end it’s all the same and hurts the same. He was well known around here, so a simple trip to the grocery store always has the possibility of ending with me leaving in tears due to those encounters. Almost 6 months and I still get those questions. I dread those more than the holidays and tend to avoid locals like the plague.

I picked up my son Conner from school today. He made me smile as he spotted my car from across the parking lot. He waved and grinned his huge Fahey grin. When we Faheys smile, our whole face scrunches up and our eyes disappear into our heads- he has the Fahey smile. I’m so thankful for that because sometimes I can see my Dad in his little face, especially that little twinkle in his eye. He looks like a mini clone of my Pop at times.  As he got into the car, we did our usual “How was school” discussion while I’m driving him to his after school class. He looks at me and says his old friend was at school. Well, I know quite well after speaking with this friend’s Mom when we moved that so and so does not go to Con’s new school. I ask Conner if he’s fibbing, he smiles his Fahey smile… “Mom I’m teasing like Grandpa teases me all the time.” I was a bit taken back as today was an okay day and I had only been sad a few times this morning thinking of Dad. Conner doesn’t normally open up too much about his Grandpa. I think it’s because I always well up with tears when he brings Dad up, even though I try to hide them, he’s a smart kid and doesn’t like to see me sad.  So, taking a big breath after being caught off guard I reply “Oh really, Conner? So Grandpa is teasing you from Heaven then?” “Yeah Mom, sometimes I hear his voice in my head teasing me like he used to. He’s pretty funny and he tells me that he watches over me and you and our whole family. We get to see him when we go to Heaven. Did you know that? That’ll be cool, huh Mom?” Ouch, here comes the grief, that overwhelming sense of loss and sadness. Thankfully I was stopped at a red light when he told me this. All I could do was look out my window and let the tears fall while softly nodding and answering with my tears hidden from him “Yes son, that would be wonderful.”  I wish I could be so accepting of Dad’s death like my son is.

My 6 year old taught me an invaluable lesson today in which I am certain was sent from my Dad and Jesus. Through the eyes of my son, it’s as easy as this; Grandpa died, but he’s an Angel, our Guardian Angel. He is still here if you look around and notice the little signs or listen to the little voice that pops into your head and your heart sometimes. He’s in Heaven and we are still here, but one day we will all be together again and it’s going to be “cool.”

Thanks Pop ❤Image

It’s been a long time…

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Sometimes I wish I were the Dreamer I used to be, the writer with words flowing through my brain like a symphony at all hours of the night, every minute of the day. Somehow I lost all of that. I chalk it up to being the busy, working mother on a constant ride of homework, baths, housework, actual work, meal making, redundancy and being the chaos tamer. How many of us relate to that Pinterest Pin? “All these Moms are on Pinterest making their own soap and rainbow pasta, and I’m all like, I took a shower and kept the kids alive-GO ME!” I feel ya! I hear ya! Some days it is a blessing to get 5 minutes alone, let alone be able to go to the bathroom without little feet or hands poking under the door while yelling “Mom, Mom, Mooo-oom…” That’s where I lost it. Kids. It’s my own fault though because I know if I can juggle my time more productively, I can get my release, my “woosah-happy place.” I feel more complete when I write, more in tune with my surroundings and desires, most importantly, more in tune with myself- the Woman, the Human, the Goddess, the Lover…not the butt wiper, and nose blower.  And lets face it, when Momma is happy, everyone is HAPPY! So here I begin my first attempt at blogging. My first attempt at trying to reconnect with that doe-eyed 20 year old that knew oh so much about everything in the world. Sometimes I miss her and her utter brazenness, sometimes I laugh at her naivety, but she was who formed the woman I am today, the Mother I am, and the future Wife that I will become. Here’s the to the beginning of a new journey, a journal of thoughts, conflicts, humor, memories and happiness. It feels good to be back.