What I didn’t realize was that instead of preaching the Gospel to myself all those years staying home with my kids, I preached a different anthem.
“Growth looks like...nothing.” These words had me murmuring yeses and amens when my friend Breanne spoke them. Most of the time growth doesn’t announce itself, it doesn’t look like anything in particular on any given day. Like that old cliche about faith and the wind….you can’t see it but you can feel it. Well with growth...you usually don’t see it or feel it until you are forced into a situation that requires your growth to come into play, and then it kiiiinnnnddd of looks like something.
For me, growth kinda looks like an abandoned dirty kitchen at 7:40 a.m. on a weekday.
Today there will be many feelings. But this is your baseline: They are ready. They are, they really are ready for this. And so are you. There will be a moment (maybe a few) when you think…
I could easily worship while I folded laundry and swept up the sand that tracked in from outside. I love cleaning our home, it serves our family. I can worship while I do that. I can wipe down the counters. While I’m at it I can plan for my week of work and map out my list of to-dos. I can consult the calendar.
But I can’t sit still. I can’t BE still.
This isn’t worship at all. This is bondage.
I've been reading through Mark real slowly, one could say I'm marinating in it (on it?). And I'm blown away by the things I didn't know or didn't stop to think through before. First of all, I'm not totally sure if I have ever read Mark. If I have it was once upon a summer camp high when I decided to read the entire New Testament every year, and then never finished.
I put a handy little poll on my Instagram and apparently....
Dear One,
You can stop now. Stop the striving. Stop the planning. Stop the strategizing and the squeezing things in. You can say no. You don't have to prove you're strong and reliable, not even to yourself. Can I tell you a really scary truth?
It's a funky time for women's Christian culture isn't it? It seems like everyone is building a platform and social media followers and blogs, podcasts, ebooks, books, handmade things, and hustling galore.
Well I'm done.
You are here. Right now.
If I’m being really truly honest, here isn't a place I'm enjoying…and I know it’s kind of icky to read a mom say that…it’s icky to be the mom who feels it. Oh wouldn’t I love to be floating on cloud of motherly contentment with this season! But this season of motherhood is just hard and so tiring. Wouldn’t it be delightful if enchantment for every single season of life just naturally swelled in us and flowed out of us? Instead, I’ve been fighting, sometimes spitting mad, against this season and I’m exhausted…so I’m done. I’m done fighting it. I’m here. Here is where I am right now, today.
Accepting this basic condition of my reality means admitting an ugly truth to myself and even more so to the Giver of Life. Facing the nasty brass tacks of my sinfulness, yet again, I found mercy and grace on the other side. And that brings me here, to all of you, because I have this little inkling that maybe…just maybe I’m not the only one digging my heels in and demanding to be somewhere else past or future but this present place just isn’t my cup of tea.
Although for the country as a whole 2016 was a big ole bummer, for our family it was really amazing. But there was something missing all year.
“Please. Just don’t give up on Jesus” the Mennonite minister begged through tears after his son confided in him that he was gay. That was the father’s biggest concern: don’t give up on Jesus. Those words reverberated through my mind and my heart for weeks. No matter what changes, what is lost, what is found: please don’t give up on Jesus.
I catch myself in these terribly cliche moments of momstering on the drive to church and I hate it. So this year, with the onset of varying school drop off schedules, pick up lines for dayzzz, bible study mornings, MOPS, and my part time job, I couldn't continue in my frantic ways. Something had to change, so I've taken up a new spiritual practice.
The week leading up to my 30th birthday was turbulent. I tried to process as I went through the week, but my process ended up being much more of a stagger through potholes of fear and over molehills of hope than the gradual and steady churning and muling I’d been wishing for.
Again, before I can even catch my breath from the last thing. After reading the most recent news I went outside with my coffee and watched my kids run through the sprinklers, completely oblivious to the sadness in the world around them. I sat there I stared off and thought, “Can good really make a dent against all this evil?”
When what has been, becomes past
When what was awaited, arrives
When the heart is set free to linger and love and hold on
When the waiting and the work bear Hope's seedlings
When Future has leeway to grow wildly and without restraint
And when Rest dwells and decants and generously satisfies
Then, you're home
But even just the idea of hustling harder makes me exhausted. And this is exactly the place my husband found me in as we talked about that one little comment about my life when I just sort of lost it. Because I was already struggling to “mom” with joy and peace, it was as if this person said to me “The world took a vote and we all think that all that hard work you do--it’s really just kind of a joke. It’s not real work, it’s not hard, and we’d like you to just stay in your corner of the world, cause also you and your kids are loud and obnoxious.”
It was the last straw.
And then this morning I took a few minutes to read and think about Christ being dragged to an unfair trial (talk about injustice, violence, and human rights) and then murdered after being tortured and humiliated in front of crowds of people.
I felt deeply, but not mournfully per-say.
When we moved here we were looking for a church home and we attended lots of churches to find the right one.
When you become a mom it’s like the last little bit of selfishness that you managed to hide or disguise from your spouse gets eradicated and put on display.
Can I just be super honest with you? I'm a momma who is crazy busy (and that’s just so rare and hard to find these days: a busy adult) just keeping everyone alive and keeping permanent markers and scissors out of toddler's hands.
I need a breather from this Heart Series on the blog.
Not because I'm too busy, not at all. I hope I'm never too busy to simply write.
I just need my soul to breathe and keep the past in the past for a little bit. Cause writing about hard times is....well, hard.
"I'm just mad. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at God."
"I just thought--I really believed that the finish line would be worth it. I've been waiting and banking everything on the finish line being worth it."
Our car pointed west, we entered the I-80 on ramp and just like that Iowa was a part of our past.
This is where I start. This is where our story unfolds for the glory of the Almighty God. Last night, I made the grave mistake of getting my news via Facebook and I closed my browser feeling frankly, less human. Or I guess....more human, that disgusting, depressing, depraved part of my flesh--that's what my Facebook newsfeed highlighted. I went on with my night with a looming sense of "What can be done?"
This Father's day was a little more emotional and meaningful for Austin and me. We've felt so grateful for all of our parents and now that the storms in our life have cleared a bit we are just filled with overwhelming thanksgiving.
Over the past several months I've thought so much on the topic of suffering and I've learned SO much firsthand. Recently as I was studying through 1 Peter a cross reference led me to Isaiah 53. When I read through it, Isaiah 53:5 was like a beacon, a flag of truth bringing me home from a long and treacherous journey.
What I didn’t realize was that instead of preaching the Gospel to myself all those years staying home with my kids, I preached a different anthem.
“Growth looks like...nothing.” These words had me murmuring yeses and amens when my friend Breanne spoke them. Most of the time growth doesn’t announce itself, it doesn’t look like anything in particular on any given day. Like that old cliche about faith and the wind….you can’t see it but you can feel it. Well with growth...you usually don’t see it or feel it until you are forced into a situation that requires your growth to come into play, and then it kiiiinnnnddd of looks like something.
For me, growth kinda looks like an abandoned dirty kitchen at 7:40 a.m. on a weekday.
Today there will be many feelings. But this is your baseline: They are ready. They are, they really are ready for this. And so are you. There will be a moment (maybe a few) when you think…
I can’t deny that with a deep sense of satisfaction and some relief, there also lingers a guttural melancholy. There’s a particular sense of sadness when a goodbye is permanent which throbs in my stomach when I sit still. An overarching sense that says, “This is right. It’s time to move forward.” reverberates through my bones, and yet….
I wish someone had told me that not only is it impossible to be the “everything” woman, but it’s boring. The best thing, the very best thing about growing into new seasons is that YOU get to experience it. You get to see what YOU are like as a career woman, what YOU are like as wife, what YOU are like as a mom.
One of the most giant realizations I’ve had and embraced about myself lately is that I’m a salty mom. That’s who I am.
All the special magic of my writing morning has been sucked dry and replaced with the realization that every white girl in here has the same pair of beige booties that I do and I’m hungry and tired and running out of minutes every minute.
You are here. Right now.
If I’m being really truly honest, here isn't a place I'm enjoying…and I know it’s kind of icky to read a mom say that…it’s icky to be the mom who feels it. Oh wouldn’t I love to be floating on cloud of motherly contentment with this season! But this season of motherhood is just hard and so tiring. Wouldn’t it be delightful if enchantment for every single season of life just naturally swelled in us and flowed out of us? Instead, I’ve been fighting, sometimes spitting mad, against this season and I’m exhausted…so I’m done. I’m done fighting it. I’m here. Here is where I am right now, today.
Accepting this basic condition of my reality means admitting an ugly truth to myself and even more so to the Giver of Life. Facing the nasty brass tacks of my sinfulness, yet again, I found mercy and grace on the other side. And that brings me here, to all of you, because I have this little inkling that maybe…just maybe I’m not the only one digging my heels in and demanding to be somewhere else past or future but this present place just isn’t my cup of tea.
I catch myself in these terribly cliche moments of momstering on the drive to church and I hate it. So this year, with the onset of varying school drop off schedules, pick up lines for dayzzz, bible study mornings, MOPS, and my part time job, I couldn't continue in my frantic ways. Something had to change, so I've taken up a new spiritual practice.
The week leading up to my 30th birthday was turbulent. I tried to process as I went through the week, but my process ended up being much more of a stagger through potholes of fear and over molehills of hope than the gradual and steady churning and muling I’d been wishing for.
They weren't perfect and they grieved through various emotions, but they let us grieve with them and up close, so close that I also felt their confidence in God's goodness in a way I had never experienced before.
I finally understand why every mom is being all sappy and sentimental and squeezing her kids extra tight this time of year, whether they are graduating preschool (which I mean, I still don’t believe that’s a real thing, wouldn’t promoting out of preschool be better verbiage?) or graduating from high school. There’s this desire to “Stop This Train,” and I honestly did not see all these emotions coming, but man are they are coming in strong.
But even just the idea of hustling harder makes me exhausted. And this is exactly the place my husband found me in as we talked about that one little comment about my life when I just sort of lost it. Because I was already struggling to “mom” with joy and peace, it was as if this person said to me “The world took a vote and we all think that all that hard work you do--it’s really just kind of a joke. It’s not real work, it’s not hard, and we’d like you to just stay in your corner of the world, cause also you and your kids are loud and obnoxious.”
It was the last straw.
I chopped our grocery bill in half and some months even cut it by two-thirds. I don’t clip coupons, I don't shop at more than two stores per trip, and I don’t jump through hoops. I have three little bitty kids, I need a system that WORKS without adding more stress to my life. My new shopping method has revolutionized our budget and today I’m going to share that method with all of you.
Being a mom is hard. It’s just a fact. It’s wonderful and it’s hard. But being a mom, just like everything else in my life, is something that God IS helping me in. And just like in the other parts of my life, when I’m still I can recognize God’s leading. I know we all need to commiserate and have a safe place to be “real” and “raw” and I love being that place here on the blog. As a friend recently said “We’re all just kind of losing our crap and trying to get our crap together.” It’s so true.
So much of being a mom is about endurance and I so easily forget that God wants to grow me in the midst of it. Not through, around, or out of it. God wants me to grow IN IT.
For various reasons that are unrelated to this story--just know that I had gone on this really sweet (and much needed bonding time after a bad week) walk with my kids and the subject of elderly people being sick came up.
When you become a mom it’s like the last little bit of selfishness that you managed to hide or disguise from your spouse gets eradicated and put on display.
Line drying our clothes was probably the first introduction I had of living slowly and surely. ...Recently though I’ve seen this slowness creep into more of my life. From household chores to Christmas gifts to fashion, even with blogging— my approach is becoming slower and more sure.
I don't even know how to start, cause once I say this I can no longer control whether or not you still see me as the calm, cool, collected blogger you now see me as (right? Right? just play along and let's all pretend that's my online persona). Once I admit this you might see me as a sad, pathetic, needy woman who doesn't understand personal dignity in correlation with the internet.
Or.
Or maybe you will just say what I suspect lots of us are saying: "Yea, me too."
Today I woke up, I read my advent reading, I thought about what the kids would wear for the Christmas Eve service, and then my nose started running, and my throat more than tingled...it ached. By the time Austin left it started getting that old familiar feeling. My perfect Christmas Eve was obliterated by sickness. I would love to tell you I took it all in stride and that I found I had not set any mommy expectations, but that would not be at all true.
Two days ago I found myself drowning in the waters of a bad day. I mean...such a bad day. It was a constant spiral down as my four year old had meltdown after meltdown for seemingly no reason at all. That followed by this *two thumbs pointing at me* stellar mom following suit by having her own meltdowns to battle said four year old's meltdowns. By the time my poor poor husband came home it was "Snappy this and snappy that. You really should have run for it when you had the chance after work. Good luck smiling in this house." K, that's not an exact quote, but it was my basic premise for the night.
Sometimes I use this blog as my place to simply shout from the tech-age mountaintops that God is who He says He is and He does what He says He will do! And today, friend, is one of those days.
It's Christmas time again! It seems like that can't possibly be true, but it is. This year after hearing my two year old daughter say "It's Christmas time!....Where's my present?" I've been determined to curb their thinking and make this Christmas about Jesus. However, I really struggle with this myself because like most of the moms across America...I have ridiculously high expectations about the magic of Christmas with my family. So I want to curb my thinking as well because with my expectations set to Hallmark proportions, we are all doomed to failure.
I’m crazy excited to introduce y’all to my dear dear friends Camie and Steve Risinger. Camie can be found over at LuxeWise where she and her lovely team help all of us with fun fashion and beauty tutorials while they teach that beauty goes far deeper than what the eye beholds. We have been close to Camie and Steve since 2007 when Austin was in ministry with them. Since then there have been two weddings and SIX babies born (all within three years of each other, that’s no joke). About a year and half ago Austin and I saw our friends become different people, we felt like we saw a death ridden, zombie like form of them and we knew that it was more than just newborn baby sleep deprivation. Since that time, we have seen them cross back into light and walk in joy and love. Even just looking at posed pictures of them, the difference is glaringly obvious. They have a story of pain and healing, sorrow and hope. I’m deeply grateful that they are willing to honestly share their story to glorify Christ and his message of love, reconciliation, healing and peace.
"Buddy, I love you, but you can't hit your sister."
"Fletchie, I love you, but you can't climb that."
"Lily girl, I love you, but you can't scream at us that way."
Recently someone mentioned that as parents we often say the phrase "I love you, but..." and how incorrect that is.
I wish someone had told me that not only is it impossible to be the “everything” woman, but it’s boring. The best thing, the very best thing about growing into new seasons is that YOU get to experience it. You get to see what YOU are like as a career woman, what YOU are like as wife, what YOU are like as a mom.
One of the most giant realizations I’ve had and embraced about myself lately is that I’m a salty mom. That’s who I am.
All the special magic of my writing morning has been sucked dry and replaced with the realization that every white girl in here has the same pair of beige booties that I do and I’m hungry and tired and running out of minutes every minute.
“Please. Just don’t give up on Jesus” the Mennonite minister begged through tears after his son confided in him that he was gay. That was the father’s biggest concern: don’t give up on Jesus. Those words reverberated through my mind and my heart for weeks. No matter what changes, what is lost, what is found: please don’t give up on Jesus.
The week leading up to my 30th birthday was turbulent. I tried to process as I went through the week, but my process ended up being much more of a stagger through potholes of fear and over molehills of hope than the gradual and steady churning and muling I’d been wishing for.
But even just the idea of hustling harder makes me exhausted. And this is exactly the place my husband found me in as we talked about that one little comment about my life when I just sort of lost it. Because I was already struggling to “mom” with joy and peace, it was as if this person said to me “The world took a vote and we all think that all that hard work you do--it’s really just kind of a joke. It’s not real work, it’s not hard, and we’d like you to just stay in your corner of the world, cause also you and your kids are loud and obnoxious.”
It was the last straw.
Can I just be super honest with you? I'm a momma who is crazy busy (and that’s just so rare and hard to find these days: a busy adult) just keeping everyone alive and keeping permanent markers and scissors out of toddler's hands.
I need a breather from this Heart Series on the blog.
Not because I'm too busy, not at all. I hope I'm never too busy to simply write.
I just need my soul to breathe and keep the past in the past for a little bit. Cause writing about hard times is....well, hard.
"I'm just mad. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at God."
"I just thought--I really believed that the finish line would be worth it. I've been waiting and banking everything on the finish line being worth it."
Sometimes I use this blog as my place to simply shout from the tech-age mountaintops that God is who He says He is and He does what He says He will do! And today, friend, is one of those days.
I’m crazy excited to introduce y’all to my dear dear friends Camie and Steve Risinger. Camie can be found over at LuxeWise where she and her lovely team help all of us with fun fashion and beauty tutorials while they teach that beauty goes far deeper than what the eye beholds. We have been close to Camie and Steve since 2007 when Austin was in ministry with them. Since then there have been two weddings and SIX babies born (all within three years of each other, that’s no joke). About a year and half ago Austin and I saw our friends become different people, we felt like we saw a death ridden, zombie like form of them and we knew that it was more than just newborn baby sleep deprivation. Since that time, we have seen them cross back into light and walk in joy and love. Even just looking at posed pictures of them, the difference is glaringly obvious. They have a story of pain and healing, sorrow and hope. I’m deeply grateful that they are willing to honestly share their story to glorify Christ and his message of love, reconciliation, healing and peace.
So thank you Lord, we move on to the security line. The security line is where you really know how much people hate children isn’t it? We quickly unshoe and unload. I’m fairly confident we used like 6 bins to get through that line. Austin and Lily go through the security check thingy and I push the rest of our bins through on the conveyor belt. As I start walking through Austin looks back and says, “You got my computer right?” “Yep!” I’m such a good wife. Lyric and I go through the security check thingy and it’s all roses and rainbows. We go to the end of the line, bins 1-5 accounted for.
Austin says, “So you didn’t get my computer?”
When the countdown to our wedding had begun and even in the beginning days, months, and years of our married life...I kind of shuttered every time the word "submission" would pop up. I always nodded right along and agreed that, yes complementation marriage is the way to go! But I thought that actually submitting to Austin would only need to happen in a life or death type of scenario...so I could live free and easy until or unless such a scenario occurred. I thought we could walk through life and just kind of avoid the unpleasantness of submission as long as possible. Let me tell you how that works out....it doesn't.
There have been SO many times in the midst of a fight with Austin when I know that the right thing to do is to put down my defenses, soften my heart (and my body language), apologize, and tell my husband I love him more than [insert whatever dumb thing I was standing my ground on]. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I couldn't muster it up. Why you ask? Cause I love me some ME.
As a former Waiter for True Love…or is it True Love that Waited….or is it Lover that Truly Waited? Anyway, as a person who lived through the True Love Waits phenomena, I think we may have gone about the right thing the wrong way. I really believe with all my heart that we MUST change the conversation about purity. And I believe that there is no better generation to do that than ours.
They weren't perfect and they grieved through various emotions, but they let us grieve with them and up close, so close that I also felt their confidence in God's goodness in a way I had never experienced before.
Again, before I can even catch my breath from the last thing. After reading the most recent news I went outside with my coffee and watched my kids run through the sprinklers, completely oblivious to the sadness in the world around them. I sat there I stared off and thought, “Can good really make a dent against all this evil?”
When what has been, becomes past
When what was awaited, arrives
When the heart is set free to linger and love and hold on
When the waiting and the work bear Hope's seedlings
When Future has leeway to grow wildly and without restraint
And when Rest dwells and decants and generously satisfies
Then, you're home
When we moved here we were looking for a church home and we attended lots of churches to find the right one.
Can I just be super honest with you? I'm a momma who is crazy busy (and that’s just so rare and hard to find these days: a busy adult) just keeping everyone alive and keeping permanent markers and scissors out of toddler's hands.
I need a breather from this Heart Series on the blog.
Not because I'm too busy, not at all. I hope I'm never too busy to simply write.
I just need my soul to breathe and keep the past in the past for a little bit. Cause writing about hard times is....well, hard.
"I'm just mad. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at God."
"I just thought--I really believed that the finish line would be worth it. I've been waiting and banking everything on the finish line being worth it."
It's 3:18am, am I having a heart attack? I feel like I'm exploding, I'm going to lose it. I'm already losing it. I think I might be having a heart attack, like a real heart attack. Maybe I should wake Austin up, I think something is wrong. But he has to be up so early and work so late. Maybe I'm just losing my mind. Maybe I'm finally breaking under all the pressure. My jittery hands come up to my pounding chest.
I've lost it.
Our car pointed west, we entered the I-80 on ramp and just like that Iowa was a part of our past.
This is where I start. This is where our story unfolds for the glory of the Almighty God. Last night, I made the grave mistake of getting my news via Facebook and I closed my browser feeling frankly, less human. Or I guess....more human, that disgusting, depressing, depraved part of my flesh--that's what my Facebook newsfeed highlighted. I went on with my night with a looming sense of "What can be done?"
Over the past several months I've thought so much on the topic of suffering and I've learned SO much firsthand. Recently as I was studying through 1 Peter a cross reference led me to Isaiah 53. When I read through it, Isaiah 53:5 was like a beacon, a flag of truth bringing me home from a long and treacherous journey.
I've seen the faithfulness of the Lord! I know this is a sentiment that I've expressed often here, but from where I sit today the land of the living and the dark places were a journey only about a week apart. God's deliverance for us came tangibly, supernaturally, relationally, emotionally, and superseding anything we ever could have imagined. The road to deliverance was long and rough. NO--it was brutal. Never before in my life have I thought I would die, actually die from the daily heartbreak we woke up to each morning in that season. But now, by God's mercy it is THAT season, and not THIS season. I learned so-crazy-much, I hope and believe that I also grew accordingly.
In this season the Lord has taught me the difference between two things: want and desire. I want a pair of druzy dagger dangles from Wrenn Jewelry, a pair of Nickel and Suede earrings in silver, a "Y'all" box tank from Oh Sweet Joy, a Lindsay Letters "Milk & Honey" print, and some fake succulents from Target and a floral kimono (I mean...Mother's Day is coming up so yea...I took the opportunity to put that list in writing, I can't always be deep y'all! This is real life!). But what I most deeply desire is for God to radically move in our hearts and our lives. I desire to be more like Jesus. I desire to see myself and the world through God's eyes instead of through my own biased and deficient lenses.
Here's the thing, I love writing an Easter post on this blog each year. In fact I think there were years that I might have written as many Easter posts as other regular posts. But this year during my allotted time to write that Easter post and sit in my happy place and drink coffee, I got a migraine instead. I laid in bed completely heartbroken and scared and confused. I know that sounds dramatic but for migraine suffers, an ill-timed migraine can absolutely devastate you. I had planned to write and then take the kids to the first of a weekend full of Easter activities with our church and our families. In a matter of moments all that was being thrown out the window and I was in bed with no idea if this would last minutes or days (Praise God it was only minutes this time). I was so scared, and honestly still am, that my migraines will be back in regularity in a season of life when I have to fight to believe that this won't be the very last straw. I have to fight my hardest not to spiral into a pit of fear that if my migraines come back I might just lose it. It might send us over the edge, because we can't. We just can't handle it. It would just be too much. Too much.
So...I don't know if you guys have picked up on this about me yet and about this blog, but I tend to be an open book about anything....that happened yesterday. Anything that I've come through...open season on it all for the blog! But today...today is harder. Sharing what is current....what still hurts, what's still new, even when it isn't something hard...but mainly when it is.
Here's what I'm learning, here's what I'm becoming increasingly passionate about: God himself is the greatest gift (to know him, see him, learn him, witness his work and become a part of what he is doing) so for him to direct my life in a way that points my posture toward him is the best thing he can do for me and indeed worth rejoicing over. That being said...and out of the fullness of my heart I'm believing it more and more everyday...but that being said, sometimes my posture of worship looks like being curled up and broken in humble prayer before the Lord.
More than anything that I'm learning (and I'm drinking from the fire hydrant if you know what I'm saying) I'm learning again and again each day- each hour that the Lord is enough. But not the kind of enough like the bottom of the barrel, I-guess-that-salad-filled-me-up-until-dinner type of enough.
You know that scene in Frozen where Olaf's carrot nose is shoved through his head and he thinks it's itty bitty and says so with a little cute voice? K. Well pretend you are hearing that voice say "This is just an itty bitty mini post."
I was just thinking/the Holy Spirit brought to mind that verse "Take heart I have overcome the world." So I stopped and looked it up and the entire verse is...
As I was giving my kids second, third and fourth servings of ketchup to accompany the chicken and veggies they weren't thrilled about (read: threenager throwing said chicken across the kitchen) I thanked the good Lord for that tangy, sweet, tomato-ish sauce. And as I dipped my own meat into ketchup I found myself suddenly hooked on dipping (drenching) my dry chicken until I was actually enjoying a meal of leftovers I had been dreading eating for lunch.
I'm sorry it's been so quiet around here...but don't say I didn't warn you. Remember how I said that it was all just too fresh to write about just yet? Still true. Well...maybe not completely. There is something from NOW that I'm dying to write about: our imperfect house. The house we live in now we rent...and it's pretty sufficient to say that it is the antithesis of a "dream home." Instead of new and updated and upgraded and handpicked it's old and cute and charming and eccentric and small and in the perfect location.
Something about the rust red color of the dirt in Texas has always fascinated me. It's beautiful, which is a word that isn't often used to describe dirt. But after being away from it for so long and revisiting it with buckets and plastic shovels along side my kids, it is even more sweetly cherished.
I finally understand why every mom is being all sappy and sentimental and squeezing her kids extra tight this time of year, whether they are graduating preschool (which I mean, I still don’t believe that’s a real thing, wouldn’t promoting out of preschool be better verbiage?) or graduating from high school. There’s this desire to “Stop This Train,” and I honestly did not see all these emotions coming, but man are they are coming in strong.
For various reasons that are unrelated to this story--just know that I had gone on this really sweet (and much needed bonding time after a bad week) walk with my kids and the subject of elderly people being sick came up.
Today I woke up, I read my advent reading, I thought about what the kids would wear for the Christmas Eve service, and then my nose started running, and my throat more than tingled...it ached. By the time Austin left it started getting that old familiar feeling. My perfect Christmas Eve was obliterated by sickness. I would love to tell you I took it all in stride and that I found I had not set any mommy expectations, but that would not be at all true.
Sometimes I use this blog as my place to simply shout from the tech-age mountaintops that God is who He says He is and He does what He says He will do! And today, friend, is one of those days.
So thank you Lord, we move on to the security line. The security line is where you really know how much people hate children isn’t it? We quickly unshoe and unload. I’m fairly confident we used like 6 bins to get through that line. Austin and Lily go through the security check thingy and I push the rest of our bins through on the conveyor belt. As I start walking through Austin looks back and says, “You got my computer right?” “Yep!” I’m such a good wife. Lyric and I go through the security check thingy and it’s all roses and rainbows. We go to the end of the line, bins 1-5 accounted for.
Austin says, “So you didn’t get my computer?”
“Growth looks like...nothing.” These words had me murmuring yeses and amens when my friend Breanne spoke them. Most of the time growth doesn’t announce itself, it doesn’t look like anything in particular on any given day. Like that old cliche about faith and the wind….you can’t see it but you can feel it. Well with growth...you usually don’t see it or feel it until you are forced into a situation that requires your growth to come into play, and then it kiiiinnnnddd of looks like something.
For me, growth kinda looks like an abandoned dirty kitchen at 7:40 a.m. on a weekday.
Today there will be many feelings. But this is your baseline: They are ready. They are, they really are ready for this. And so are you. There will be a moment (maybe a few) when you think…
I could easily worship while I folded laundry and swept up the sand that tracked in from outside. I love cleaning our home, it serves our family. I can worship while I do that. I can wipe down the counters. While I’m at it I can plan for my week of work and map out my list of to-dos. I can consult the calendar.
But I can’t sit still. I can’t BE still.
This isn’t worship at all. This is bondage.
You are here. Right now.
If I’m being really truly honest, here isn't a place I'm enjoying…and I know it’s kind of icky to read a mom say that…it’s icky to be the mom who feels it. Oh wouldn’t I love to be floating on cloud of motherly contentment with this season! But this season of motherhood is just hard and so tiring. Wouldn’t it be delightful if enchantment for every single season of life just naturally swelled in us and flowed out of us? Instead, I’ve been fighting, sometimes spitting mad, against this season and I’m exhausted…so I’m done. I’m done fighting it. I’m here. Here is where I am right now, today.
Accepting this basic condition of my reality means admitting an ugly truth to myself and even more so to the Giver of Life. Facing the nasty brass tacks of my sinfulness, yet again, I found mercy and grace on the other side. And that brings me here, to all of you, because I have this little inkling that maybe…just maybe I’m not the only one digging my heels in and demanding to be somewhere else past or future but this present place just isn’t my cup of tea.
“Please. Just don’t give up on Jesus” the Mennonite minister begged through tears after his son confided in him that he was gay. That was the father’s biggest concern: don’t give up on Jesus. Those words reverberated through my mind and my heart for weeks. No matter what changes, what is lost, what is found: please don’t give up on Jesus.
I catch myself in these terribly cliche moments of momstering on the drive to church and I hate it. So this year, with the onset of varying school drop off schedules, pick up lines for dayzzz, bible study mornings, MOPS, and my part time job, I couldn't continue in my frantic ways. Something had to change, so I've taken up a new spiritual practice.
Again, before I can even catch my breath from the last thing. After reading the most recent news I went outside with my coffee and watched my kids run through the sprinklers, completely oblivious to the sadness in the world around them. I sat there I stared off and thought, “Can good really make a dent against all this evil?”
When what has been, becomes past
When what was awaited, arrives
When the heart is set free to linger and love and hold on
When the waiting and the work bear Hope's seedlings
When Future has leeway to grow wildly and without restraint
And when Rest dwells and decants and generously satisfies
Then, you're home
I finally understand why every mom is being all sappy and sentimental and squeezing her kids extra tight this time of year, whether they are graduating preschool (which I mean, I still don’t believe that’s a real thing, wouldn’t promoting out of preschool be better verbiage?) or graduating from high school. There’s this desire to “Stop This Train,” and I honestly did not see all these emotions coming, but man are they are coming in strong.
I’m at this place of emotional rest whilst in physical busy-ness and a smidge of chaos (move number three ((and the final move!)) coming in two weeks folks!). But after a season of such emotional upheaval, it’s hard to feel as dynamic and inspired and reflective as a writer.
And then this morning I took a few minutes to read and think about Christ being dragged to an unfair trial (talk about injustice, violence, and human rights) and then murdered after being tortured and humiliated in front of crowds of people.
I felt deeply, but not mournfully per-say.
I chopped our grocery bill in half and some months even cut it by two-thirds. I don’t clip coupons, I don't shop at more than two stores per trip, and I don’t jump through hoops. I have three little bitty kids, I need a system that WORKS without adding more stress to my life. My new shopping method has revolutionized our budget and today I’m going to share that method with all of you.
When you become a mom it’s like the last little bit of selfishness that you managed to hide or disguise from your spouse gets eradicated and put on display.
Line drying our clothes was probably the first introduction I had of living slowly and surely. ...Recently though I’ve seen this slowness creep into more of my life. From household chores to Christmas gifts to fashion, even with blogging— my approach is becoming slower and more sure.
I've seen the faithfulness of the Lord! I know this is a sentiment that I've expressed often here, but from where I sit today the land of the living and the dark places were a journey only about a week apart. God's deliverance for us came tangibly, supernaturally, relationally, emotionally, and superseding anything we ever could have imagined. The road to deliverance was long and rough. NO--it was brutal. Never before in my life have I thought I would die, actually die from the daily heartbreak we woke up to each morning in that season. But now, by God's mercy it is THAT season, and not THIS season. I learned so-crazy-much, I hope and believe that I also grew accordingly.
I'm sorry it's been so quiet around here...but don't say I didn't warn you. Remember how I said that it was all just too fresh to write about just yet? Still true. Well...maybe not completely. There is something from NOW that I'm dying to write about: our imperfect house. The house we live in now we rent...and it's pretty sufficient to say that it is the antithesis of a "dream home." Instead of new and updated and upgraded and handpicked it's old and cute and charming and eccentric and small and in the perfect location.
It's Christmas time again! It seems like that can't possibly be true, but it is. This year after hearing my two year old daughter say "It's Christmas time!....Where's my present?" I've been determined to curb their thinking and make this Christmas about Jesus. However, I really struggle with this myself because like most of the moms across America...I have ridiculously high expectations about the magic of Christmas with my family. So I want to curb my thinking as well because with my expectations set to Hallmark proportions, we are all doomed to failure.
The week leading up to my 30th birthday was turbulent. I tried to process as I went through the week, but my process ended up being much more of a stagger through potholes of fear and over molehills of hope than the gradual and steady churning and muling I’d been wishing for.
They weren't perfect and they grieved through various emotions, but they let us grieve with them and up close, so close that I also felt their confidence in God's goodness in a way I had never experienced before.
Some of you might have noticed that I blew up all my social media outlets last week with pictures and posts about my new LuxeWise jewelry. I can’t help it, I am just so excited
I don't even know how to start, cause once I say this I can no longer control whether or not you still see me as the calm, cool, collected blogger you now see me as (right? Right? just play along and let's all pretend that's my online persona). Once I admit this you might see me as a sad, pathetic, needy woman who doesn't understand personal dignity in correlation with the internet.
Or.
Or maybe you will just say what I suspect lots of us are saying: "Yea, me too."
Honestly there was a roller coaster of emotions. Initial thoughts were...wow this is awesome! And I started thinking of all the abundance of things in my household and how those things could be blessings to others. We do have so much stuff and there are people in need all around us.
As I was sorting through my excess of things that we have collected through the years my mind starting filling with fear ...will people take advantage of this "free"garage sale, maybe they don't really need it... What if I give something I will need again or could sell instead....
Today I wanted to share a story from The Generosity Project (hence the "TGP" in the title) that comes from one of the awesome people that helped make it happen! I'm so happy to introduce you to Jessi Meyer from The Meyer Casa! She is fun, organized, down to earth, adorably stylish (ok you caught me, sometimes when picking out an outfit I ask myself...what would Jessi wear?) and an all around great gal. She is momma to Noah and Everly, wife to Matt and has a featured post on Apartment Therapy...dreams do come true. But seriously go look at that post because her house is--I would dare say-- more amazing in real life than even Apartment Therapy could convey. She is my minimalist role model for sure, not to mention she has me dreaming about white walls with a tinge of turquoise. Her love for the Lord is obvious and so is her servant's heart. She made many hours of mindless sorting and organizing for TGP go by quickly with her quick wit and fun spirit. So without further ado....
I’m crazy excited to introduce y’all to my dear dear friends Camie and Steve Risinger. Camie can be found over at LuxeWise where she and her lovely team help all of us with fun fashion and beauty tutorials while they teach that beauty goes far deeper than what the eye beholds. We have been close to Camie and Steve since 2007 when Austin was in ministry with them. Since then there have been two weddings and SIX babies born (all within three years of each other, that’s no joke). About a year and half ago Austin and I saw our friends become different people, we felt like we saw a death ridden, zombie like form of them and we knew that it was more than just newborn baby sleep deprivation. Since that time, we have seen them cross back into light and walk in joy and love. Even just looking at posed pictures of them, the difference is glaringly obvious. They have a story of pain and healing, sorrow and hope. I’m deeply grateful that they are willing to honestly share their story to glorify Christ and his message of love, reconciliation, healing and peace.
Honestly there was a roller coaster of emotions. Initial thoughts were...wow this is awesome! And I started thinking of all the abundance of things in my household and how those things could be blessings to others. We do have so much stuff and there are people in need all around us.
As I was sorting through my excess of things that we have collected through the years my mind starting filling with fear ...will people take advantage of this "free"garage sale, maybe they don't really need it... What if I give something I will need again or could sell instead....
What affect did The Generosity Project have in my life? What did it not affect is more like it.
Now I have their faces burned in my mind and I’m familiar with some aspect of their life. I could pick them out in a crowd. I pray for them and I love them. My heart is open to people that I never in my life would have talked with otherwise. And
Today I wanted to share a story from The Generosity Project (hence the "TGP" in the title) that comes from one of the awesome people that helped make it happen! I'm so happy to introduce you to Jessi Meyer from The Meyer Casa! She is fun, organized, down to earth, adorably stylish (ok you caught me, sometimes when picking out an outfit I ask myself...what would Jessi wear?) and an all around great gal. She is momma to Noah and Everly, wife to Matt and has a featured post on Apartment Therapy...dreams do come true. But seriously go look at that post because her house is--I would dare say-- more amazing in real life than even Apartment Therapy could convey. She is my minimalist role model for sure, not to mention she has me dreaming about white walls with a tinge of turquoise. Her love for the Lord is obvious and so is her servant's heart. She made many hours of mindless sorting and organizing for TGP go by quickly with her quick wit and fun spirit. So without further ado....
Shanae is a woman filled with life, joy, beauty and responsibility. I'm sure none of us who got to spend time with her during the Generosity Project got an accurate picture of the weight she really carries everyday. Shanae was fun and sweet and kind of the life of the party. The Generosity Project would not have been the same without Shanae and her kids and friends.
I know I've neglected the blog a bit lately, but to be honest I just couldn't write yet. I wanted to give The Generosity Project the breathing space it needed. As much as I've missed this little blog, God has been showing me so much and I knew it wasn't a process to be rushed. I want to share a couple of stories with you that came from that day. Because each person who came to help and shop has a unique story and because respecting their privacy is important for different reasons, you should know that their names have been changed and some of the details of their life are being kept intentionally vague. Don't worry, I'll leave in all the important stuff. So without further delay...Here's Ashely's story.
What is The Generosity Project? Watch the video blog here.
All the special magic of my writing morning has been sucked dry and replaced with the realization that every white girl in here has the same pair of beige booties that I do and I’m hungry and tired and running out of minutes every minute.
There’s a buzz word going around, especially for women. I think it’s supposed to be motivating and exciting but it’s having the opposite affect on me. It’s kind of killing me, actually.
Today I felt so gloriously small.
Some of you might have noticed that I blew up all my social media outlets last week with pictures and posts about my new LuxeWise jewelry. I can’t help it, I am just so excited
Today is two big days smushed together into one hugely busy yet all too meaningful day.
Line drying our clothes was probably the first introduction I had of living slowly and surely. ...Recently though I’ve seen this slowness creep into more of my life. From household chores to Christmas gifts to fashion, even with blogging— my approach is becoming slower and more sure.
As a mom what I need more than anything else in the whole wide world is authenticity.
"I'm just mad. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at God."
"I just thought--I really believed that the finish line would be worth it. I've been waiting and banking everything on the finish line being worth it."
Our car pointed west, we entered the I-80 on ramp and just like that Iowa was a part of our past.