If you made it here - thank you for stopping by! DHK Creations & Publications, LLC is growing and it is way beyond time for me to start a personal blog (according to my co-founder!) so what better time to start a new blog than at Christmas of course! My hope for this blogging journey is that you are able to relate to something at some point, be encouraged in some area, learn something new, enjoy some fun recipes and get a glimpse into my heart behind the hustle along with a bit of what makes me - me!
Despite having a professional career where I have been in the public quite a bit over the years, I am an introvert. I crave quiet evenings in the arms of my husband watching a good movie. I love game nights with my family to the tune of our favorite music in the background, reading a good book by candle light, journaling and soaking up precious memories being made. This Christmas we are having a simple and sweet holiday at home. Christmas Eve will begin with a candle light service, followed by a day in the kitchen making a family favorite from scratch. We are making homemade red beef enchiladas and rice. On Christmas Day we have a honey glazed ham and all the fixings' planned after the kids see what Santa brought.
My childhood was memorable for sure. A lot of it was amazing. My relationship with my dad was non-existent. That was incredibly difficult. It was the opposite with my mom. We are still very close today. Even though my mom was a single mom and on one income, until I became an adult and she re-married, there was never a Christmas we didn’t have what we needed and most of what we wanted. She made sure every year was fun, exciting, magical and memorable! Sometimes my grandparents on her side would drive or fly in which made it even better. Christmas morning was perfect every year.
We celebrated Christmas Eve each year at my grandparent's on my dad’s side. This was the one time each year that everyone would drive in to visit at the same time, though some would travel in on occasion throughout the year. My dad was the youngest of 4 brothers. My uncles, aunts, cousins and sometimes friends would attend this traditional celebration that we all looked forward to. The house was adorned with Christmas decor throughout. Walking in on Christmas Eve meant my aunts and uncles laughing and giving giant hugs as soon as they saw us. They would be enjoying an adult beverage ranging from scotch to an assortment of wine over a bar of appetizers. My grandfather would be enjoying either a cigar or pipe, usually sitting in his chair with Andy, their poodle, sitting right beside him. Under the tree was completely covered with piles of gifts that grew as each family arrived. All of my cousins and I would peak at whose gift was whose before making our way outside to play.
When it came to dinner, it was always a huge meal we all cherished. Everyone typically brought their favorite dish and some were assigned things to bring because they made it so so good. Appetizers were the same. One aunt always brought the Chex Mix. One aunt the cheeseball. There would be a buffet of food that spanned the entire length of the bar. There were two tables that were always decorated so beautifully. One was the kids' table at the back of the den and the other was the adults' table in the dining room near the kitchen. We loved it. That meant the adults couldn't hear us catching up and cracking jokes about whatever and typically my brother was the crafter of said jokes LOL When you could smell the rolls that meant it was time to eat so we would gather, hold hands, pray then enjoy our meal. There would be times the adult table was quiet and then a burst of the loudest echoing laughter would bellow out by everyone which made us laugh! They most definitely had their own sarcasm and humor going on for sure.
After dinner you would think it would time for presents right? Nope. We would enjoy dessert first. After dessert did we get to open presents? Nope. We had to wait for every single dish to be washed. We used paper plate nothing mind you. It was all on the finest China so each piece would be carefully washed and dried. This was torture. TORTURE I tell you. We would be peaking over the bar to see if they were done and would only be half way leaving us thinking it would take FOREVER. In kids' time it was. For me personally, there was a mix of, "I can't wait to open presents," and "I don't want this night to end." It was so funny to hear my aunts and uncles picking on each other as they visited though. I remember sitting at the bar observing and seeing my Uncle L give my Aunt a kiss or my Uncle P wrap his arms around my Aunt K. Aside from my grandparents, that was my glimpse of two parents together. I remember thinking that as a little girl. My grandparents' laugh - I can still hear it now. It was contagious.
Once every dish was put away, it was time to make our way into the living room. The lights would be dim with only the Christmas tree lighting the room. We would all hold hands in a circle and sing, "Silent Night," acapella. I can't even put into words how memorable that was. It always made me tear up which embarrassed me. Now, as an adult, I look back and understand why. After we sang that we handed out gifts to one another and spent time showing everyone what we had gotten before it was time to call it an evening and say good-bye because it was time to go home in anticipation for Santa! My mom would pick us up and we would share with her all we got and tell her all of the funny or memorable moments we shared then head to bed. All I knew was that all evening at my grandparent's house - as memorable as it was - I always thought, "I can't wait to show mom this," or "I can't wait to tell her about this," and couldn't wait to get home. She was my constant. She was my safety net. She was my comfort. My dad was not. It felt fake. It felt temporary, because it was. Throughout the year he wanted nothing to do with me. I never understood why. I'd done nothing to deserve that. He hurt me on a deep level that will always be a scar.
At least on Christmas Eve I got one night a year where I felt like a daughter to him but I knew once that ended I wouldn't hear from him again. He would swing by to pick up my brother and I would be left crying at the glass door every time as they drove away. I was 6. He would call and talk to my brother but had to go when it was my turn. I was 7. My relationship with him was devastating most of the time and heartbreaking all of the time. I did spend a lot of time with my grandparents though and I'm grateful for that. My last child support payment was a check with "final payment," in the memo like I was a debt he had to pay off which was mailed in my birthday card. Seriously. This was 2 months before I graduated High School. I only saw him 3 times after that and he only lived 40 minutes away the entire time. The wounds never ended and they never got healed by him. He passed away from cancer a few years ago.
Christmas Eve growing up for me was a glimpse for one night what it would be like to have a dad. Then, with the last unwrapped gift, I knew it would come to an end. It always did. I never quite understood why either - at least not until I was older. It was a lot for a tiny daughter heart to carry. I do believe the reason I cried during Silent Night was because as I looked around seeing all of my aunts and uncles with their kids knowing each year they arrive and leave together because they were a family it broke my heart knowing my evening would end very differently every year and I know Jesus was holding me. He never left me. Not once. I could feel His presence and He knew how bad I was hurting and how bad I needed Him so He showed up during that song - His song - to remind me, "I've got you, daughter, I'm Here." How am I sure? I was young when I got saved and began journaling to Jesus very young too.
Christmas morning, on the other hand, was always incredible at home! Whether my mom was going through a hard time, had financial struggles or heartbreak of her own - we never saw it. She shielded us and protected us from that and made sure our celebrations were amazing. Was she perfect? No. Was my dad perfect? No. The difference is - she stayed. She was a parent every day, not just once a year. It didn’t take a ton of effort for my dad to “be a dad,” when it wasn’t his house, my grandparents bought the gifts to us from him and he disappeared the rest of the year. My mom did it all throughout the year. Every birthday was amazing. She made sure every Christmas was amazing. She cooked breakfast and played with us with the toys Santa brought. I'd cuddle up with her and watch a movie. Instead of dressing in my best, I could stay in my pj's with her all day if I wanted to! While yes, Christmas Eve was a big event, Christmas Day was even more special with her. I am so grateful. I'm grateful for her heart for comforting me. I'm grateful for the way she answered all of my questions I desperately needed answers to when it came to not understanding why he was the way he was with me. She didn't understand it either but would always say, "Honey he's doing the very best he knows how." It helped my tiny heart at the time but as an adult I call you know what on that because as a parent myself - I know he didn't.
Fast forward to today, I am so extremely grateful for my husband. Though we grew up differently, including even in different states, we wanted the same things when we had a family of our own. I am grateful for his heart for me and these kids. I am grateful he's a man that is a present husband and dad. He gets just as excited about Christmas as I do! When it comes to Christmas shopping - we make it a date every year. We celebrate with Santa, yet we make sure the kids know Christmas is to celebrate Jesus. We are doing our best to make as many fun memories as we can and are looking forward to a wonderful next couple of days and we hope you are able to do the same! For those of you that are in a difficult season and Christmas may be a hard time of year - we so get that. You are in our thoughts.
Our very first Christmas together as a family was in 2013. While I am telling you about how wonderful the holidays are now, it didn’t start out that way. Our first Christmas was extremely difficult. We had lost our son in late pregnancy December 3'rd right after I lost my best friend (and one who walked me in when we got married) in a car accident. We were very much in a state of shock. I was still recovering physically and was in a lot of pain with blood pressure spikes. Prior to my loss I was on a medication that would stop contractions etc. because I was already having them. That medication would not wear off for a couple of weeks so while yes I had endured labor and delivery, the medication was still very much active in my system so my normal post partem issues would not really begin for 2 weeks after that medication wore off. It pro-longed my recovery and made the worst part of what I would go through right at Christmas time. I was dehydrated, pale half the time and just struggling with the physical aspects but also the emotional trauma that had just happened. We’d both taken the day off work and went in for our gender ultrasound. There was no heartbeat. That entire day is still a blur. My state of shock began in that ultrasound room. My doctor knew of everything I’d been through and knew how devastating this was. He actually teared up with us and hugged me for the longest time. We did choose to do a biopsy but it was inconclusive.
My doctor believed it was due to insanely amounts of high stress. Again, before I told anyone what I had been going through in a previous life, he knew. That’s for another time - another story. Instead of leaving there ready to go pick out our first clothes for the baby, we were walking out shaking as I felt every woman in the waiting room could read me like a book - I was carrying my son for the last day. Instead of planning the day of which stores to go to and where we wanted to go celebrate for dinner, we were in a daze as we waited for the time to arrive that we would need to be admitted to the hospital to begin induction. Instead of the nurses taking the baby back and forth to the nursery, we were told take as much time as we need and the funeral home wheeled him out instead. Instead of leaving the hospital with our brand new baby boy, I was wheeled out with a bereavement box of the blanket he was wrapped in, his hat, measurements and my empty arms. Instead of picking out room decor, we had to stop by the funeral home to pick out his urn. Instead of his daddy being paranoid at every bump or car being within 100 feet of us driving home with the baby in the car for the first time, we drove home in tears, in silence, in disbelief, in shock in our own nightmare without him. Instead of introducing the kids to their baby brother, we had to explain that after all they'd already been through (another time/another story) death happens to babies which had never been exposed to them. Oh - this grief was too much to bare. If anyone questions why we 'sheltered in place?' It was out of survival mode. We didn't need people forcing their way in our lives, what we were going through was not about them, we needed prayer. This began a spiral of emotions and hurt we wouldn’t wish on anyone. It also began an internal battle with our faith that we never saw coming. God went after my husband in a big way, including a dream he had that shook him to his core. He knew it was from the Lord. That was what started our healing and mending. We never stopped loving one another. As much as we tried to end us, God said no. He had a legacy to build through us, cycles to break and generations to change.
You see, nobody tells you a perfect way to grieve. It’s going to hit different for everyone. There’s no step by step process for healing. That process is unique to each person, as is the timeline. We’ve heard the saying, “when you know, you know,” in reference to meeting the one person God made for you. When we met - we knew. We thought and even said out loud, “There’s nothing we can’t get through together because this is what true love is and we know that now because we realize nothing was before.” He was so sure about us that he literally turned away from a life that he wasn’t proud of living and said he was done with anything but us. He meant it. He felt as though because of his decision to get his life right he was being blessed with a wife, family and now a baby on the way. I felt as though because of my decision to recommit my life to the Lord and give my whole heart and devotion to trusting and loving when I was convinced that would never exist for me after what I’d already been through that this was His blessing over us. When we lost our baby - it rocked our faith - but in opposite directions. I was clinging to God knowing there is no way I could get through this without Him. My husband was angry at God and angry at me for wanting anything to do with this god, who he changed his entire life for, that would take this baby anyway that didn’t deserve that. My husband took this as punishment for the life he had been living. I took this as punishment for dating and the enemy used this grief to throw every insecurity we ever had in our faces from childhood on. We began to question everything. We began to believe the lies the enemy was feeding us.
This was a recipe for disaster. On the outside, it looked like any number of things. “They broke because they married too quick.” “They weren’t right for each other.” Who knows what was assumed, which was entirely inaccurate, and none of that mattered to God. We felt as though our marriage could not be repaired and it was 100% a spiritual battle not a lack of love. The enemy will use whatever he can to ruin your trust with God - including grief. If he can attack the head of household? The rest falls. He thought he won. God, though, He sure has His ways. He never needs anyone else’s permission either. We quickly became, “the 1 of 99,” and He wasn’t about to give us up. Not only did we close the chapter of hurt, but God began writing His own for our lives. He restored, healed, redeemed and molded our marriage into one He wanted for us that was way better than what we could’ve done ourselves. Today, not only do we celebrate Christmas because it’s traditionally what we do - but because Jesus has done SO much in our lives and home. With Him, we’ve broken cycles, we’ve recovered, we’ve healed, we’ve overcome and we don’t sugarcoat our testimony or journey to get here. As I continue blogging in here, while I hear him begin to read to the kids off in the living room, - I’m reminded - this man is a present, kind, hilarious dad and a devoted & kept husband. He didn't break out of not loving me. We didn't break because it was best. It was agony through grief we didn't know how to process, blaming God and not having an army of believers around us.
We only went a few weeks without communicating. The rest of the time communication was there but not healed. We were at our rock bottom. He was reverting back to his old life. I was clinging to God more than ever - Who by the way was clear, "I'm working on him." I was so hurt I was glad He was working on him but felt just fine with that work not including me. I was convinced he wanted his old life without God leading it and I refused to be apart of it. I had my heart and children's hearts to mend. New Year's Eve I spent in worship with church family from a previous town I'd lived in. My friend's son and former praise team member was leading worship at a huge conference. We were all watching live together. One song was played and it wrecked my heart and shattered my stubbornness. I hit my knees in prayer for this man like I'd never prayed before. I was crying out to God if this is His will please show me in a way I know it's from you because I can't get hurt again. I can't take it anymore. With my previous marriage? That needed to end. Another story for another time. I never to this day have ever cried over that. But this? This was too much. I realized how deep and true my love was for this man and prayed whether we are fixed or not please help him. I prayed that if we were going to work we have to both love you. I prayed that if God wanted me to keep hope for us together to show me or allow me to move on and I tried moving on. There was no peace in that. Just like my husband was angry at God for our loss. I was getting angry at Him for not letting me move on.
I remember my brother inviting me to go watch a movie that had just come out in theaters. I accepted the invite and drove over. My husband and I had communicated off and on and had gotten to a place it was cordial but not warm conversations. Our dogs had puppies and we talked about that as the puppies were only a couple of weeks old by this time. We'd lost one that I tried to save with him on the phone but I couldn't. That was tough. The evening I went to the movie I sat down after texting that I'd made it. He responded ok let me know when you are leaving. I thought in my angry spirit, "Why?" You left so why do you care? Every man in my life has not loved me, they've left, you did the same so why pretend? The bitterness was growing. The movie was called, "American Sniper," and if you've seen the movie you know that in the beginning they endure a loss of pregnancy. I remember thinking please don't let that happen please don't - and sure enough the scene happened and I thought I would burst out into tears right there. It was too soon for that. I politely told my brother, "Hey I'm out, I gotta go, I can't do this." He cleared his throat - I knew he was upset for me not knowing this scene would happen and said alright love you text me when you get home and I left. I sent my husband a text, "I'm headed home, ttyl." He responded, "Why what happened?" I ignored and kept driving. He continued to check on me and about 10 miles out of town I looked at my phone with 3 new messages so I pulled over and read them. I called him and let me tell you - we had the biggest, loudest argument I've ever had in my life. I let him know for the first time how bad he hurt me and how mad I was that I was having to grieve through this by myself because he left. I was bawling my eyes out. He was bawling his eyes out. We exploded and then? We didn't hang up without saying, "I still love you, I'm so sorry, I want to fix this but I don't know how." It started productive communication vs bitter or angry communication.
That New Year's Eve night changed everything for me. I ended the thoughts of moving on and began praying for the love of my life, praying that God reveal Himself to him, praying that if we were ever going to be restored that He be open to giving his life and heart to God and I would be obedient in waiting for as long as it takes because God said so. It wasn't long after that I get a text asking if I was busy and can I talk. He called and asked if he could come by. He had 2 dreams. One was with the kids and I. One later was one he knew he was fighting someone and woke up with fists clenched still. He thought at the time he must have been wrestling the enemy. He woke up with this complete change of heart that was unexplained and he was asking what am I doing?! I want to go home. He called, asked if we could talk and we did for hours. I told him, if you come home we are going to be in church every time the doors opened and you know what? We were. We had church family, we studied the Bible every evening, he led devotionals, he led prayers and he was the man of God I prayed for. God knew what He was doing in asking me to wait and be obedient. Through a sermon one morning, my husband was tearing up and grabbed my hand holding tight as if that helped the tears from falling. After church he said, "I know I wasn't wrestling the enemy in my dream now - I was wrestling with the Lord," and he broke down thanking God for what He had done. He realized the Lord allowed him to give all his anger and hurt to Him and He took it until He was so tired he surrendered so that God could start healing him. That's why he woke up the next day with this unexplained feeling of, "I gotta call her and tell her, I don't even know what I'm doing I just want to go home and fix this with them and God." (AND HE DID.)
What was assumed as "she changed his life," was not me at all. Only God could make him want to - because nothing I said, nor my prayers, were getting through to him. God gets all the credit on that one. What was assumed as, "now they are back together and don't want anything to do with anyone," was not the case at all. We were healing, mending, praying through, talking closely with church family and sometimes God isolates you to chisel you to His liking. He refines you. He purifies you. Just because this is not announced or even understood by outsiders doesn't mean it isn't happening. It may have looked like things were really negative. It was quite the opposite. God was getting ready to move in a mighty way because He knew we would need to protect our family from that which He saw ahead and we never could have predicted, and needed all ears on Him. We were clinging to one another and to Him like our lives depended on it - because they did. Not only did we need to protect our kids, but we found out that despite our efforts to avoid pregnancy for fear of enduring the same trauma, we were expecting. Now, according to my husband's words, "my job is protecting you and this baby from anything happening to you again. no matter what. you and these kids are my purpose." He meant every word. By the grace of God, God's Will was born healthy. Named because of God's will in our lives but ironically after my best friend too.
God never left us. Not once. Even when we turn away - He doesn’t leave. Even when we question Him or are angry at Him - He can take it! He wants a relationship over tradition. He wants our hearts, not our works. He wants to heal our brokenness and He is the only one that can.
Father God thank you for sending your Son the way you did. Thank you for loving like you do. Thank you for chasing after the "1 of 99," the way you do. Thank you for mending our hearts individually and simultaneously so that you could mend us together. Thank you for your will in our lives. We ask you to reveal what needs to be revealed, heal what needs to be healed and that your presence cover our homes. We ask that you continue to love and guide us in your Son's name. Amen.
I don't want to leave here without sharing a special recipe that I've made since the kids were little. Just like with most of our recipes, and with life and marriage, they've grown, evolved and gotten better over the years! This one is no exception and is a family favorite still.
Sopapilla Cheesecake
We add our own spin to this and we hope if you make it you enjoy it just as much!
What you'll need:
2 (8oz) packages of cream cheese, softened
1 3/4 TBSP vanilla extract
2 (8oz) refrigerated crescent rolls
1 tsp of cinnamon and 1 tsp of sugar mixed together (more can be used of course)
1/2 C of melted butter
2 12oz cans of cherry pie filling (optional)
Our spin on this common recipe? We mix a bit of cinnamon in the cream cheese mixture and we also top the cheesecake with cherry pie filling after taking it out of the oven!
You'll need to butter a 9*13 baking dish or coat lightly with cooking spray. Heat up your oven to 350 degrees.
Beat the cream cheese with 1 C of sugar, vanilla extract and a W. Crew dash of cinnamon in a bowl until smooth.
Unroll the crescent rolls and use a rolling pin to smooth out each one to a rectangle shape. Put 1 whole piece in the bottom of your baking dish pressing up the sides as well.
Evenly spread your cream cheese mixture in the dish then cover the top with the other whole piece of crescent roll.
Mix up 1 tsp of cinnamon and 1 tsp of sugar into 1/2 C of melted butter then brush on top which makes this the sopapilla part.
Bake in the oven until golden brown, usually 25-30 min. and then top with your cherry pie filling. Serve it up!
Merry Christmas! May God’s love illuminate your hearts and home.
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