whitney dziurawiec

Promise you’ll listen to this as you read? http://www.bobbykunkle.com/One.mp3 I started writing in my journal, and realized that I only have a few more pages left before I start a new one. And my heart sighed. Another journal. I remembered all that this journal entails. So many disappointments, fears, sins. I wrote through a lot of things. And honestly, I’m not so excited about writing another one. My hand was tired as I wrote. God, I’m not so sure I want another journal. As if stopping my journals will stop the heartache, waiting, and exhaustion life can bring. But I was listening to a friend’s piano music, what you should be listening to right now, and it sounds like falling in love and being reunited with an old friend and a beautiful snowfall all wrapped into four minutes of emotional music. And a sunrise. That too. And it brought tears to my eyes. So I got out old journals again. And I read old, weary phrases. Where are You? Why do I want so badly? I hate myse...

I’d like to start off this blog by apologizing for the previous one. Some times late-night blogs are good to me; other times…well, turn out like that. Sorry. I’ve been avoiding my time with Him today because I don’t like facing the same stuff I’ve been facing again, and my times with Him force me to get real. So I stole a movie my mom bought from the $5 bin at WalMart and called tonight one of my TARM (Try A Random Movie) nights. Usually these nights flop as badly as my previous blog (have you seen the movie The Box? You get the idea), but I try to remain optimistic. And I think we all know that me being optimistic is a success in and of itself, so I went for it. The movie was called The Pelican Brief, and I couldn’t get over the fact that there was the word “pelican” in the name. The whole time I was simultaneously waiting for pelicans to fly into the movie, and knowing that rarely do movie titles actually relate to the movie, especially artsy ones. Not that this was an artsy movi...

It’s one of those messy blog nights. I got home from work late and my head was about to explode. I needed one thing. I needed to run. It was 12:30 am and we have a treadmill in our basement. But I hate treadmills. So there I was at 1 in the morning, running through my dimly lit neighborhood. I am well past caring. I am sick of the heat restricting me, sick of people telling me what is safe and unsafe, and sick of feelings being bottled up that I just need to run off. So I ran. And some spider webs scared me, some bunnies made me jump, but I was fine. Absolutely fine. No one raped me, no drunk people harassed me. And maybe God provided a special layer of protection for me tonight because He knew I absolutely needed this, but I am positive I was completely safe the whole time. My friend wrote me a letter today venting her feelings and just letting it all out. I’m jealous of her. I wish I could write it all out. But every time I try, I stare at my blank page in confusion and realize...

Today my kids and I pretended it was Christmas. Sometimes you just have to ignore some things, I’ve found out. Sometimes the weather is unbearable and when I’m not quite ready to face it, I blast Christmas music and close the shades. I told my kids I hoped the roads would be plowed by the time I had to drive home. We were flirting with the line of delusion and we were loving it. Today a friend messaged me on facebook and asked me how I was doing, what He was doing in me, how things were going. It’s weird how we don’t ask people that question anymore. I haven’t been asked how I’m doing in months, and I haven’t asked anyone how they are doing in just as long. And so this long-lost art of asking was displayed to me and I didn’t know how to respond. How am I doing? Uhhh…I don’t quite know. Part of me wanted to run to the windows and close the shades, or run to my iPod and blast the CHRISTMAS playlist. But in the end, I just got real. And instead of some Christian answer I could have easi...

I’m getting my hair to match my life tomorrow: twisty and crazy. Yes, people, for the first time in my life, things are going to match….I think that’s a sign of getting old. Shoot. Sleep likes to taunt me, and party planning is completely more overwhelming than I thought it would be. And the boys…so many boys. All the non-confusing ones must be really good at hiding. All at once, I’m thinking about what texts & phone calls mean, I’m thinking about how we are going to set up the tables for the party, I’m wondering what in the world I’m going to do for my first Toilet Talk, I’m praying fervently for the girl in my youth group whose dad has a week to live, I’m hoping I find something to do with my boring twins, I’m worried about if I’m going to have time to work out, and praying that I can sleep well that night. My hair is too straight and smooth for times like this. Thank goodness for my aunt, she is taking on a huge load . Do you have table cloths? Whitney you NEED table cloth...

Oh, hi. I'm confused. And no words are coming to mind. So....yeah.

I had a dream last night that I was pregnant and about to give birth. The father of my child? You don’t even want to know. I’ll give you a hint: he’s a ginger. I’ll give you another hint: the zoo. I don’t know how the whole story unfolded (or how I would let a human being like that impregnate me), but there I was, sitting in the hospital. About to pop. My family surrounded me, but Mr. Ginger Snap was nowhere to be seen. There was no man there, actually. I ran through the hospital trying to find this other boy to beg to be the father of my child, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t care. So there I was, letting my mom hold my hand as I demanded my epidural. It was like my worst fear. The whole kids thing is not my favorite thing to look forward to, and the only thing I know that would make it bearable would be having the man I married be there with me. But this dream was the exact opposite of that. Pregnant with no husband. This is nightmare material, ladies and gentlemen. Last night, be...