Ready to Welcome 2017

Here it is, New Year's Eve, and I have almost survived another Holiday season!  There were moments I didn't think I'd make it through, but the end is in sight!

I am not a natural extrovert.  People and noise and chaos do not fill me.  Quiet and alone fill me.  My family and my job are huge blessings to me, but it does take a lot from me to get through some of the daily grinds of basic family holiday gatherings and weekly worship services.  And lumped together for weeks and days in a row with little down time, and my inner introvert-ness is crying to be alone for a while.

I look back over all the parties, gatherings, festivities and worship services I've been a part of throughout this season and I can't help but smile at all the wonderful interactions and meaningful things that occurred.  It's been a full and rich season of God's blessing and goodness, and I'm left feeling humble and overly appreciative.

My husband totally rocked it this year and completely blew me away with the gifts and love he showered upon me.  He gave of his time and talent and gave me the gift of a fireplace, custom builtin around it, and installed an entire barnwood wall around it.  Something he created and gave me, within our own home, which we can enjoy as a family and allow me to relax and be filled.

Long ago I resolved to stop making resolutions.  It just sets me up for personal failure and disappointment, and it was always the same things on the list every year.  And then a few years ago, I met a new friend who told me that every year she has a word or theme for that year, and she has encouraged me to listen for mine every year since.

Now I'm looking into the start of another new year, wondering what God all has in store for me and for my family.  I've been thinking and trying to listen to the word or theme God wants me to have for 2017.

2015 my word was TRUST.  2015 was a tough, tough year and we just needed to hang on and TRUST God's plan and timing.   2016 was HEALING.  While 2016 wasn't horrible, it was still a fairly tough year for me, and I felt the overall theme as the months continued, was I just needed to intentionally continue to HEAL ~ physically, mentally, spiritually.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the quiet theme scooting through my mind over and over the past several weeks has been "stop caring & stop sharing" - which I realize is a bit harsh and a bit extreme. I just sense that I need work on not getting so emotionally wrapped up in my own inner drama and to stop sharing about what I tend to get all worked up about.

As I was showering this morning thinking about it all, the word LESS became my clear word for 2017.

In 2017 I want to do less.  I am already very careful about what I take on, agree to, volunteer for, etc - but I still feel like I live at a very hectic pace.  I want to commit to do less, without guilt, so I have time to relax more, read more, scrapbook more, spend time in silence and reflection more.  Less crazy, less chaos, less expectations.

I want to spend less.  I already try to spend as little as possible, but I will be the first to admit we have gotten into a very bad habit of overspending.  No, I'm not going to cut cable and cut my grocery budget in half tomorrow, but I do need to be conscious of what I'm shelling out money for.

I want to have less.  I struggle with "stuff" - all those things we have that fill our house, our lives, our drawers, cupboards, shelves, closets, etc.  I always threaten to go all extreme and get rid of half of the things in our house.  While I don't see that happening, I do hope to consciously lessen all that which isn't "necessary" inside the walls of my home and life.

I want to weigh less.  I am already well on my way to a new and healthier me, but I'm not quite there yet.  I want to not just continue on and reach a healthier weight, but I want to stay living healthier through thee entire twelve months of 2017.  I have a horrible track record of not keeping the weight off, eating well, and exercising consistently once I have met my goal.  Someone I know has set a 1000 mile walk/run goal for 2017.  I love this idea ~ it's honestly very achievable, and I'm fairly certain I will steal her same goal. :-)  I also think 2017 just might be the year I finally decide to tackle running a half marathon.

I want to talk less.  I realize this is a bit of an odd thing maybe, but I know I'm a talker and it's very easy for me to be open about what I'm thinking and feeling.  This isn't a bad thing overall, but often I get sucked into drama and grumpy negativity.  I just want to be conscious of what I'm saying and sharing.  I want to complain less, be less negative in my thoughts and comments, and overall just listen better.

So that's my word and my initial thoughts as I'm getting ready to say farewell to 2016 and warmly greet 2017.  I'm hoping as I start consciously doing and becoming LESS that it will continue to spill into even more areas of my life than the five I specifically listed above.

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The Christmas Goodie Making Mess

I tend to run a tight ship in my kitchen.  My kitchen is not immune to extreme mess by any means, but it's my mess.  And I am fairly controlled and competent with my sprinkles.

Tonight is the yearly "Christmas goodie" making night with my youngest.   I had hoped my teenager and girlfriend would have come home, but there wasn't even a reply to the text inviting them.

We got out the candies, crackers, double broiler and almond barks, turned on the ovens and began all our creations.  And it is crazy hard for me not to micro-manage, to not take over and do it myself, to not nitpick and get a little grumpy, to not expect "perfect".

I hate that about myself.  I long to be able to honestly just sit back, relax, and completely enjoy the moment, no matter what the agenda, no matter what the mess.  But I can't...  whether in my kitchen, in my living room, at my desk at work, even driving in my car.

It's what makes me be my very best, and it makes me my very worst, all at the same time.

This season I have been very aware of the little narrative in my mind telling me to just "not care" and "not share"... I've mentioned this to a few people who have given me the odd look.  It's not "not caring" across the board - it's just not getting emotionally attached to the extreme feelings and thoughts always running out-of-control within me.  I try and not "numb" in life, I try and just "feel and deal" day by day - all there, all in, all the time.  It's an exhausting daily grind most days and I'm pretty sure I am a prime candidate for drug and alcohol abuse as I can totally see why people start - just wanting to dull that extreme inside, hide the hard.  I watch Intervention, and I get it - oh I totally get it.

But I am beyond grateful God has continued to shield me from all that, as I've chosen to just continuing to navigate my life's full reality head on with all 100% of me.  While this might sometimes feel a bit of a curse, I am fully aware of the overwhelming blessing in this.  He is fully present next to me in my mess, holding my hand and just encouraging me to take a deep breath and continue forward.

And with that thought of overwhelming blessing filling my soul and spreading its smile, I look on at the disarray of scattered sprinkles and flour from baseboard to ceiling... and I will choose to leave the mess just a little longer.  I'll resist the urge to meticulously clean up as we go and instead live in the mess of the moment while it lasts, allowing the the carefree joy of my eight year old baker-in-the-making to continue his joyful creativity without the crushing expectation of his mother's "perfection complex."  I will choose to be fully present in his mess and encourage him to continue forward as well.

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Christmas Is Not About Me

Christmas is next week, and I am feeling a bit "bah-humbug" about it all.  A lot bit "bah-humbug" if I'm completely honest.

I am not a fan of Christmas.  Once upon a time I'm sure I was.  I have endless magical memories of Christmas grandeur from my childhood.

And then I grew up, and life turned out being so much harder than I had ever imagined, and every looming year marks another milestone of a wish, hope, dream not yet met... and somehow I've turned into one of those tired people who actually full on dread the holidays.

I'm the one who bakes everything, buys everything, brings everything, juggles everything, wraps everything, orders, stuffs, addresses, seals, mails all the cards, sends and replies to the millions of texts and emails trying to obtain and give the perfect and complete wish lists along with the organization of all the said food and party details of that stated earlier... so that everyone in my family can just put on their coats, get in the car, and "arrive and enjoy" their big day ~ which ends up lasting for an entire week or longer as we bounce from one celebration to the next, and then all needs to be unpacked and put away when we get home.  Throw in blended families on multiple sides, an adopted child, the empty space of a child lost too soon, all topped with a thick layer of the mom-guilt of someone who deep inside honestly knows she's just feeling sorry for herself and really just wants someone in her house to remember to go shopping for something meaningful, thoughtful, and special for her...

And well... yeah, the holidays are just hard.

I honestly have the best of intentions every year to intentionally stay slow... to do less, care less, spend less... and then somehow Halloween passes, the calendar flips to November and the crazy just seems obliviously inevitable.

I've been walking around at war with myself for days about all this, and it finally spilled out all over in the form or tears this morning at work.

I'm tired and not sleeping well, I'm stressed, I'm attempting (and failing miserably) at dieting ~ even through I am diligently doing what I'm supposed to in the eating and exercising avenue... apparently stress, age, and hormones still have the upper hand within my stubborn body.  I'm finding it harder and harder to get up every morning and face the day, poised to make the right health decisions when there is no fruit from my labor.  My stamina and hope is fading quickly....

And now the calendar says that Christmas is next week.  Next week.  My pulse quickens and my emotions rise.  I try and take a deep breath and tell myself to just "not care..."  Take a step back and remove myself emotionally from the reality at hand.  Put up the wall. Remain numb. Sustain survival mode.

But I am one of those Type A, obsessively organized, planner people, and remaining emotionally unattached does not come easy for me.  Hence, I'm walking around all "bah-humbug-y" and have piled on a good 'ol heap of stressed out self-pity.

But Christmas is not about me.  Deep inside, I know this.  It's what eating away at my soul right now.  Christmas is NOT about ME.

Christmas is about grandparents going to the church Christmas Programs.  It's about parents having their children and grandchildren all home under one roof, celebrating together, despite the chaos.  It's about inviting friends and neighbors to worship on Christmas Eve, opening the doors of the church and welcoming one and all.  It's about creating the childhood magic and grandeur for my own children within our home.  It's about seeing the unseen, hearing the unheard, loving the unloved.  It's about breathing deep, honoring tradition, gracefully packing away our life's disappointments for a small season, loving family unconditionally (despite the quirks), and putting others first.

And at the very intimate core of all of this, it's ultimately about the tiny baby born in Bethlehem, who would die on a cross thirty-three years later, in order that I would be able to live and be saved over two-thousand years later.  That is the true magic and wonder of Christmas, the true gift and ultimate giving.  That is the perfect picture of sacrifice, of setting aside self and giving completely.

It's about the giving. It's not about the getting.

My heart is heavy as I think about how this simple fact, this indescribable act, has gotten so commercialized and self personalized, both in my life and in society at large.  It is my prayer that the unattainable expectations and unrealistic hopes of this Christmas do not overshadow the greater sunshine and shining eastern star announcing the arrival of the One who will one day set us free from all our discontent.

May the true message and reality that Christmas is NOT about ME softly settle deep within my self-pity filled soul, and may all our hearts be filled with the magical childlike awe and wonder over the Child of God this Christmas.

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My Words Do Not Matter

I’ve been staring at this blank page for days. So much to say, and yet nothing. So many emotions and feels right now, and yet… nothing.

The nation elected a president last week and we’re having big conversations in our little home made up of multiracial heritages. As if the adoption struggle of grief, loss and attachment at the core family level isn’t hard enough, we now add the confusion of identity and place within a society and a county where our beautifully tan skinned son is a legal citizen of. I’m also caught up battling and sharing about my weight and my treadmill, on a blog dedicated to sharing about the love and loss of a tiny baby who’s eyes only saw Jesus when they first opened.

And I’m left felling like my words do not matter, and my story is irrelevant.

But that’s actually not true. That’s what is being whispered in my ear. But the pulse within my heart beats something entirely different. God gave me this life, this story, this journey for a reason. And I had decided to share that, in hopes to merely love others well, to share my pain, my shortcomings, my losses and my overcoming victories within a realness that gently tells others they are not alone, they are seen, and their story also matters.

Ultimately, I just want my life to somehow paint God’s light into the darkness.

As I have stumbled along in my journey I have dealt with eating disorders, perfection complexes, divorce, miscarriage, blended home, career changes, infertility, adoption, stillborn loss, and more disappointments than I could have imagined. And yet, through all of those rungs on this ladder of my life, the Lord has continued to be the one at the bottom holding it steady against the wall of His goodness. I’m doing the climbing – one foot slowly in front of the other – but He continues to wake me up each morning for a reason and provide me the next rung. I reach one hand as high above as I can, trying to grab on to the “what’s next,” forcing one hand to always have to hang on through the entire season of that current rung. I continue upward on onward, sometimes wishing it would go faster, sometimes wishing to stay put just a little longer. Always willing myself to trust the lesson and blessing of each season, whether it's visible or felt within that moment or not.

One hand always reaching, one hand always clinging to that which supports me.

The change and shift are always occurring. The growth and risk and are always being presented to me. I know my foundation is firm beneath me as I blindly navigate the unknown beyond me, the next season of my continued journey always on its way.

And my words do matter and my story is relevant, and I need to stop letting society or satan or whoever, tell me otherwise.  I was created for a reason, you were created for a reason.  Our lives and our stories are meant to meet and weave and create vibrance and beauty in this tapestry of life.  So live it - and share it - but most importantly, love it well.

Love yourself... love others... love the journey well...

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The Mountain Still Before Me

It's been a while since I've posted.  Partially because I've been busy, mostly because I have been in a overall state of frustration and bitterness, and for me that's not a great place to write from.  So my fingers have remained quiet.

I was eating healthy.  I was exercising.  I was choosing the salad, the fruit, the veggies, the low fat - not just some of the time, not just most of the time, but EVERY single time, every single day.  And when I would weigh in - nothing.  And then I'd even gained.  And I was struck with that frustrated "So why am I doing this then anyway??"  If I'm choosing and doing all the right stuff and it's not making any difference, then why do it??  Eat the damn chocolate and be done with it.

I simmered in frustration and bitterness for quite a while.  I'm still kinda there, if I'm honest.  I quit exercising.  I quit weighing in.  I quit being so careful what I ate.

My friend came over and I told her I'd quit.  She told me she'd joined Weight Watchers. (This is exactly why you need a friend to hold your hand during all this - she isn't going to let me quit.)

Well, I had promised myself that I would not pay money to lose weight (beyond the higher cost of purchasing healthier food at the store).  No gym membership (I own a treadmill for cry'n out loud - just get on it!).  No fad plan membership or special food / pills / shakes / supplements.  No magic pink drink Fridays.  Hey, I'm not saying anything personal against any of those businesses, I just personally do not have the cash in my wallet to be able to even consider it.

My friend has done Weight Watchers in the past.  It's her go-to, it's what she does, and has worked for her before.  I've done "low fat" and I've done Medifast in the past that have worked for me.  The "low fat" was obviously not currently working.  I eyed the dusty box of left over Medifast meals every time I got in my van in the garage.

I went to the chiropractor and started working on the pain in my feet and back and knee.  I got back on the treadmill.  There is no half-marathon in my near future, but there is a continual nudge to want to tackle that bucket list item once-and-for-all.

I finally caved and started the Medifast meals.  I'd forgotten how horrible it all tasted.  I'd forgotten how much I missed dairy and fruit.  I did some online reading on Weight Watchers.  They meet on Wednesday nights - I work on Wednesday nights, and I'm not even sure if they meet in the town I live.  Their membership fees aren't even in my realm of being able to consider.  Their points system intrigued me though.  Something different, but possibly something doable.  It looked complexly easy.

So here's where I currently stand.  I'm using up my old Medifast meals (from four years ago) and I've ordered a set of basic PointsPlus Weight Watchers books off eBay that have a basic list all the foods and points.  When they arrive, I will take a closer look and perhaps give it a try (on my own, not via a full membership... I'm not sure if that's something a person is supposed to publicly admit to or not, but I just did ~ please don't hunt me down Weight Watchers police!)

In the meantime, I did force myself to weigh today.  By gosh by golly, I was down 2.4 pounds.  I'm still frustrated, I'm not pleased with how I'm doing or how it's going, and I'm discouraged. But even the smallest of negative number is better than a plus number on that scale.

Today's small victory in the face of the mountain still before me.

{ next weight journey update HERE }

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Another nine day update

Nine day update…

Well, this update crept up on me really fast. Today I can at least report that since my last update, I have finally pretty much jumped in with both feet.

I received a message from a dear friend and fellow blog follower asking if I’d like to journey with her, weigh in with her, set some goals together, help hold each other accountable. With grateful tears I said “you bet - let’s do this!"

I got myself on the scale the next morning. I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Thirty-one pounds. I have gained thirty-one pounds since shortly after losing Faith. Granted, I was at my thinnest at that point and not well, but thirty-one pounds is still a significant amount of weight. Yeah, I’m one of those who has been “blessed” to not have any stretch marks on my stomach from pregnancy, but I sure have them on my thighs from excessive and roller coaster weight gain.

The shame umbrella hanging over me is massive right now. It’s shading my sunshine and blocking my view. I've allowed it to hide most of my more shining qualities.

My friend and I set an initial small goal and date. I set a secondary slightly longer term goal and date. I’m not sure if the second is achievable or not. It’s nothing excessive by any means, but I know myself and I’m not sure if it’s going to be achievable or not. And no, I do not plan to re-lose all thirty-one pounds. I would honestly be ecstatic at this point to simply meet in the middle with fifteen pounds. Fifteen pounds is a great compromise that will at least get me back into the jeans hanging in my closet, well hopefully anyway!

I also decided that I needed to choose some sort of diet-ish type plan. There’s so many to pick from, but I decided to just stick with what I know. Low fat. It’s kind of what I’ve always done in the past, and for the most part still allows me quite a bit of the food that is easy and that I like (and most importantly I don't have to sign up and order anything). Yes, I realize cereals and breads and fruits and veggies contains lots of carbs and other things many diets scream against, but it’s what I’m going to do - basically because it’s what I know and what I can fairly easily follow.

I have continued to get up and exercise for 30 minutes every morning. Basic, boring walking.  And most days, even that is really hard to get done. Shame has me believing it’s a waste because I’m not running, and I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the reality that I probably will not run again. I will not race train, I will not ever have the stamina or ability to 10K and I will never probably get to cross a half marathon off my bucket list.  Deep inside I do know this is ok, even though it really isn't.

I'm already starting to get a little obsess-ish, which is not what I want.  I think about how to get out of eating socially, how to get by eating a bowl of cereal vs the entire full meal I'm needing to serve my family, how I'm going to get in my daily exercise and keep my daily fat gram intake under 25 grams if I go ahead with social obligations I've already scheduled.  I have either stellar rockstar diet days, or I have complete epic failure diet days.  There's no medium ground for me - I'm either all in or all out.  I make one poor choice, I let myself have one little indulgence, and then those feelings of shame and failure kick in and rather than stop after a few bites, I just crash and burn and eat it all (and then some).  Always knowing regret will immediately move on in...

Like always, I just want to hurry the whole thing along, to stay in super control long enough to lose the desired weight and then just work on trying to maintain.  After 30 years you would think I would learn this is not how it works, but apparently old habits die hard.

I am trying to continue on every day, trying to eat more healthy and move around a little bit more.  I am a little edgy and borderline irritable.  I hate having thoughts of food and exercise continually creep in my mind and conversations.  I just want to turn down the volume and quit, and I've only barely gotten started.

I weighed in today and I have lost a few pounds.  Huge success, yes.  And oddly enough I'm already nervous that the next time I will have already gained it all back, because all of this is just really really hard.  Baby steps I guess... getting started steps I guess... but hey - I'm doing it steps!  And this time I'm not alone... In fact, I just got a text of encouragement from my friend - she's counting on me to keep a goin' with her on this journey!

{ next update HERE }

Emotional Triggers

This morning I had a mammogram. Tomorrow is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  To say I've had an onslaught of underlying emotions is an understatement.

I was supposed to have my mammogram already back in February.  I was in no way emotionally able to walk back in that room, exactly one year after our Journey to Faith began there that day.

At first I just ignored the email and mail notifications stating I was due, and then overdue, for my yearly mammogram.  Finally in June I called to scheduled the appointment, but I told them I needed an appointment in October...  after camping season was over for the summer.

You see, I'm also a planner.  While I knew I emotionally couldn't handle repeating this appointment again in February, I also did not want to lose a summer at the lake to surgery, chemo, and sickness if something were to be found on my mammogram.  And I know I will live with an insane guilt over waiting if something were to be found after extending the time in which I knew I should have had it done. I wish I was ~haha~ joking, but it's the honest truth in how I think and process.   Avoidance and denial.   They are two of my top coping mechanisms.

I've never talked about it, but I also carry a great fear of cancer, especially breast cancer.  I lost an aunt at 39, a cousin at 33, my sister-in-law was diagnosed at 29, and I have friends who have lost their precious mamas. In my mind I've basically just lived with the fear of "when will it be me?"  Interestingly enough, way back in February 2014 I also had started the process of setting appointments for genetic testing, and was very open to the option of having a preventative mastectomy.  Needless to say, that was all stopped the moment I walked from the mammogram room to the ultrasound room and heard the words "Oh... there's a baby in there..."

Those words led to a long and painful journey of great loss and devastation for our family, and nothing more was ever said about that initial cancer screening since.  We are approximately 20 months out from that initial life altering moment, and while we are not all the way picked back up and put all back together... we are diligently working on living one more day, one more day at a time.

It's times like these that trigger all those memories and emotions all over again, and by the time I crawled in bed last night I had all sorts of crazy feels going on and all sorts of fabricated stories woven in my head of multiple scenarios of hypothetical outcomes based on the finding and results of my mammogram today, and all sorts of flashbacks and memories of the life and loss of our little Faith.

Why do we do this to ourselves??  I mean seriously - why do we let our minds take over and rob us of so many sane, calm, restful, and rational thoughts each and every day??  I once again could not reign in the chaos of my mind's overactivity, and my basic sanity paid the price and took the lofty toll.

I did finally sleep, and I did get myself to the hospital, checked in, and allowed myself to be led back to that same little waiting room.  I instantly remembered the things I was thinking about as I waited that day, I remembered the book I was reading, I remember what part in the book I was reading...  I remember the fear of my mammogram results and the heavy dread of ultrasound results within me, never once wondering if all the sickness I was experiencing could have been caused by pregnancy.  I was mourning the reality of possibly talking hysterectomy... And within an hour from the moment I entered that waiting room, our world would be turned upside down.

I fought back tears and choked down fear throughout the appointment today.  I answered all the questions and I survived the procedures to get the six images they needed for medical review.  And then I walked out and went home to wait for the results, my legs heavy with the past depth and sadness they now carried along.

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Those Mornings

Do you ever have those mornings... Those mornings when you lay in bed earnestly pleading with the Lord to bless your day, bless your words, bless your very heart and soul, to fill you patience and peace and compassion... and then your feet hit the floor and you bump into the eight-year-old little pile of blankets camped out on your floor. He groans and moans and grumbles and the morning struggle begins, and instantly the sweet moment of resolve and sanity vanish.

Through clinched teeth and deep breathes you somehow get through breakfast.  The tension continues in his bedroom over getting dressed, and you know there's still making the bed, spelling words, brushing the teeth, finding the coat and gloves, and cold lunch still to pack.

You walk into your bathroom and are met by the pile of dirty laundry.  You pick it up in an angry huff and mutter to yourself "Why in the world am I the only one in this house that has to do all the the laundry?!?" After starting a load you walk into the kitchen and see the stack of dirty dishes on top of the dishwasher.  The little green light indicates it's clean, but obviously not emptied.  You fling the door open and bang and crash dishes around putting them away and reloading in an attempt to clean the off the counter, again muttering "Why in the world am I the one in the house that has to empty the dishwasher nearly every time?!?"

The struggles with the grumpy eight-year-old continues and soon I hear my husband from the bathroom where he's getting ready.  He's yelling at us to to stop yelling at each other.  I know in approximately seven minutes he will walk out, completely dressed and ready to go - he will give us a kiss goodbye, and simply walk out the door for the day.

I give him a curt kiss with angry eyes and my mind screams at him "Why in the world am I the only one in this house that has to do all this crazy crap every morning?!?"  I don't say it, but I make it clear he knows it.

Soon I'm juggling the laundry that was still in the dryer from the day before, which I discover when I go to change loads.  I plop it down on the bed and start folding.  I see socks sticking out of dresser drawers that aren't closed all the way.  I see closet doors sitting wide open. I see piles of clean clothes on the floor still not put away.  I see the decorative bed pillows thrown down haphazardly.  Buttons - all little buttons being pushed causing me to nearly explode.

I make a mental note of the thirteen things that I need to still get done over my lunch hour.  My husband will probably be going out to eat somewhere while I will be swapping laundry, making appointments, prepping for supper, and replying to emails from school.

After twenty-seven more "get your shoes on!" we finally get in the van and are on the way to school, where I will have to endure the dreaded "drop off zone" of crazy cars.  I won't even go there to try and describe this frustrating task.  By the time the van door shuts, I wave my ten good bye waves and kisses, somehow manage to pull back into traffic and not get hit by the other vehicles dropping off kids, and arrive five minutes late to work - I am left feeling like a complete and total pile of crabby poop.

I seem to have "those mornings" every single morning.  They are typically followed by "those days" and "those nights" every single day as well.

Why in the world is this?  How have I managed to almost daily destroy my happiness, hope, and self-worth before 8:00 a.m.?  Why do all those stupid little things, those little buttons that cause the crazy to kick in inside us, get to take over and decide the quality of my worth and the happiness within my home?  When did the bar of expectation get raised to a height no one will ever be able to achieve?  And why do all these small things matter to me to such a large degree?

Do you even love your husband you're probably wondering with a gasp under your breath?  Absolutely.  Without a doubt.  I can't imagine life without him.  Yet some days I can hardly stand daily life with him, and I'm fairly certain the feeling is mutual.  We do not speak the same love language and we most certainly do not speak each others love language well, sometimes if at all. It's a never ending battle of grace. And yet at the end of the day, we just have this odd thing, this kind of relationship I can't really describe, one I know is maybe different than most, or at least I assume not everyone is like us behind closed doors, but who knows, maybe I'm wrong on that.  We're two opposite individual mixed with an incredible dose of crazy, sealed with just enough glue to somehow keep us all together.

But I digress...  back to the original question - why is this?  Why are so many of us continually battling the life sucking insanity of unattainable perfection and expectation?  Why do we let this invisible demon rule and run and direct and dictate so many of our feelings, responses, relationships, and ultimate worthiness?

Our houses do not need to be perfectly kept, our to-do lists do not need to always have everything crossed off, our spouses and families do not always need to do everything perfectly and immediately for us. Who is telling us they have to be, and more importantly why are we believing them?  I am not perfect.  They are not perfect.  So why do we keep killing each other trying and expecting to be?

I need to learn to find a way to live in a better peace amid the mess.  I need to learn to find greater patience and grace amid the chaos.  I need to learn to grant forgiveness and greatly lower my expectations on both myself and everyone around me, especially those within the walls of our home.

It's time to starting taking out all the "Why in the world am I the only's" and insert a whole lot more "Who in the world am I going to bless today's..."  And who knows... maybe in my attempt to bless them better, I will in turn allow them to bless me better.

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Weight - Day 9 Update

Nine days ago I posted my initial nine pound weight loss challenge, and I'm betting if I logged on and looked at my blog stats that there probably hasn't even been nine people who have even viewed that post yet.  I'm fairly certain I am still on this journey relatively alone.

I thought I would give my first update.

Waaaahlaaa - I've lost nine pounds.  Ok, that's a lie.  A really big FAT lie.

Truth-be-told ~- I haven't even convinced myself to even get on the scale yet!   I'm one of those people that I have to already know I've lost at least a little weight before I will even find the incentive needed to initially get on the scale to really see how bad I've allowed myself to again get.  I fear I may even still be gaining.

The basic reality - I have no pants that fit right now.  It's that change-in-season wardrobe time.  I had 6 pair of shorts that I wore all summer.  4 denim/dress and 2 athletic.  I dressed them up or dressed them down and that is all I wore thee entire summer.

I had an outdoor event two weeks ago and needed to wear jeans.  I had none that fit.  I was not surprised.  So, I've been continuing to wear the shorts, only now with sweaters.  Someone at work recently asked if I was cold.  Yes, of course I am - but I have no pants that fit because I gained a bunch of weight summer.  And I have these crazy sore bunion feet and can only wear flip flops.

I live in Iowa people - this dilemma will in fact need to be dealt with though sooner than later.  And the sooner has in fact already arrived, and the extremeness of the situation is fully upon me.  I may be in denial, but the reality is upon me.  Hence, I issued myself the nine pound challenge nine days ago.

I wish I could report that I'm well on my way to my new me.  I wish I could tell you I have given up all caffeine, chocolate, and added an hour of intense exercise every day.  But, I'm not and I haven't.

Wednesday morning God woke me up at 3:45am and after wrestling sleep for an hour, I finally gave in to the reality that I knew He had me awake for a reason, and I actually got out of bed and went for the first morning walk in probably ten months.  The same thing happened Thursday morning.  Friday I push mowed the lawn and Saturday morning I even got myself on the treadmill before 7:00am.  I didn't run, I didn't even go very long.  22 minutes / 1.5 miles.  That was my goal, and that was all I did.  It's hard to view that as a #win for the day and not compare it to what used to be my normal pace, time, and distance in the past when I was 10k training...

But, that was 22 minutes longer and 1.5 miles further than I'd gone the week prior... than the entire summer prior.  My feet have been screaming at me, my back continues to hurt, and now I've added an incredible ache in my right knee.  I know much of it stems from the additional pounds I'm dragging along to each workout.  I'll continue to try keep setting small goals and pushing through the pain, but I am a little fearful of creating more damage which may stop being able to achieve even the smallest of goals.  Utter frustration.

I bought yogurt, fruit, and granola.  I haven't eaten it all yet, but I have added a few healthier moments in each day.  I've not taken a sleeping pill for the past four nights, and I have not had a cup of coffee after noon all week.  Unfortunately, there are still many many unhealthy decisions still surrounding each healthy one.

Saturday we went to a large gathering of friends at a tailgate party.  I arrived incredibly self conscious and poured into a pair of jeans that did not fit, while I sat next to a buffet table the entire length of the garage, desperately wishing I had held better control of my weight this summer.

I currently sit at the eve to the start of another new week.  My alarm is set, my treadmill will be waiting.  Will I get up and conquer?  Will I hit snooze and begin the week with failure?  Will this be the week I convince myself to weigh in and swallow the hard truth of reality?  Will I give in and order a larger pair of jeans (with money I don't have) or will I continue on in shorts, sweaters, and flip flops for a few weeks longer, desperately praying for no snow and a willpower that will somehow keep me moving forward without completely overtaking me...

Perhaps it's just a fancy excuse, perhaps it's being forty-one and knowing my tendencies, but I do carry a small fear any time I start the journey of weight loss, knowing I may soon be dancing with the demons of obsessive self control and unattainable perfection.  I want one without the other this time around.  I fear I will have neither.

In the next nine days I will weigh myself.  In the next nine day I will set the time frame in which I hope to lose those nine pounds by. In the next nine days I will continue to set small, tiny, baby-step goals.  In the next nine days I will pray there will be more moments of going forward and wise choices than moments of set-back and poor choices.  In the next nine days may I be encouraged by others and continue onward, and may I have eyes that help see who and where to be the encouragement others are needing from me.

And before I hit "publish" I need to stop and simply ask why is that I am even giving myself another nine days before really diving in with both feet?? I could walk into the bathroom and weigh myself in the matter of two minutes and be done with it. Why am I playing this ridiculous game with myself??

Denial and shame.   It's simply my personal denial and shame...

{ next weight journey update HERE }

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Passion

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the word passion lately.

I looked it up in the dictionary and it states:

Passion: 1) A strong and barely controllable emotion. 2) The suffering and death of Jesus.

Bill Hybils recently asked a series of three questions on this topic. 1- How filled is your passion bucket? 2 – Whose job is it to fill you passion bucket? 3 – How do we keep our passion bucket filled?

It’s our own jobs to intentionally find our passion, feed our passion, and keep our passion.

I sat with furrowed brows in concerned concentration as I thought this over. I was 41 years old, in a leadership-ish type roll, both within my job and within the walls of our home, and I had no idea what really filled my own passion bucket, and I had no idea how full it even was registering. Apparently it was that empty?!? It left with me a rather lost, empty emotion slowly seeping its way down.

I spent a week really thinking about it, and later commented that I felt I was in a season of just being really lost with a near empty passion bucket, and I didn’t have a clue what to even do to starting trying to fill it again. The conversation that followed caught me off guard a little. Several people I work with made the comment that they perceived me as a very passionate and passion driven person and that much of what I do was rooted in passion.

Really? Interesting. Why would others view something so entirely different than what I myself thought?

I sat again pondering it all. Perhaps I was just looking at it all wrong somehow. In my mind I had defined “passion” as the big, the bold, the fun, the absolute meaning that fills you bubbling up to overflowing from within. “Passion” is that thing you love to do and cling to, that thing you’re really good at, that thing that you find great joy and pleasure in, that thing that doesn’t quickly seep back out of those tiny soul cracks we all have.

I read over the dictionary definition again. In my mind I did not really correlate passion and suffering in the same definition.

I think my mind was trying to defining my passion as my photography, my scrapbooking, my writing. These were the things I simply enjoyed doing, and I didn’t understand why I was still left feeling so empty and exhausted the majority of the time, because I assumed if we did what we were "passionate" about we would naturally be happy and filled. So why was my passion bucket currently not filled to overflowing with these things in this season of my life? I honestly didn’t know. Which I found… odd.

I continued to turn and tumble all this around inside as the weeks continued, and then I finally moved on to that next word associated with passion - passionate.

I pulled out Mr Webster again and looked up the definition.

Passionate: Showing or caused by strong feelings or a strong belief.

Nothing in that definition stated the requirement of happiness, joy, or even contentment.

I recently heard Dr. John Maxwell state these profound words: “Everything worthwhile in your life is uphill. If it’s precious and beautiful – it’s uphill all the way.”

“Everything worthwhile in your life is uphill.”

Uphill is hard. Uphill is exhausting. Uphill is slippery and dangerous. Uphill is often the not-so-wonderful parts in the journey. Uphill is often not filled with laughter and ease. Uphill is the place where you often want to give up or turn back around.

I think in my mind I was trying to identify and place a big red locator pin into what my passions specifically were, and I was confused why I couldn’t really identity why I wasn’t currently filled with overflowing happiness.

My mind had apparently been carrying the wrong definition and left me asking the wrong questions. Hence leaving me feeling so lost and empty.

What I’m slowly coming to realize is the true definition of passion isn’t necessarily just choosing to doing a few select easy things over and over that I really enjoy doing and excel at. True passion is found in the often unwanted and unseen things we choose to do, even when we don’t always want to, or know how to tackle. Passion is the things we choose to do regardless of the outcome, the things we take on regardless of how bumpy and long the journey may be, the things we sometimes don’t even choose to do at all, but still do anyway.

I do not have to be filled with joy to be filled with passion.

The core of our passions are the things God nudges us to invest our energy into. Sometimes passion will sweep us into areas we excel and are talented in causing great and immediate joy, but sometimes passion will be the path less taken and the joy will be much slower and different in its arrival.

So, with this new definition, excuse me – this corrected definition, now starting to weave its way through my thoughts I’m beginning to see more clearly the things I am truly passionate about are the things in my life that are often my “uphills”… The things I am passionate about are the things that actually aren’t the areas that are easy, that aren’t bubbling with instant over-the -top joy and laughter… It’s in the uphill battles of adoption and walking well beside other adoptive moms and families. It’s in sharing the uphill battles of infant loss and infertility and finding the vulnerability and authenticity to overcome my fear and share our story. It’s about the uphill battles of school and learning issues and behavior battles of a teenager with dyslexia and a spunky eight year old with various behavioral concerns, both of which I just desperately long for them to know the victory of their own successes, irregardless of the measure of success the world places on them.

Moving my internal columns around, those top things that make me happy and bring me joy (photography, scrapbooking, and writing) are now residing in the column next to the passion column mentioned above. They are separate yet distinctly interwoven, and it’s how you mesh them together that makes all the difference.

My photos and writing are in essence my means of capturing the intimate story of my life, carefully documenting and sharing the true beauty of all that fills my passion bucket, which was apparently fuller than I had first realized. They help me see, capture, preserve, and share the day-to-day “uphill” within and around me ~ the big and the small, the easy and the hard, the good and the bad. They are the things I enjoy doing most, and are what God has laced within me to help me long for, drawing me to moments of silence, moments of rest and reflection, moments of self examination and growth… all key ingredients needed to navigate and weather the “uphills” that our passions will bring us to.

What brings me simple and easy joy also gives color and vibrancy to many of the areas the world would prefer to leave dark and grey, you know ~ the areas God has nudged me to see and choose to invest my energy into. And what we choose to invest our energy into, those are usually the precious areas of passion God is calling us to.

What do you see? What do you invest your time and energy in? Are you filling your passion bucket with the challenges God is nudging you to take on?

Dare to take the roads less traveled, dare to weather the “uphills” before you … for that is where God is most at work and where you will find yourself most alive and filled. That is where your passions, and the things that bring you great joy, will intersect in a perhaps most peculiar and yet most rewarding way.

It was already happening all around me, I just needed fresh eyes to finally be able to truly see and experience it differently. I’m still exhausted and running fairly empty, but that’s ok. I know it’s because while trying to live my life and honoring the passions I’ve been called to, some things are just heavy and hard. That doesn’t mean my bucket is empty, it just means I need to intentionally mix in a little more of the joy giving things into those areas.

I think the key is to try channel our passionate hards through our joy-filling easies, to help move those “uphill” passions to be more fully life giving and bucket filling.

{ next blog post }

Weight

So, can I talk honestly about weight? Can I go there? I’m convinced nearly all of us struggle with this issue. I know I do, and I’m learning that with nearly everything I struggle with, there is a long row of others behind me dealing with something similar.

All my life I’ve battled the scale, and all my life I’ve been in a losing battle with that number. I’ve dealt with the effects of an eating disorder since I was in middle school. (Nope – I’ve never been a “binger and purger” in case you’re wondering and wanting to maybe gossip about this little tidbit of information…) I’m a “controller” and I once thought the greatest control one can have is not eating anything at all. This has left me to battle every single morsel of food that I've put in my mouth for the last thirty years.

The scale number in my mind that I think is my “ideal weight” is for the most part, entirely unattainable. I’ve been at this target number for probably a grand total of 9 total days of my life. I will reach the goal and by the next day I will already be unable to maintain it, and will spend every following day wishing I was able to get back to that weight. Apparently my physical body has a much different point of view on the matter of my ideal weight than my mind does.

My weight has always rollercoastered over a 20-30 pound fluctuation. I have two entire wardrobes of clothes for both ends of the spectrum. I’m hovering into having to move into a third… which would move my current “fat clothes” into a sad “middle” area, replaced by an even “fatter” “fat clothes”. I said I would never buy bigger clothes… but we all know the reality that buying a few new pairs of pants is much quicker and easier than trying to get back into the ones we currently own.

You all get this don’t you?! Please tell me this isn’t just me…

I was recently sick for a long period of time, and it took its toll on me physically, with an actually positive side effect of unexpected weight loss (notice I did not include the words “unwanted weight loss”! Personally I think any weight loss that is out of my control is glorious!) It took my body about fifteen months to slowly heal and get back to its former “healthy,” and as the months of this summer passed, sadly the pounds have slowly settled back on. I tried to not see them, and I haven’t actually gotten back on the scale to know the true breadth of its reality (oh how I hate that cold, white thing covered in bathroom dust over in the corner) But as someone once said to me, “Oh course we know we’ve gained weight, we are the ones wearing it!” Yes, I am surly the one wearing it… the return of the cellulite and pudge has again hidden all the tone and trim of thirty pounds ago. Sigh.

I swore I would not let this happen again.

I’ve crossed over that line of youth and am now in my forties… I have a hormone deficiency and I’ve been taking shots, oral meds, and oils for years to try and trick my body into thinking it’s “normal” (which it’s anything but normal and properly functioning)… I’m busy working two jobs (one of which is a cake decorating business for cry’n out loud!) and I’m eyebrow deep in raising my family… I’m kind of genetically doomed for being overweight (sorry mom)… And this summer I developed an issue with my feet ~ bunions. Yes, I am dealing with some crazy sore old lady feet issues that have left me unable to wear anything but flip flops this summer. And we all know we just can’t run or do any kind of exercise with sore feet. I’ve allowed it to become my greatest excuse for lazy.

And then there’s eating healthy, I’m not even going to go there… Healthy is just hard. Healthy is a crazy personally unattainable goal of proper rest, diet, and exercise. I’ve again fallen into this really bad mindset that if I can’t attain perfection in these three areas by tomorrow (ok, maybe by next week), that I’m just not even going to try. I’m not even going to worry about improvement, or doing them “better” than I did yesterday.

I’ve tried to justify and convince myself “this is who I am and that’s ok.”
But it’s really not ok, and I think we all know this truth as well.

I really don’t want to be this heavy and this out of shape, but I haven’t been able to find the energy to take on trying to change it. I don’t want to get all crazy and become a gym guru, I don’t want to start some crazy diet plan that will only set me up for failure and cost a small fortune. How many times haven’t I looked at a diet plan and thought, oh I could do that – and I would probably feel better and lose some weight. And then I think about myself when I am dieting hard core… I’m edgy and I’m basically really hard to live with, I often get obsessive and slightly mental. Yes, I could probably give up sugar, flour, gluten, chocolate, AND caffeine for 30 days… but frankly, I really don’t want to. I happen to really really like coffee, chocolate, and carbs.

The amount of work it takes to give up and tone up is often more than what I’m willing or able to sacrifice for my sanity and time availability. Does anyone besides myself really care how much space in this world I am taking up? Despite what tv is flashing at us at with every channel change, I highly doubt anyone really personally cares all that much about my weight beyond myself.

Yes, my doctor wants me to be healthy. Yes, society at large wants me to buy in to fad diet plans, pink drinks, gym memberships, and the purchasing of tight fitting yoga pants and active wear. And yes, my husband would probably like me to be thinner ~ but I’m also pretty sure he does not want to have to live through the cranky mood swings I’m going to experience and explode upon him during another journey to get there.

So, what do I do with this reality? How do I convince myself it’s time to get a little more healthy and that the battle with be worth it? How do I just get back to what I was before?

Ten pounds… how do we start with a simple, yet ginormous goal of losing ten pounds without getting obsessed, depressed, or overly crazy?

This is the question I’ve asked myself over and over this week, which makes me believe that this is a quiet whisper God is nudging me to do, and it’s time. I believe He is trying to help set me up to be blessed and not obsessed this time around. But ultimately, I'm still the one that has to do it.

I’ve asked two friends to walk beside me and hold me accountable, to help encourage me to just figure out how and where to even start. I know we all know the basic principles of WHAT to do and HOW to start ~ move more and eat less. It’s the getting started that I think is a little tricky for most of us.

For me right now, I’m going to say my “getting started” is just putting it out there that it’s something I know I need to do. Will it start today? I don’t know. Or will I put it off until tomorrow – or next week – or heaven forbid next month or next year? Can I admit to you I’m eyeing a bag of tortilla chips, cheese queso, and salsa and thinking perhaps I’ll consider starting after eating a good fill of those bad boys?!?

Ten pounds people. We can do this! Ten pounds is my challenge today to myself and to you. Actually, let’s just start with nine pounds! That’s still in the single digits!

Next challenge we will take on the double digits!

{ next weight journey update HERE }
{ next blog post }

Season of Change

It’s 5:30am and I’m sitting in the dark, coffee in hand, electric embers of a fireplace attempting to convey an intimate, yet very programmed ambiance. The dog is curled on the pillow beside me on the couch, and while I’m lazy and thinking of climbing back into bed, I don’t. Today is not for sleeping in… today is for hanging on just a little bit longer. Today I need to assure myself a few more hours here… a few more breaths of peace, calm, and nature’s beauty at its quiet finest.

My heart is a mix between smiling with amazing memories and extreme gratitude, marbled with an enormous heaviness knowing the end is almost here. Not an end end… but an end of season none-the-less.

Change, no matter what kind or for what reason, is never easy.

Next weekend will be our last weekend at the lake for this season. When I turn around and glance behind me, I say over and over “Wow the summer went by soooo fast!” But, if I take the time to click through all my photos (thousands and thousands of them neatly organized in weekly folders on my computer) of our journeys and memories here this season, I am beyond in awe at how much we have done, seen, shared, experienced, and been blessed with. I am again truly humbled by the amazing community we have become a part of here.

God clearly had a much bigger plan for our little family in deep mourning on that first weekend we arrived here last spring. And as hard as that is to understand, I am grateful.

Twenty-two weekends we were granted at the lake this summer. Twenty-two weekends of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Twenty-two weekends of sun, sand, laughter, tears, and amazing food. Twenty-two weekends of real life, true love, and forever friends and family.

I sit here, honestly wondering how I will get from next weekend until next April when we can return. I wonder how I will be able to will myself to lock the camper door and just drive away knowing we won't return for seven months. I fight back the tears just thinking about it.

A final, yet really-only-temporary goodbye, for a really long time has almost again arrived.

It’s not that I’m not excited for what’s next… to have time to scrapbook again, to have my husband out hunting again, and for us to embark in all the fun winter activities we will surely experience… But just knowing very very soon there will be goodbyes here, there will be the closing of our camper, and my van - filled with myself, my eight year old, my puppy, my camera, and our weekend food supply, will no longer make the weekly journey down the highway from our driveway at home to our driveway at the lake. No more sunsets over still waters, no more mornings on the deck drinking coffee as the sun breathes its hellos, no more campfires across the way, no more campground community filled with its golf cart traffic, conversations, laughter, gossips, beach time, water activities, and its special healing salve which somehow combines everything good and spreads itself instantly over the not-so-great hurts, disappointments, and stresses of my every day life away from here.

As I try use up the contents of our pantry and slowly continue to empty out the fridge and freezer after an entire season of being fully stocked, as we take a few things home each weekend (the boat, the jetski, the paddle boat, the golf cart…) and as we plan and prepare for the big weekend next weekend, that final weekend when we have to drive away knowing we won’t be coming back for a long, long time… I can’t help but think about how someday this might be us in our big house as we prepare to move from home to nursing home. But that farewell will not be followed by the return of a spring hello. That farewell however, will bring us one step closer to our Heavenly hello.

All these continued change of seasons I know will continue to bring us closer and closer to that final change of season. Unfortunately we will never know when each of our final seasons are going to be. It's my reminder how I must never take one day, one moment of my life for granted (even though I know I will ~ I always do).

I’m already thinking ahead to next summer and I earnestly pray we will all be returning. I pray none of us lose a spouse or a child in this next season. I pray no one is diagnosed with cancer or great illness in this next season. It’s not that I think of myself as a pessimist, but more a realist. I think this happens to people after moments of great loss. Your eyes suddenly see life differently and you realize life and health are not guaranteed, and you spend a little more time appreciating what we do have, and analyzing the how’s and why’s of what we do amid how we live in a more grounded and realist manner. Perhaps it’s my defense mechanism against the emotional and spiritual pain of loss and disappointment. I got caught off guard once in life, and swore it would never happen again.

I’m also struck with the reality that the bigger my friend group grows, the greater the chance for someone within us to experience loss, to experience illness, to mourn, grieve, lose… It’s one of those great risks that come when you allow yourself to love on a greater and grander scale beyond yourself. And of course, on the flip side, I know we will also get the opportunity to experience the great joys and celebrations of additions and accomplishments with each other as well. It's interesting how I’m 41 years old and really, for the first time in life, learning about the true meaning and advantages of great friendships.

We all have many many seasons before us. Lord willing we will be granted years and years of continued endings and beginnings.  But as fast as time is speeding by, I know it will only be a few more blinks before nearly all of our lifetimes will behind us. Like this moment, which I am desperately trying to slow and savor, I pray all of the coming seasons I can intentionally do the same with. May I always be looking ahead asking what it is I need from this season to help carry me successfully through the following season to come.

I pray as I continue to walk through the upcoming seasons of change in my life that I won't get caught up in the mundane of the moment, the continued chaos of the crazy, and the overwhelm of the unknown. I pray that as I am blessed to continue through each new season that I will be able to breathe deep my true meaning and purpose. May I not get lost and drown in all life’s daily details.

May the quiet sunrises shrouded in humid fog get me through the cloudy days when the sun won’t shine for days on end. May the three digit heat of this season get me through the below zero temps of the next.

May the summer sunsets of this season carry me through the winter storms of next season.

{ next blog post }

Book Club 6

And my summer reading catch up continues... :-)

A Beautiful Mess – Danielle Strickland
How God Re-creates Our Lives

This was another great book. I read it in three days. I may have underlined a strong third of the book, and I may have only been borrowing it (oops ~ wink). I hope what I underlined will help the next reader to connect, relate, agree with my “ah-ha” points of exclamation, and not hinder the message they are to take from it.

This book was bought through my work, at a Leadership Conference we recently attended, knowing it was a book I was probably going to gravitate towards and identify with (the title alone pretty much calls my name, right?!). This book centers around the theme of embracing the chaos in our lives, and work, and allowing God’s light to shine into our darkness, making room for growth, clarity, and redirection. It was about control, and order, and holding on, and resting (all huge areas of discourse and struggle for me)… and about ultimately trusting God’s purpose, timing, and situations in our lives. At the end of each chapter there was a section of questions to spend time in self-reflection. I think this would make an excellent small group Bible study, that I would personally love to go through again within a trusted circle of a few others in deep and heady conversation and discussion.

Book Quote “The truth is that we are afraid of things we can’t control. Chaos in uncontrollable – by its definition you can’t predict what it will do or what effect it will have. This makes those of us who fear change and loss of control very uneasy. We like to know what we are facing and we like to control our environment. But chaos doesn’t care about our fear. Chaos enters and turns everything upside down. Perhaps this is the right treatment for those of us who think we hold it all together; those of us who are afraid of change and afraid of circumstances outside of our control. This “mess” called chaos reorders things in our lives… shifting and changing our values and reminding us of what’s most important.”


Scary Close – Donald Miller
Dropping the Act and Finding True Intimacy

This was a book my friend brought and put on my desk after I texted “Out of books to read, no money for an amazon order, please bring me something…” I’m not sure if this book would have jumped out at me on its own, but I honestly love how God has always simply and carefully brought books into my hands through various avenues, within the appropriate seasons, for me to most benefit from reading them. I’ve learned to just trust this.

This book was also a good read, and one that I also read in less than a week. I thought the author was engaging and enjoyed his insights and raw honestly as he wrote about something he personally felt he wasn’t actually all that good at – relationships, connection, and intimacy. It wasn’t so much about introverts and extroverts and all the idiosyncrasies within personalities, but more about engaging in a daring authenticity, laborious self realizations, with identified and healing improvements. It was about identifying and letting go of control, and how we can find a freedom to get beyond our past hurts, fears, and control issues to earnestly work to live, love, connect, and be in true relationships with those around us, free of masks and half truths. Take the risk to be open, vulnerable, honest, and share your story…

Book Quote “There’s truth in the idea we’re never going to be perfect in love but we can get close. And the closer we get, the healthier we will be. Love is not a game any of us can win, it’s just a story we can live and enjoy. It’s a noble ambition, then, to add to the story of love, and to make our chapter a good one. We don’t think much about how our love stories will affect the world, but they do. Children learn what’s worth living for and what’s worth dying for by the stories they watch us live. I want to teach our children how to get scary close, and more, how to be brave. I want to teach them that love is worth what it costs”

Book Club 5

Holding On To Hope – Nancy Guthrie
A pathway through suffering to the heart of God

As I’ve said before, I have come to trust that most books that come into my path and are given to me, have God’s hand in their journey to my hands.

One day several months ago I was at work and someone came in to talk to me. She felt called to stop and to give me this book. After a meaningful and filling conversation, we hugged and she left the book on my counter. I did not immediately pick it up and dive in. It wasn’t until several months later that I actually opened up the book and started reading beyond the front and back cover.

I have to admit, I was honestly shocked to realize the book was about the loss of the authors infant daughter who suffered from a rare genetic disease. Honestly, nowhere on the outside of the book was this little detail shared. I honestly got about five pages in and wasn’t sure I wanted to continue reading. But I did. It was a hard read, but it was also a good read. As I continued to turn the pages, I did find myself knowing that had I tried to get through this book any earlier, I would not have been able to. I would not have been at a place where I was just ever-so-slightly ahead of that initial bottom-of-the-barrel intense pain and lost-ness the author is initially addresses and holding her hand out to her readers to grab onto. I was a few baby steps into my healing and self awareness of my loss and pain, which allowed me to actually be able to let myself venture in just a little deeper and a little further in the healing journey.

The author paralleled her story of loss with the story of Job, and at the end of the book there is an 8 week study with daily questions and points to ponder. It would be great for a personal study, or within the circles of a group bible study. While reading this book, I found myself going back into the book of Job and diving deeper into this book of the Bible I tend to completely ignore. I read the story for the story it was, and I went back and started reading it all again, looking at it closer and more personally within the context of grief and loss.

I did get myself through the book, and it was a well written book, it just hit really, really close to home for me. I have not been able to get myself to pick it back up and commit to walking myself through the daily 8 week Bible study though. I photocopied the lessons and slid them into the pages of my Bible. I look at it on occasion and think it is something I know I should do, but I’m not exactly at the point of having it be something I want to do. Sometimes we do just need to do that which we don’t want. Sometimes it’s just easy to put that need off a little longer.

Quote “The day after we buried Hope, my husband said to me, ‘You know, I think we expected our faith to make this hurt less, but it doesn’t. Our faith gave us an incredible amount of strength and encouragement while we had Hope, and we are comforted by the knowledge that she is in heaven. Our faith keeps us from being swallowed by despair. But I don’t think it makes our loss hurt any less.’”

Carry On, Warrior – Glennon Doyle Melton
Thoughts On Life Unarmed
This is a book I borrowed (you know, because I’m all out of money to order any of my list of waiting amazon books...) and took on vacation. I read it in one day. Less than 24 hours. I couldn’t put it down. It wasn’t my book so I didn’t underline anything, but basically, this book – this author, could have been living inside my head. I could not get over how much I connected with this author as I read her book. The crazy inside her head – totally matches the crazy inside my head. Scary close really.  

I had read some of Glennon’s momastery.com blog posts, but I’m not a faithful follower. I have watched her TedTalk, which I loved, and she pops up now-and-again in my facebook feed, which I sometimes click on and sometimes don’t. I was fairly certain it was a book I’d enjoy, I wasn’t prepared how spot on I connected with most of her writing and thoughts.

So, what is this book about you’re probably thinking. Ummmm… life. Real life stuff. Messy, obsessive, control, addiction, eating disorders, grace, kids, husband, relationships, family, forgiveness, fear, hard work, mom work, wife work, trying to be enough, failing, winning, trying… and a beautiful testimony of God’s presence and love woven all throughout. As I read it I couldn’t help but think two things – One: there might actually be other people out in this world dealing with an internal and external “crazy” besides myself (here I thought I had to honestly be the only one day-in-and-day out simply trying to survive myself, let alone survive what the rest of what the world is trying to fling at me) or Two: there are going to be people who pick this book up, and have no idea what in the world this Glennon is talking about, with a raised eyebrow and odd expression on their faces. I personally just found it refreshing to realize, maybe it’s not just me… I am not alone…

Book Quote “When you start to feel, do. When you start to feel scared because you don’t have enough money, find someone to offer a little money. When you start to feel like you don’t have enough love, find someone to offer love. When you feel unappreciated and unacknowledged, appreciate and acknowledge someone else in a concrete way. When you feel unlucky, order yourself to consider a blessing or two. Then find a tangible way to make today somebody else’s luck day. These strategies help me sidestep wallowing every day”

Book Quote 2 “I pray and pray for God to help me feel some peace and stillness in the midst of my mommy life instead of feeling constantly like a dormant volcano likely to erupt at any given moment and burn my entire family alive. And God say: Well G, here’s the thing. Peace isn’t the absence of distraction or annoyance or pain. It’s finding Me, finding peace and calm, in the midst of those distractions and annoyances and pains.”

Book Club 4

Well, my eyes have apparently been busier than my fingers this summer.

I just looked at my growing stack of books I’ve read, realizing I have not blogged any Book Club posts in months.

I’ve spent an intentional summer trying to rest and live in a season of slow. Some weeks I went without reading anything, other weeks I couldn’t put them down, eagerly looking forward to the weekends or evenings.

Here are a few of what I've read this summer...

The Firstborn Advantage – Dr Kevin Leman
Making Your Birth Order Work For You

This was a book I bought and had on my shelf for a few years now. I’d gotten part way through, and for whatever reason, never finished it. I was through all my other books, and plucked this out because I really didn’t have much else to pick from. The back of the book say “You’re driven. You have big plans and dreams. You demand a lot out of yourself, you’re the benchmark setter, you’ve always done what’s expected of you…” Ok, so I may identify a little with that, doesn’t everyone? Well apparently not. :-) This book is an interesting look at the different personalities and behaviors associated with our birth order, which I personally found extremely interesting. I am a complete, spot on First Born: organized, natural leader, reliable, list maker, perfectionist, creature of habit, over achiever, pursuer of excellence… yeah, I know… It gave science and insight behind many of the reasons I am apparently the way I am, and why I do the things I do. Why I struggle with what I struggle with within me. It explained how my upbringing also strongly affects my habits and tendencies, and how how I am parenting is also affecting the way my children will be affected as they grow up. I found a lot of this area very humbling and scary.

I found it interesting though, that as I read and thought about the birth order and personalities of my husband and children, that none of them really fit their expected mold like I did. I wondered about that, and while much of that is still puzzling to me, a lot is explained when you look at the different variables and parental factors within each person. It really is all quite intricately woven and intriguing, but I can’t say that by the time I closed the book I really knew how to live my life differently so that my “birth order would work better for me” like the cover of the book claimed. But, it did leave me with an understanding and insight as to personality quirks and oddities and why certain relationship dynamics are the way they are. And it did give helpful insights and clarity for things to watch for within our relationships and leadership rolls.

Book Quote: “Balance is a crucial issue for a firstborn. Firstborns need permission to be able to relax. We struggle commonly with time management, stress management, and prioritizing because we tend to take on a lot… in fact, too much."


The Connect Child – Karyn Pruvis and David Cross
Bring Hope and Healing to Your Adoptive Family

This was another book out of my library that I have read before, many times in fact. It’s probably a book I should just continually read over and over and over. Every time I read it I underline a few more things, and take away and connect with a few more nuggets of understanding.

This book contains amazing insights, help, and support for parents and care givers who deal with children who have special behavioral or emotional needs. This is a book I wish every care giver, educator and anyone in a leadership roll with children and youth would be required to read and study.  It's such good, good stuff.

The first time I read this book our youngest child, who is adopted, was very little. There were a few habits and traits we were already starting to stumble over with him, but it would be coming back and reading it again the second, third, fourth times as the years have continued, that this book has really offered a sense of hope and light into difficult daily parenting for me. Hand-in-hand with this book, my husband and I also took a multi-week seminar covering this same material as well a few years ago. I would have to honestly say that this has been one of the most transformational tools for the small successes we have made in our home, and a great reminder and help of basic points and logic as we continue through issues we struggle with. It offers understandable science and basic reasoning behind behaviors with useful strategies and phrases to help bring an environment of healing, health, and connection within the difficult relationships. It’s a change in direction and thought from the world’s standard way of dealing with learning and behavioral issues, explaining why it’s important to first identify the cause of the behavior, before you will ever be able to deal with the behavior itself.

Book Quote: “At-risk children can easily feel alienated and cornered, alone and against the world. Feeling that way, it is almost guaranteed that they will come out fighting, manipulating, or fleeing. Then, the only adult attention they receive is endless scolding and punishment. Soon this dysfunctional dynamic becomes a habit, and the children learn to seek familiar and available attention by acting out, which is a scary and miserable way to live. You have a unique opportunity to change that scenario by building a bridge to the world for your at-risk children… Instead of seeing yourself as the victim of a pint-sized terrorist, begin seeing your role as a compassionate, nurturing guide and ally for your little one. Respect and honor the child’s needs, even when you don’t entirely understand what drives them.”