Making Sense of Sensibility

This.

2010-11-03T00:50:00.000-07:00

You were my everything, my all
I gave myself up in the fall
Somewhere between the there and here
My love was lost behind the fear.
So afraid of what might be
That we never could become
Our dreams were just beyond our reach
So very very far beyond,
impossible.

I don’t want to do this anymore where you’re the only one who lives
I don’t want to do this anymore
Feeling dead in my own skin
Where I keep wishin for somthing more
Cause that is where I am
And I don’t want to do this anymore.
This is it. This is the end.

What is left for me out there?
I couldn’t say cause I don’t know
I have never been anywhere
And if I ever let me go
I might get lost
But I might be found
Would you want to be around
When what’s between comes into view
And its not me, the one you knew?

I don’t want to do this anymore
How did it get to be so far
From who I am and who we are
The distance grows and grows and I don’t want to do this
Anymore.

I don’t want to do this anymore where you’re the only one who lives
I don’t want to do this anymore
Feeling dead in my own skin
Where I keep wishing for something more
Cause that is where I am
And I don’t want to do this anymore.
This is it. This is the end.

The end of what was
The start of a new thing
I want to live in the land of the living.
I want to feel it when we touch.
I want to breathe till I lose my breath
And I hope and pray that it’s the end of the beginning
Not the beginning
Of the end.

Cause I don’t want to do this anymore.

Time After Time ~ Re-visted from 2009

2010-10-04T17:56:00.000-07:00

As the days get shorter and one of the busiest summers of my life comes to a close, my heart is relishing the slower pace that fall brings for our family. I thought this little dittie was worth re-posting. Hope it is a pleasent reminder to enjoy the moments and not just count the minutes.

Irony is one of my favorite literary (and life) devices. Thus, I am quite amused with myself at the moment. You see, in the last two weeks I have felt compelled to write about time. Or the seeming lack thereof.
It has taken me two whole weeks to sit down and put my thoughts together. (chuckle, chuckle, snort. Yes, I snort when I laugh. No, I do not do it on purpose...

Time.
Pace of life.

If you are anything like me and many (if not most) of my family and friends, when asked to describe your pace of life your answer would be:

Busy.
Crazy.
Hectic.
Full.

Most of us run around like proverbial chickens, heads gone flying, minds clouded and overwhelmed by all we feel we must accomplish in a day, a week, a lifetime.

Once we add precious children to our lot, it seems that the seconds inevitably just tick away at a steadier (and I swear faster) pace. We wish them along from milestone, to milestone. I can hear my own words echo back at me from my own experience....

"Rachel is rolling over; I can't wait until she sits up!"
“She crawled...she will be walking soon!"
"Once she can talk and play things will get really fun!"

And on and on I went, just wishing away each season, like the man in summer who begged for fall, only to find winter's chill incredibly alluring once the leaves actually began to change.

Of course some of my wishing was simply excitement at my daughter’s growth and development. Our children change so much at such an alarming rate in their early years, that I have found myself repeating what my own parents would say to me when I was young, "Just wait, the years only pass faster once you have children of your own," to friends with children a few years younger than ours or not yet blessed with the pitter-patter of little feet and dirty hand prints on white walls.

This year has been a little different. Well, more recently, it has been A LOT different.

This year, I have spent 6 weeks of the 52 allotted for 2009 on bed rest. The first couple of weeks I barely managed to stave off a deep depression. Staring at the ceiling, spending far too many hours alone with my thoughts is not my idea of a joy ride.
Three weeks in to my forced time of rest, something in me began to shift. As I sat, alone with my thoughts, often reading back over journal entries I had in previous months I was given a revelation.

I had asked for this.

I had prayed that God would show me how to live my life out of a place of rest, stillness, peace.

The evidence proving fault was right there in my journal in black and white. Penned by my own hand. I had asked, and God answered my request with a resounding , "Yes and Amen"

Anyone who knows me, would tell you I am a "Doer." I like to be active. Social. Though I do require moments of Solitude to maintain my sanity, I find much joy in activity. Though with age I have gained some maturity and grown in my ability to sit still, it is not my primary nature to be at rest. Thank God I am no longer alive to my primary nature!

I am alive in Christ, and being transformed into His likeness, so really, as I ponder it now it makes absolute sense that He so gladly gave me six weeks of forced medical rest. I needed that forced physical rest for a season so He could plant the seeds of His rest in my soul. God only knows there is likely no other way I would have sat still long enough for fertilization, let alone germination!!

So He has sewn the seeds of rest.

And now I must choose to water them. I must choose to grow in this. Not just talk about how badly I want to slow down, or live at a slower pace, but actually live this out.

I must choose to not over-schedule myself, my family, my mind.

I must choose to pursue Peace. To hold on to it. To live life out of a cultivated stillness rather than an anxious busyness. I must ask the Lord to still me, each day, to enable me to abide in His Peace and move out into my day's activities from that place rather than just making a list and beginning to check it off as soon as I open my eyes.

Am I alone in this list making? Do you have a list? (Please say you have a list.)My list, which I found MUCH joy from checking off item by line item) used to look like this:

• Quiet time (Maybe checked off)
• Gym Time (Maybe checked off)
• Play Time with my Daughter (Maybe checked off)
• Work Time (Always checked off)
• Me time (Maybe checked off)
• Husband time (Usually checked off)
• Household "Duties" or other errands time (Usually checked off)

For all of us list makers, let me be clear. I am not suggesting that there is anything inherently wrong with my list making. On the contrary, getting into a routine and maintaining an efficient household is not a bad thing...it can be a very good thing. As my fellow out-law (my brother in law) has so aptly said, the world is run by type A people.
But for most of my adult life I have been ruled by my list.

I do not want to be ruled by a list. Not one I make and certainly not one that my perception of other's expectations would create for me.

I want to be ruled by the Prince of Peace.

He is the Lord of my life. (And my lists)

So, in this season of life I am stepping out and trying something new. I am living without lists. Instead, I am asking the Holy Spirit to remind me of things that need doing and those that don't. I am choosing peace over worry. Instead of stressing over the inevitable reality that I just can not get it all done, can not be all things I need to be to all the people I feel I need to be, I am simply-not. Much to my surprise, I have not missed much. My world has not come to a screeching halt just because I don't have a list to check off. I have been more intimately in touch with friends and family, and the relationships that truly matter are being fostered and are growing.

I am not living stuck in the wheel of failed expectations. Overwhlemed by the stress of letting people down (myself included)

INSTEAD....
I am living a balanced, restful, peaceful, sometimes fast, sometimes slow life.
And I love it.

I have found out that I am better when I go slower. A better wife. A better mommy. A better friend. Just better.

Fear & Wisdom

2010-09-21T01:11:00.000-07:00

Somewhere off at a distance that seems further away than it actually is, the waves bellow as they collide with the rocks that line the coast. Restless. Struggling. Crashing. Something has to give.

They wrestle within her so fiercely. It is as if they both believe they each belong. But she knows, beyond knowing that both cannot occupy the same place in her heart, in her mind.

Fear & Wisdom.

It is striking that each one raises up within her such different urges. Makes sense. Opposite forces breed opposing instincts. One wants to settle in to Peace; the other cries out like a wounded animal to run screaming from the mention of the word. Wisdom welcomes peace, pursues it like a kite after the wind. Fear? Fear runs from stillness, runs from quiet, runs from peace, headlong in to the dark embrace of whatever distraction first offers it's nimble fingers grasp around her heart.

What is she afraid of?

It isn’t so much the silence that she most fears. At first glimpse that may be the believable facade that many take for granted as true. But she knows better. She has lingered long enough with the questions and knows it is much more simple and profound all at once.

It isn’t the stillness either. Being still is difficult; it requires discipline. Discipline she lacks (she has believed that lie enough times over that it feels true.) But she knows better. She has done the discipline and knows she can live there, in the routine of right and wrong, black and white, all of the color draining out through the leaky places in her heart left un-mended. She can. She has. She probably will again.

But the questions. The questions themselves are what keep her awake at night. If she is quiet too long, sits still long enough, surely the questions will come again.

What if they are left unanswered?

That is what the Fear whispers. The Fear speaks and the air fills up to thick and claustrophobic with Doubt, History, Insecurity. Anchors to all the lies she has ever believed. Anvils smashing the life out of her broken hearted yesterdays. Leaving nothing but rubble to build upon for her tomorrows. The fog of Fear is familiar, inviting her to cozy up and stay. In the haze. Stay indoors. Stay where it is nearly impossible to see through to the other side.

Wisdom is True. Wisdom sets free. Breathes new life into every glimpse of Hope that could possibly occupy the smallest corner of her soul. Wisdom speaks and echoes fill the atmosphere in her imagination with words like Opportunity, Possibility, Dreams, and even Transformation. So what if the questions are left unanswered?! She is not alone.

She is significant.
She is beautiful.
She has purpose
She can be great.
She can dream. Trust. Risk.

HE is there with her. ALWAYS.

She settles into the quiet of night. Falls into the embracing lull of the waves caressing the shoreline. She lets the questions come now, for they no longer hold her hostage with their uncertainty. Her fingers woven gently around her warm mug, legs curled up to her chest, wrapped in her favorite throw. She is still. She listens. To the voice of God. He is there with her.

Wisdom wins.

Au•then•tic [aw-then-tik]

2010-09-02T21:46:00.000-07:00

adjective

1. Not false or copied; genuine; real: an authentic antique.

Lately the word has haunted me.

It is a happy haunt. Despair has no place to breathe amongst the hallway of my mind; no power to wreak havoc on my soul. It is simply that the longing will not leave. In truth, I have invited it's presence and would not be keen to see it go. If given a name, it could be called, the longing to be real. Genuine. Truthful. Deep. Transparent. To carry inside of me this very spirit of authenticity into every relationship, each encounter (brief or not), each casual passing by. And it does live in me. There exists within me a deposit of the genuine. Placed there, I believe, by the Author of all things Genuine. If this reads with an air of pride, please do forgive. No pride is intended with the previous statement. Only an effort to exude that very thing; authenticity.

So now, perhaps you recognize my trouble.

Or not.

I and many in my generation have adopted this cry: “Authentic!”

We want authentic leaders.

We want authentic friends.

We want our children to grow up to become their most authentic selves.

We want authentic politicians. (Possible oxymoron here, and that is for another day).

The cry for that in others must be answered first within.

How then, ought we to become our most authentic selves when constantly bombarded with the insecurities of our own hearts and those of the hearts around us? What brief life experience I have gathered thus far has shown me is that becoming my truest, best self is only possible if I am willing to travel the road of self-discovery with others who love me and are committed to helping me (and I, them) become better. More. What God intends I become.

And the terrain is often rough.

When I acknowledge I am good at being authentic, it sounds arrogant. Previously, I have been quick to apologize, explain, and excuse myself. Revelation has led to the discovery that it is not arrogance, but simply owning who I am discovering myself to be in light of what God created in me! Socially, it is not widely acceptable to be that honest. Saying, “I think, perhaps I may be good at... ”Or, "I am O.K..." is generally much easier for most of us to grant. Acknowledging what we are good at is most often considered boastful, proud, and self-promoting; especially if you actually like yourself. How ironic, then, that in an era where our cry for the authentic to step forward, it is our own insecurities that often hold back not only ourselves but also those closest to us, whom we love, from becoming our best selves.

What if we considered it truly a gift to be ourselves?

And what if we gave freely that gift to others?

The last few months in our little slice of the world have been full. Full of life. Ups and downs and everywhere in between. Full of learning and self-discovery. Not in the narcissistic sense that leads many of us to discover how wonderful we are and how the world ought to go on spinning, only with us at the center. Rather it is a self-discovery that comes only after seeing more clearly who God is. Of course we "see in part" still, recent months and events have left me with more understanding of the nature of God. Of Love. Hence, self-perception changes. Since I exist to live and move and breathe in Him, then seeing Him more clearly can only shed more light on who I am. Who He created me to be.

And He created me to be real.

Genuine.

Authentic.

I am good at it. (Most of the time)

If you live in my slice of the world, if my sphere of influence touches yours, then I can only hope that my working this out, my efforts to put this on its feet in my own life, opens some kind of door for you. One that you can walk through easily and join me in a place that is sincere and authentic...and can admit to the moments those very traits are lacking. And I want to know, what are you good at? Because, my friend, I want to fan the flames of your best self. I want you to feel safe with me. Safe enough to bring all of yourself, sit on the couch with me, glass of wine in hand, warmth in our hearts and enjoy friendship. Authentic. Real. Sometimes hard, but always true.

Tran-si-tion [tran-zish-uhn]

2010-01-29T23:18:00.000-08:00

A noun

'Movement, passage, or change from one position or state, stage, subject, concept, etc. to another; change.'

We are in a state of flux. Transition. Both literal, being in between homes, and figurative (keep reading). As a result, I have limited access to computers, hence, I simply will not be able to write as often as I would like. The thought makes me a little sad, but if I am honest with myself (and whoever is reading this) it is likely a gift to me. One less thing to keep me from the Stillness I am being drawn in to.

In the midst of this transition, I am preparing to give birth to our first son. Hence, the word transition carries a slightly different nuance. Transition is one of the most painful stages of labor. It can happen quickly or not so quickly. Labor pains become increasingly painful and come closer together. However, once it is complete, the birth is about to take place. After long months of preparation, nurturing, learning, and yearning to encounter this new life face-to-face, the work is nearly complete. All that is left is the push to the finish. And then that moment, when suddenly, you have arrived in a new place. All that is behind hardly matters beyond the fact that those were the steps between there and here.

Here.
A New Place.
A New Life.

We are not there yet. We are still in transition.

And this is all I know:
Something is being born. In us. A new place.
A new way of being.
A new way of belonging to each other. To Our Father.

And this is what I have heard the Father say about this transition: " No Epidurals."

Don't get me wrong- In the natural, when the time comes for my son to make his journey from the safety and warmth of my womb into the bright, colorful, sometimes blurry world we exist in, I may very well opt for the blessed release of the anesthesiologists’ large needle. But in the super-natural, where we as a family are both literally and figuratively moving from one stage to the next, that is not an option for us. This is a good thing. Why? Because we will remember every contraction. Every pain. Every moment.

Once we "arrive;" when whatever is being birthed in us actually arrives, we will be able to stand in that moment,look back and recognize (not to mention fully appreciate) the process and how we walked it out. We will know, in the truest sense of knowing (that is, by our own experience,) just what the process meant. Perhaps we ma even gain a clue to the wonderful question that we, even now, ask. We ask and we wait. We sit at the Father's feet like a child anticipating a wonderful story about to be told in the most facinating of ways by her most favorite person...

No, the question is not, "Why?"

But rather, "What is this for?" and "What must we do?"

Time after Time

2009-11-22T17:29:00.000-08:00

Irony is one of my favorite literary (and life) devices. Thus, I am quite amused with myself at the moment. You see, in the last two weeks I have felt compelled to write about time. Or the seeming lack thereof.

It has taken me two whole weeks to sit down and put my thoughts together. (chuckle, chuckle, snort. Yes, I snort when I laugh. No, I do not do it on purpose.)

Time.

Pace of life.

If you are anything like me and many (if not most) of my family and friends, when asked to describe your pace of life your answer would be:

Busy.
Crazy.
Hectic.
Full.

Most of us run around like proverbial chickens, heads gone flying, minds clouded and overwhelmed by all we feel we must accomplish in a day, a week, a lifetime.

Once we add precious children to our lot, it seems that the seconds inevitably just tick away at a steadier (and I swear faster) pace. We wish them along from milestone, to milestone. I can hear my own words echo back at me from my own experience....

"Rachel is rolling over; I can't wait until she sits up!"

“She crawled...she will be walking soon!"

"Once she can talk and play things will get really fun!"

And on and on I went, just wishing away each season, like the man in summer who begged for fall, only to find winter's chill incredibly alluring once the leaves actually began to change.

Of course some of my wishing was simply excitement at my daughter’s growth and development. Our children change so much at such an alarming rate in their early years, that I have found myself repeating what my own parents would say to me when I was young, "Just wait, the years only pass faster once you have children of your own," to friends with children a few years younger than ours or not yet blessed with the pitter-patter of little feet and dirty hand prints on white walls.

This year has been a little different. Well, more recently, it has been A LOT different.

This year, I have spent 6 weeks of the 52 allotted for 2009 on bed rest. The first couple of weeks I barely managed to stave off a deep depression. Staring at the ceiling, spending far too many hours alone with my thoughts is not my idea of a joy ride.

Three weeks in to my forced time of rest, something in me began to shift. As I sat, alone with my thoughts, often reading back over journal entries I had in previous months I was given a revelation.

I had asked for this.

I had prayed that God would show me how to live my life out of a place of rest, stillness, peace.

The evidence proving fault was right there in my journal in black and white. Penned by my own hand. I had asked, and God answered my request with a resounding , "Yes and Amen"

Anyone who knows me, would tell you I am a "Doer." I like to be active. Social. Though I do require moments of Solitude to maintain my sanity, I find much joy in activity. Though with age I have gained some maturity and grown in my ability to sit still, it is not my primary nature to be at rest. Thank God I am no longer alive to my primary nature!

I am alive in Christ, and being transformed into His likeness, so really, as I ponder it now it makes absolute sense that He so gladly gave me six weeks of forced medical rest. I needed that forced physical rest for a season so He could plant the seeds of His rest in my soul. God only knows there is likely no other way I would have sat still long enough for fertilization, let alone germination!!

So He has sewn the seeds of rest.

And now I must choose to water them. I must choose to grow in this. Not just talk about how badly I want to slow down, or live at a slower pace, but actually live this out.

I must choose to not over-schedule myself, my family, my mind.

I must choose to pursue Peace. To hold on to it. To live life out of a cultivated stillness rather than an anxious busyness. I must ask the Lord to still me, each day, to enable me to abide in His Peace and move out into my day's activities from that place rather than just making a list and beginning to check it off as soon as I open my eyes.

Am I alone in this list making? Do you have a list? (Please say you have a list.)My list, which I found MUCH joy from checking off item by line item) used to look like this:

• Quiet time (Maybe checked off)

• Gym Time (Maybe checked off)

• Play Time with my Daughter (Maybe checked off)

• Work Time (Always checked off)

• Me time (Maybe checked off)

• Husband time (Usually checked off)

• Household "Duties" or other errands time (Usually checked off)

For all of us list makers, let me be clear. I am not suggesting that there is anything inherently wrong with my list making. On the contrary, getting into a routine and maintaining an efficient household is not a bad thing...it can be a very good thing. As my fellow out-law (my brother in law) has so aptly said, the world is run by type A people.

But for most of my adult life I have been ruled by my list.

I do not want to be ruled by a list. Not one I make and certainly not one that my perception of other's expectations would create for me.

I want to be ruled by the Prince of Peace.

He is the Lord of my life. (And my lists)

So, in this season of life I am stepping out and trying something new. I am living without lists. Instead, I am asking the Holy Spirit to remind me of things that need doing and those that don't. I am choosing peace over worry. Instead of stressing over the inevitable reality that I just can not get it all done, can not be all things I need to be to all the people I feel I need to be, I am simply-not. Much to my surprise, I have not missed much. My world has not come to a screeching halt just because I don't have a list to check off. I have been more intimately in touch with friends and family, and the relationships that truly matter are being fostered and are growing.

I am not living stuck in the wheel of failed expectations. Overwhlemed by the stress of letting people down (myself included)

INSTEAD....

I am living a balanced, restful, peaceful, sometimes fast, sometimes slow life.

And I love it.
I have found out that I am better when I go slower. A better wife. A better mommy. A better friend. Just better.

What I gained through loss

2009-11-02T23:01:00.000-08:00

A friend recently asked me if I would share my baby story. At first thought, I was a bit scared to share. I have had a difficult road, but there are many, SO many that have walked a much more difficult path than I. So as not to trivialize my own story, nor attenuate the significance of each who has suffered, at whatever point and/or depth of experience, I will make this provision; there is grace for every journey. Capacity for every lesson that needs learning. I certainly didn't want to come off as self-indulgent or self-pitying. When sharing in something so personal, it would be easy for a reader to sit on the outside, without any "real" first-hand sense of what is being shared and judge the storyteller as one or the other. Then I was reminded of how sadly common a tale of loss it is, and just how tangible it could be for many women who might read my story....

I am currently four months into my second pregnancy this year. It would be difficult to tell the story of this pregnancy without venturing back into the travails of previous ripening experiences, and I want to be sure to give as much scope as possible...(so this is bound to be a bit lengthy)

I found out I was carrying our daughter five months into our marriage. Now, fortunately, I had married the man of my dreams AND we had been privy to some wonderful pre-marital counseling, so at least SOME tools were in place that allowed me to navigate the emotional shock of the news. You see, the man of my dreams was in the military. We had dated a year and a half at a distance, been married, lived in his parents' (God bless them!) studio apartment behind their house for two months and then traveled to his first duty station where we were living in a six-hundred something square foot apartment. For the first time since I graduated high school I was not working (at this point in my life, without a job, I felt I was completely lost for self-definition).So, I had begun preparing to go back to graduate school. Kids? Well they were a part of the three-five year plan, depending on how far up the academia ladder I aspired to climb.

And then it happened. I was pregnant. (Okay it didn't just "happen" but you get the point)

I laughed (filled with sarcasm)

I cried (perhaps moaned is a better word)

I was on bedrest for 6 weeks. (God had my attention)

And then, I adjusted. (Insert approximately 4 more blog posts about the journey of motherhood here.)

Okay, the adjustment part took the better of two years. But when I look at my sweet girl today, I CAN NOT imagine what life would be like without her. If I am being honest, I have not always felt that way about being a mom, so when it came time, meaning when I actually felt ready to try for number two it was a much different experience.

I was actually EXCITED.

As I had said, this is my second pregnancy this year. The first of our children to be born this year was born straight into the arms of Jesus in early April. Though it feels our dear one was gone too soon, a life lived far too shortly, the imprint our child has left upon my heart is one that will remain for a lifetime. Our second child is resting in the arms of Jesus, and there are moments in my days when that reality is the only solace that pushes me past the fear of what could be with this pregnancy.

A miscarriage is an odd, though unfortunately not rare, experience. Or at least that is what I found.

At first, there was nothing.

A deep sense of being empty, but no emotional reaction to the void.

People around me grieved for me. They were so sad for my sake. I felt guilty.

I asked myself, "Shouldn't I have felt...something? Anger? Pain? Relief? SOMETHING?!"

But the first few days there was just the emptiness.

And then it hit. The tidal wave of emotion. As I crawled into bed on the fourth night, my husband wrapped his arms around me. His hand touched my belly. That touch seemed to trigger the release of all that I had not been able to feel up until that moment. That night I nearly drowned in the sadness. I wept, long and hard, as so many others have for the child that I would not hold this side of Heaven.

I am celebrating each day of this pregnancy with deep joy. It has not been without trial. At week six I, once again, found myself on partial bedrest fighting for the life growing within me. Fighting by resting. My current journey of joy is so closely linked to the path of loss I have already tread. It is what I learned while traveling that path that allows me to walk through this pregnancy with joy and stand in opposition to every fear that attempts to cloud my mind and my heart.

There, standing on the path of loss, filled to overflowing with questions, fears, anger, sadness, one question begged answering. And the reply was so crucial that is would come to shape how I saw the world from that point on. "God, are you really GOOD?"

Before facing that point along my journey I would have answered with an easy and resounding,"Yes!" But this was the first time I had asked in earnest and given appropriate thought and space to the question. For several days I was not sure that I could give that same answer any longer.

But is finally came.The Peace. The Peace that comes only from the Prince of Peace. And I knew the answer was, and is, "Yes, my dear one I am GOOD. I give good gifts to my children. My purposes are GOOD."

God's good is eternal. I don't have to understand it to know it. His purposes are Kingdom purposes and His ways are higher than my ways. I know it. I believe it. I have come face to face with the question that shapes my entire world view, and I am elated at the reply.

God is good! Baby Peterson number three is on the way!

Growing Grace

2009-10-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

It has been over a year since I have posted anything here. It feels like it has actually been longer than that. When I first ventured out to begin this blog I sincerely questioned whether or not I had anything to say...or actually anything worth saying.

It has been a long year. A good year. A hard year.

A very good year.

Over the past year there have been several times I sat down to write. I would begin to comment on something fabulously frustrating about the economy, or disheartening about our culture...but always stopped short of actually posting. Who really wants to listen to a whiner?

It may seem odd for to somehow marry the two ideas; that all I had to say over the past year would have sounded like whining, and at the same time it has been a good year. But truth is that is exactly what has happened. While walking through it I wanted to whine and complain and vent and sometimes scream. Looking back on it, I am increasingly grateful for the things I have learned, despite the pain of learning them. Experience has shown me (thus far at least) that it is only hindsight that allows us to see the beauty of or trials for what they really are.

Until now.

What I know now (and I mean know as in 'this is beginning to be truly written on my heart and actually happen in my life') is that each and every day I get to choose whether or not to see the beauty, embrace the joy, and rejoice with a heart full of thanksgiving-trial or no trial.

I have this image of my self standing in the middle of my bedroom full of things I have often felt on any given morning over the past year. I am sure (or I guess I hope I am not alone) that we have all felt them.

Overwhelmed.
Confused.
Bored.
Angry.
Scared.
Lost.
Hopeless.

So there I stand. Feeling. Taking inventory of the depth of my sensibilities.

Now let me note that in this picture it is just me. There is no attack happening. I am not dealing with a mental illness, or events that are beyond the scope of most people's life experiences. I am just living. Feeling. Being human.

And in that moment I get to choose. Do I give in to the emotion of it all? Do I just get all up and entitled to feel without self control whatever I happen to be feeling and then wallow in it all day? Do I choose to give the enemy an entry point to begin to attack my mind?

OR

Do I Choose to practice peace? Do I choose to stop and rest at the feet of Jesus and truly cast my cares upon Him? Do I allow grace to work in my life and work into my life so that I can in turn operate in grace the rest of that day?

Who do I want to be? What do I want to let the Spirit accomplish in me today?

Do I want to be a woman, wife, mother, sister, friend, employee, who is gracious? Or not?

It sounds a bit oversimplified, and I suppose in theory it is. But in practice I am finding that it is anything but simple. Or easy.

It is hard. But it is good.

What to say....

2008-06-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

If you have ever driven through the Central Valley of California in the middle of January, at night, you most likely have experienced the trance inducing blindness caused by tulle fog. In order to survive this gift of nature, one must follow the tail lights of the car in front of them. The trick is to stay far enough behind so as not to slam in to said tail lights if one needs to slam on the brakes suddenly, but close enough that one can actually see the lights through fog that causes nearly zero visibility.
At the moment, I feel a little bit like that fog...so I am asking for some help....be my tail...lights. I promise not to tailgate too long...but if you would kindly offer your two cents about what I should address in this little blog o' mine, I would greatly appreciate it...

Thought # 1- God loves me...and I am increasingly aware of how short I fall of loving Him or the people he has called me to love (basically everyone) very well...

Thought #2- I am hooked on the Bachelorette. I want Deanna to find happiness and marital bliss....call it escapism, voyeurism, whatever, I just want the girl to be truly happy...

Thought # 3- Contentment....Rest...Peace....and.....life in transition...How the heck does that work?

Thought # 4- I have friends all over the US that I would LOVE to have all move to one place and raise kids with, experience the change with, grieve our losses together, celebrate our successes and milestones with, and I am beginning to admit to myself that most likely we will not all end up in the same city....this STINKS.

Thought # 5- My Husband....well he is just amazing. There are not enough words....though I might try...to express how grateful I am for the gift God has given me in my Renaissance Man of a Husband....(sighing wistfully)- no , really...I am.

So...I will likely write in some way shape or form about all of these...but where to start.

Lead on, you glowing red lights of direction....through the fog of my current caffeine deprived state....lead on.

Or you can just vote.

This One Goes Out To My Sweet Auntie KK

2008-06-08T21:50:00.000-07:00

"New Blog Tomorrow!!!" How is that for leaving them wanting more! HA!

Through Another's Eyes

2008-03-20T23:08:00.000-07:00

We are moving tomorrow. Now don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about the idea of doubling our living space, even if it does mean 15 extra minutes on the freeway when traveling anywhere...but moving is a chore! This is our sixth move in 3 1/2 years. Thank you very much to the US military. (Not a complaint. I completely knew what I was getting into when I married my husband, and he knew what he was getting into when he joined the service...) But since it is our sixth move we are actually finding that we are quite good at it. In fact we are nearly professional grade. Everything is taken care of down to the last detail. All the utilities transferred, TV service set up, phone service, moving truck, SUPER KIND people to help us move....we have it all. And in fact we have been enjoying planning for our new place. We spent a whole evening the other night wandering through IKEA trying to figure out how we were going to spend all the money we have saved decorating our new place....

But there was one thing that we managed...or I should say I managed to forget... (I wouldn't want to speak for my husband through a blog post-he says I do that enough for him anyhow)
And that, my friends, was that lovely thing we all need a dose of from time-to time. No, not Mylanta.....

Perspective.

Oh my....did the Holy Spirit have some plans to remind me of just how blessed we are.

I spent an hour today with a family that had been evicted form their apartment. They did not even have diapers for their precious son, Baby J. Mom had changed the last one when I came upon them in the parking lot.

This was actually the second time we had ran into each other.
You see, fifteen minutes earlier, a man had come by my table at Starbucks. There I was sitting with my brand new Kate Spade sunglasses on, sipping my 5 dollar coffee doing work that I am privileged to be able to do from home, or Starbucks, or anywhere else I please. Trying to figure out how I was going to add to my commission this year, when this man, dressed a little scruffy, walking with a limp, came by and asked me for help.

Of course I would help.

Are you hungry? Here ya go...

Trouble is I don't think I even heard what he originally asked for help with. I just assumed he was some vagrant, looking for a handout....and (I thought to myself so self rightously it now makes me actually ill at my stomach) "Of course I would never just give him money," so I gave him my drink.

Friends.....Friends!

Would someone PLEASE slap me. When, oh when, did I become so darn important that I no longer feel the need to listen to stranger finish a sentence?

Fortunately, I was about to get a big ol' kick in the hind parts....

So there I was feeling so very helpful one might have though I just single handly figured out ecaxtly how we ought to get our troops in Iraq home and hand delivered the solution to the President himelf. And then, I hopped back into my car to go to the chik-fil-a to get something else to eat, since I had oh so generously given away my drink.

And then came the Voice that speaks to the part of me that sometimes listens...and should do so more often...

"You didn't even listen to that man. You don't know what he needs. He needs Me."

So, I went back to the parking lot and, like a dog with my tail between my legs, pulled up next to the family of five in the parking lot, and swallowed my pride...

" I am sorry, I didn't listen to you. I just handed you my drink and I have no idea what you actually need. I want to help. What do you need? How did you get here?"

I found out from the father of the family that they all work, but don't have enough to pull togehter rent for the last couple of months and thus were living in a hotel room, and needed to manage 12 more dollars to keep the room for the night....and they needed diapers for the baby...and gas.

So, here I am, about to move into my new house with more space than we actually NEED, and this family of five is living in a motel room....without money for diapers....

I feel so overwhelmed with the power of God's provision in our lives and His mercy.....I mean , really.....who am I that I have it so amazingly wonderful? That we have food on the table, a roof over our heads....LOTS of new fun things to enjoy....

Friends...to say I am humbled...well, that feels a little bit too proud.

So, we are still moving into our house...but right about now, and I pray it stays this way... that house looks like a mansion.

And I will continue to pray that some day my new friends will enjoy with me a Mansion on hill, streets of gold, an eternity with no need, no tears, and the Love of a God who owns a thousand cattle on a thousand hills....

Oh, how I pray.

What I think of you...Kinda...

2007-12-09T00:16:00.000-08:00

What do I think of you?
(...as stolen and adapted from Ash, who stole it from Nicole, who perhaps stole it from various others.)

Leave your name in my blog comments. Once you do that, this is what I'll do for you...
1. I'll respond with some random thought about you.
2. I'll tell you what song or movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a place for us to visit, together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.

2007-11-26T21:23:00.000-08:00

This Saturday will be the 1st of December...DECEMBER PEOPLE!!! When did that happen?? Maybe its because each year that goes by I get a year older, and they say that with each year you age, life begins to pass more quickly. But WHOA. It is Christmastime, 2007.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love Christmas. I love Jesus (whom we celebrate-He really is the reason for the season) I love the smell of pine mixed with hot chocolate as we sift through tree after tree searching for "The One." I love carolling, and fortunately, I have married into a family who can do it quite well. Think Partridge Family mixed with a bit of Dilbert sense of humor...we have a blast. I love that my husbands family has different traditions than mine...
For instance, one of my first Christmas' spent with the Peterson clan we all gathered 'round the piano and sang (in six parts) parts of Handel's Messiah. No Joke. And we did it quite well...Aunt Trudy would not have it any other way. My family of origin does things a little more simply, we gather 'round the TV and watch "It's A Wonderful Life," for the umpteenth time....I used to despise that movie as a child, but as an adult, I have become so very fond of every scene....it really does represent a simpler time, that I, like my Father before me, find myself longing for. A slower pace. A smaller circle of dear friends.

Truly, I love so many things about this time of year.

What do you love about Christmas? OR What is your favorite family tradition...that you grew up with, grew into, or married in to....share and share alike...and we can get the Christmas fuzzies sparked up in our hearts early!

Life Is Sweet With Cousin Eiley

2007-10-18T00:06:00.000-07:00

Something's Afoot At Granna's House!

2007-10-18T00:05:00.000-07:00

Two Peas In A Pod...Or On A Bucket.

2007-10-18T00:03:00.000-07:00

A Guiltless Week's Reprieve

2007-10-16T22:37:00.000-07:00

Proviso: I have not written in a while...so this is a long one. If you get bored, stop reading and come back later. The next one will most likely be shorter. If you have five minutes, okay maybe ten...keep going.

Me thinks, perhaps, my life is too good to be true.

Seriously.

No, really. Keep Reading.

I have lived long enough (it doesn't take long) and have gained enough perspective (despite how narrow that perspective may actually be) that I realize I may not feel this way about my life forever. Perhaps not even for more than the next hour. Which is why it is imperative that I sit down and get this on paper-well, digitally speaking- this very moment.

I think I may be, at this place in time, the envy of nearly every mother of a young brood of men and women in training. I say NEARLY every women because I know there are a few of you mommies out there who might take offense at being grouped into a big pot of "Mommies who are overwhelmed with life," for concern of being labeled inept, or somehow tagged as one not quite motherly/nurturing enough. (Who makes the rules anyhow?)

Oh so unfortunately, this branding often comes at the hands of, or out the mouths of, other mommies who are in reality, quite likely to be experiencing that same end of the proverbial rope on the tips of their fingers, but don't feel free to own up to it either.

[Side Note: When the heck did Mothering get to be the newest measuring stick we women are using to beat our peers up with? Not to mention the damage we do ourselves in the process. That is a whole other day.]

I say (mind you it is only me saying this) BE FREE!!! I don't assume you need my permission, but in case you needed someone to say its okay, I am saying it. To you who might in any given moment of weakness may be my twin of a different mother and are barely resisting the urge to chew off every perfectly manicured nail and yank out every expertly highlighted strand of what runs the chance of being grey (only your stylist knows the truth) hair....

Its okay...you are not alone! BE FREE TO SPEAK THE TRUTH!

Here I go...I am taking the leap and admitting it.

As a mother I get overwhelmed. I, who only have one very well behaved two year-old. I can hardly imagine running around with several toddler/preschool-aged young children at my feet all of whom are constantly vying for my attention and care-at least not at this point in my life. My imaginary hat is tipped in honor of you amazing women who do this.

Only this past weekend I was surrounded by some amazing gals in my family who are so capable and wonderful at mothering they have done it (and lived to tell) three and four times over. After watching them reign in not only their own, but mine and several of her cousins as well and get them all working together, playing friendly and having fun, I had no choice but to pick my jaw up from off of the table I was sitting at-gaping in awe at the wonder before me – and admit that while I thoroughly enjoy my daughter, I am simply not ready for Baby Peterson part 2, 3, 4 or ...?? Perhaps with time, practice and some serious prayer, I too could enter the realm of multiple children...but not today, and thankfully we now know (due to amazing technologyof e.p.t.) NOT 9 months from now.

I digress. My original point.....which I manage to deviate from oh so wonderfully...my husband often says half the fun of listening to me rant is the game of guessing at how I might possibly tie it all back together....

....was that this week I am perhaps the very most fortunate mommy I have ever been because this week my daughter is enjoying the arm-in-arm, lets push each others' dollies around in plastic shopping carts and share giggles and secrets friendship of her darling cousin, Eiley. Eiley is her new favorite person. I am so grateful that they play together wonderfully and it is so fun to see them begin to tie strings of love and friendship that will last them a lifetime. I am however, most grateful that they are enjoying all of this bonding time at Granna’s house.

Wait, wait,wait. Now, before you start judging me for enjoying her absence too much or are overcome with jealously that your kids aren't at their Grandparents house this week, let me explain a bit of what is really behind my gratefulness.

My Mother-In-Love is an amazing woman. To say she has taught me a lot over the past few years, would be a gross understatement. Most precious to me of all of the gifts of wisdom she has previously or that which she continues to bestow to me is her love of God and Family, and the inseparable marriage of the two.

So, while my husband and I are enjoying a bit of a delectable second honeymoon....

While I am enjoying my new found liberty to sleep in a little bit longer.....

While I am very grateful for the reprieve....

I am most grateful that my daughter is learning about family this week and about God...under the watchful eyes of Granna and beside her cousins and Auntie. She is getting rooted deeply into who she is and what her life is truly about. She is being shaped by a village of family and that brings me joy unspeakable. (To steal a phrase from another lovely writer I know ;-) )

And I am getting the chance to miss her terribly, which I of course, do. I am certainly not used to not having her around. I keep waiting to hear her knock on my bedroom door and say, "Mommy, I all done wit nigh-nigh. I swept (slept) well."

But for now I have to figure out what to do with the rest of my week. And continue to not feel guilty about enjoying it.

Which begs the question...Push aside that twinge of Mommy guilt to shoot me back a response: What would you do if you had a week, or even a day's reprieve from your children?

Growing Up

2007-09-06T21:39:00.000-07:00

It is official, Rachel is a Pre-schooler. As she nearly skipped away from me today off towards the fun of finding new friends and learning new things, it hit me...REALLY HARD. She is growing up. Today she took the first of many steps she will continue to take away from me. She is beginning to individuate herself more everyday, which is, at first glance, a welcome relief. But then I stop long enough to realize that I have grown so fond of being needed by her. I love when she runs into my arms and squeezes my neck and plants kisses all over my face. It is precious to me that "Mommy," can make things better when she hurts just by holding her and singing a sweet lullaby in her ear.

All of it is so precious.

I realize it hardly is coming to an end. Rather this is just the beginning of the end of a season. She is no longer a baby. She is becomming a little girl. And it is okay. I am okay.(Breathe!)
She still does very much need me...to be there....to help....to love and laugh with her. To show her what it means to live life as a woman of God wholly secure that she is fully love by the One who will never let her down. There is NOTHING more secure than this. And for her, we ( Micah and I ) are the window through which she looks to catch a glimpse of that all encompasing Love. We must knit those bonds so tightly and securly with the strings of love and joy, that she might never wonder if....

If....she is loved.
If....she is beautiful.
If....she can.
If....

Becasue she is, and she can. And it is becasue she is His child that she IS.

I want her to grow up to be a young lady who is confident to take those future steps,the ones that take her further away from me, with confidence - knowing she is loved and believed in...but a secret place in my heart, I think, will always be waiting for her to come running back. Which she will do, for many years.

But one day, she won't.

Lord, how I need the Grace and Wisdom for that day...to prepare her and train her up into a young woman who ALWAYS runs into Your arms.

Like Father,Like....Daughter!

2007-08-29T21:41:00.000-07:00

2007-08-29T21:38:00.000-07:00

My little one, in Heaven! She just loves the water, Especially when she is playing with Daddy. A good friend once told me that watching her daughters and her husband grow together in the unspeakable bond that is between Daddy & His Girl, was like watching her husband fall in love all over again, in a completely new way. At the time I didn't really understand. I now know just what she meant. And I think I often find myself falling in love with the both of them over and over again. What Joy!

Blogging Random

2007-08-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

Once I get 30 minutes to myself to sit down and write....I think it might be something about how too dang busy we all are! Okay maybe its just me.

I didn't think so.

Grace,Grace, and more Grace.....and Peace.

29 and Counting

2007-08-06T20:50:00.000-07:00

I have been 29 for just over 13 hours now and already am feeling a bit wiser for the wear. Okay, not really wiser so much as, well...(searching for the perfect word that carries wit and a profundity beyond my years; coming up short.) I will just say this: so far, I love 29!

There was nothing intensely special about today. My sweet husband is away on business and though I know he would rather be here, I am so grateful to be married to a man who considers being away from home for a week at a time, during his wife's birthday, a bummer rather than an excuse to pretend to forget her birthday. SO GRATEFUL. That being the case, we are choosing to celebrate later int he week, which made for average birthday-day. Rachel and I played, we went to the gym-she loves the gym. Another thing I am SO GRATEFUL for-my kid loves when I go to the gym because she gets to play with a group of new kids on an indoor slide that doesn't get "too hut!" Which, for those of you who are not fluent in two-year-old, means too hot.

So, as birthdays-at least in my life-call for at least a moment of introspection and reflection, if not a few moments I began to think about today....about my birthday. I am 29. One year away from 30. It looks nothing like I thought it would when I was 16 and was sure I would be filing for Social Security and in line for a hip replacement by the time I reached the ancient age of 30....In fact it looks so much better than I could ever dreamed it would. I wouldn't want to imagine it any other way. I spent most of today full to the top with this joyful, exuberant, tears lingering threatening to bubble over the rims of my eyeballs at any given moment kind of gratitude. Which in and of itself is something I am again, grateful for.

As I mentioned before, today was a normal day. No special celebration of me, my life's work, all the people I have touched, yada,yada,yada. And yet I felt this overwhelming sense of thankfulness all day. Certainly due in large part to the great time I had alone with the Romancer Of My Soul this morning, and the sweet phone calls I received from friends and family all day long, all wishing me a "Happy Birthday." But when I began to take those moments to reflect, I realized that a few short (and somehow very long at the same time) years ago, spending a day like today, doing what I did today on my birthday, would have left me sad, lonely, rejected, depressed. Totally self absorbed with my miserable "un-loved" self.

"Ding!"

That is the light bulb that just went off for me- I thought I would share the moment with all of you.

I am growing up. Whoa.

Somehow, that process doesn't look like I thought it would either. I never thought something so hard, could be simultaneously so GOOD. It is often hard. hard to choose to give life to things that are so opposite my selfish nature...but it is so incredibly GOOD. And I fear the poor horse has passed on because I have beaten it so much, but I will again, no longer afraid of being redundant say , "I am SO GRATEFUL."

Thus with little fanfare, in homage to the 29 years of life I have lived, I have listed 29 things I am grateful for today. Though I could go on, this has,I fear, already gone on long enough.

Please enjoy and feel free to sound off and share with me what you are grateful for....I would be very, thankful.

1. All of the well wishes I received today. I smiled all day long for feeling the love.
2. The beautiful view from my patio
3. The way God so intentionally pursues me every day, whether I pursue Him that day or not.
4. My husband's sense of humor. He makes sure I don't take myself or live too seriously.
5. My daughter's laugh. It is super contagious.
6. Google
7. My job. I get paid to mentor young college women and model for them how to mentor younger women...and we get to dance while we do it, all in the name of Jesus. So cool.
8. David Lorenz Winston's "Solitude." It speaks to me something new every season of life.
9. My beautiful friends. Those who would walk me through the darkest night and for whom I would do the same. You are each a precious gift.
10. Elmo & the Sesame Street Gang. It is SO HARD to find good kids characters these days that are truly meant for kids, so a huge "Thank You" to Sesame Street.
11. The way Rachel strokes my arm, or back or face when she wants me to know she is "cuddling" me. She is such a little love bug.
12. My Mother's advice and support, solicited and otherwise. It is priceless.
13. My Mom II's model of unconditional love.
14. Having a Mother-In-Love who I love like a mother and who loves me like a daughter, even though she has two of her own.
15. Half.com-I can buy twice the amount of good books. If you haven't checked it out, you should.
16. Exercise- And the ability to do so on my own. I saw a man at the gym today who used to be an Orthopedic surgeon. He is is a wheel chair now due to a stroke.
17. World Vision, Greater European Missions and other organizations of the like. Though we support them through prayer and finances, these people are out there doing the work.
18. Andi Boo Goetz. Just for being Boo.
19. My sisters. It is amazing that we all came from one family. You are each so precious to me.
20. The man I married. He is my hero. He literally blew my "Dream Guy" out of the water. The fact that Micah chose me is all the proof I need that God wants what is best for me. Micah is SOOOO my McDreamy.
21. Red Cross workers, First Responders, & Electrical crews. Live in a hurricane area through two major storms and you will understand how awesome these volunteers/workers are.
22. Blogging. It is an incredible creative outlet for me in this season and so much less time consuming than scrap booking.
23. David, Krystin, & Titus Risch...D & K, cause they rock and they trust us enough to be God Parents to their only son (at this point-here is hoping they have another). Titus, cause, well, he is my God Son!
24. My dad. For showing us how to make the most out of single moments.
25. The Peterson clan. So many reasons to be grateful...Such a gift to be grafted into this family.
26. The ability to read and write and the love I have for doing those two things- "Thanks" to Mrs. P. my 6th grade teacher.
27. Jack Bauer
28. My precious daughter. No one else could be used quite as well by God to transform me, heart, soul, & mind. Thank you.
29. God. Cause He loves me. No matter what, and all the reasons above are evidence of that truth.

Sense And Sensibility

2007-07-27T23:02:00.000-07:00

"Sensibility refers to an acute perception of or responsiveness toward something, such as the emotions of another."
At the impressionable age of 15 I came across Jane Austin's beautiful literary portrait which painted a vivid image for me of what I was and more clearly what I was not. Though I longed to find pieces of "Sense" somewhere in my being it was quite clear in my heart of hearts I was "Sensibility" through and through.
For some reason it often seems so much easier to hold on to what we are not, rather than what we are. Still, how True it is that what we are, who we are, is so much more important.
I suppose blame could lie with the old adage that the grass on the other side is always a shade greener, but I wanted so badly to become what I was not-what I am not.
With time and experience I have come to appreciate who I truly am; who God has made me to be. I feel things deeply. I am sensitive and passionate. I love words, and romance and music, and I struggle with the idea of trying to fit all of that emotion into a conventional female box or limit my expression to what might be expected of me.
However time and experience are, again, gracious teachers. Transformation is Spiritual;a process that will not be rushed and God loves me so much that He has blessed me with mentors to light the path towards maturity that requires all of that beautiful emotion to come under the control of the Holy Spirit. What a truly amazing thing. I am so grateful. To God, for His constant Grace, Love and Patience. To you, for sharing in my journey. Please, do share. I want to know all about your Sensibilities too. Transformation through relationship...makes Sense.

What I Might Have Missed

2007-07-27T21:12:00.000-07:00

June 15, 2007
In our home it is customary to pray before we sit down to eat, offering thanks to the One who is the Provider of all things and seeking His blessing upon our meal. We have always done this, and of course have included our daughter in the blessing all her short-lived little years. (Almost 2 now, for those who are keeping count.) She takes such delight in sitting down to "pway" before our meals and it fills my heart with joy unspeakable to watch her often initiate grace before our meals. She will reach out her little hands and instruct us, "Mommy, Daddy, Pway!"
In the last two weeks we have been working on developing a new schedule to structure our days. After spending time with a blessed friend of mine who has three darling little ones and peace abundant flowing through every toddler filled moment of her days, I was sincerely challenged to seek out that same peace. Why didn't I have it? I know The Source of peace, and I long to move and breathe and have my being in His peace, and yet I, most often do not abide there.
During our oh-too-short of a visit, my dear friend offered some truly life changing input, and life giving encouragement along with some resources for finding healthy ways to establish structure, routine and boundaries for my little explorer. I have heeded much of her advice thus far and am delighted with the results. I am at peace, she is at peace, my husband recognizes this and it brings him joy...we are all living there now...in the place of peace and rest...and joy overflowing.
What amazes me most is how my choices truly do affect the tone of our home. Our home has a different air about it than it did two weeks ago. How powerful that place of rest is for me and my family when I choose to live from there. Not because I am so great and am doing something great but because I am (finally) listening to the Holy Spirit who is moving me into a place where my heart actually longs for this so much that I choose it daily. He is whispering in my ear, THIS IS WHO YOU ARE. YOU ARE A MOTHER.
Unfortunately, based on my own experience of living there myself would agree with anyone who made the observation that it is a bit more culturally acceptable these days to assert my rights as a woman than to lay them down. My RIGHT to mommy time, my RIGHT to self-fulfillment, my RIGHT to whatever I want. But the peace has come from laying down my rights, not asserting them. And I would plead with any mother who believes this it is not true. Having been there myself, believed that and fought for it with my own energy, there is so much more joy in laying them down than I ever found fighting to assert them. Which honestly was a bit confusing initially.
Though I would not have said so then, in the recesses of my heart I believed that Rachel was an intrusion on my time. I wanted to go to back to school, I wanted a more self-important feeling career, I wanted an hour and a half a day to just study my Bible or read, or sleep, or whatever I wanted. I wanted to become a mommy when I felt like it. The number of "I" thoughts running through my head was a little higher than I would have like to admit.
So, post revelation, my choices have been different.
Along with a new schedule for Rachel comes a new schedule for mommy. One that requires more discipline of me because it is built around what works best for Rachel, not simply what works best for mommy. And I know many who would say that she came into our lives, not the other way around, and my "schedule" should be based on what I need to do in a day. But the conclusion that line of thinking led me to was absent of one very important realization...What I need to do in a day-the most important thing I do, is love that little girl all day long. Love her in the best way I can. Which means being the grown-up in the equation and changing my schedule, disciplining myself to get up earlier so that she gets more of me, not changing her bed time to accommodate her mommy-the-night-owl. It means making sure we play together in her world...not just in mine. It means making her a practical priority, not merely a rhetorical one.
And guess what...I am having the time of my life. We have a blast! I have found out could live on her laugh! She is so generous and such a wonderful care taker. She is sincerely concerned about people in a way that is so preciously innocent...and today, when we were sitting down for lunch, she grabbed my hands and insisted, "Pway, Mommy." So I clasped her little hand in mine and listed to her pway..."Jesus, tank ou eat. Papa,Nana, Chiss(uncle Chris) pway, Jesus, Amen!"
I just wept a bit. For the joy of it. Knowing that her little heart loves Jesus & believes He hears her "pwayers." I wept because a couple of weeks ago I might have missed that. I might have said, "You go ahead honey, mommy is busy doing_______." And I didn't. I got to be a part of her little world. I get to every day, and that makes me more important than I ever could be.

Truth Is Better Than Fiction

2007-07-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

Feb.15,2007

When I was a little girl I loved "Gone With the Wind." Scarlett was so sassy and beautiful and fragile all at the same time. And Rhett so dashing and brazen and politically incorrect. Okay, I didn't come up with those descriptions at the ripe age of 12, but I DID love that movie. Still do. There is just something mysterious and remarkable about the Old South. Full of warmth,family, and the nostalgia of days gone by the film leaves me wanting to pluck a fresh Georgia peach straight from the tree, pop a squat (a relativly southern term) under a beautiful towering magnolia tree and watch the sunset behind a river full of catfish. I would sit there, enjoying my peach and the hum of the secadas creeping out at dusk until all I could see was the flittering fireflies and the twinkle-twinkle of thousands of stars. So many more stars than I could possibly find staring at the sky of a big city....I never knew so many stars existed.....
At 12 I was grateful to be left to believe in the fairytale South. Where the women were quietly strong and the men were their strapping proud heroes.
At 26 I moved there.
What you may not realize is that Pensacola is actually a southern city. The beaches are gorgeous and may be beautiful enough to leave the illusion of a prime vacation spot for the rich and famous. Full of white sand and warm water I have enjoyed them thouroughly. However, P'cola (as we have come to know it's shortened name) is also know as L.A.-Lower Alabama. Our home is ten miles from the Alabama line and in our neighborhood for every one Gator or Seminole fan there are two fanatics screaming,"ROLL TIDE!" and flying proudly from their front porch and their car are Crimson and White flags with the signature "A" on them.
Don't get me wrong. I love so many things about this city. I LOVE the people-we have made precious life-long friendships in the two years we have lived here. I LOVE my church. I LOVE the kids I have worked with with all of my heart. But much to my disillusionment I have come to discover that I don't love the South.
When we started to meet people here conversations would naturally head down this path..."Where are y'all from?" to which we proudly reply," California."
Then comes the list of common misconception questions...
"Do y'all surf?"
"Have y'all ever been to the O.C.?"
"Is Laguna Beach really a place?"
"Have y'all ever met any celebrities?"
Again, I love my friends and have truly enjoyed most of the time I have lived here. But I miss so many things about California. The political climate, the easy accessibility of both the mountains and the beach, the availablity of culture (sometimes too much), the mysterious artists that linger in big cities bartending until they are 40. Okay I don't neccessarily miss that part. But I do miss my family and friends and that sense of comfort that comes with living in a place that is familiar. Funny, growing up I swore I would never go back. But now as we embark (Tomorrow) on our cross country trek back to our home town, I am so excited my toes curl at the thought of being in the same city as my parents, sisters, best friend, and in-laws (I adore my in-laws).
I will miss this place. Actually, I will miss these people.
But I will not miss the South. Because it isn't what I thought it was (that really should not be a surprise, since nothing ever is) And for all of my efforts I am not a Southern woman. I am way too loud and opinionated. It took living here for me to realize that I am a proud bonified city-girl...who might even vote Democrat once or twice in my life. And it took this season of our journey to begin to learn how to be a wife, and a mommy and find out that doing JUST that is okay...even if I live in a big city in California, where most of the mommies work and most kids go to daycare. Thankfully I am now aware just how true it is that I am NOT defined by where I live, but rather I am a collection of wonderful life experiences from a lot of different places bundled up into one person who doesn't fit in any boxes and doesn't tow the party line on either side.
"Gone With the Wind" is still one of my favorite movies. Scarlett is still one of my favorite women charactures. But my inner child must finally admit that life isn't like the movies. As much as I want it to be, it just isn't so. And that is okay....cause,"Truth is better than fiction."

Why everyone should have a copy card

2007-07-27T21:07:00.001-07:00

Jan.23, 2007

My good friend Krystin just gave birth. So, at the moment I am sure she is pondering things like sleep/wake/eat cycles... and milk let-down sensation. (Sorry to be graphic, but this is most likely the truth.) The newness of motherhood can be emotionally stimulating in a way that is nearly impossible to understand until you experience it yourself. None-the-less, it is most certainly draining on the mind & body....Still, knowing her, she will very soon be insisting upon turning her thoughts toward intilectually stimulating material, (even if it is only for five minutes) such as this excerpt that she posted on her blog a while ago. Simply because we love stuff like this. It was so poignant that I chose to use my handy-dandy copy car and post it on my site. Everyone, by the way, should have a copy card or two set aside for very important occasions when one must copy someone else's brilliance. Original, not exactly. Who do you think I am Hertz?
No, I will not apologize for making that lame joke...get over it. Now, on with the great quotation...

Here are the things I didn't like about the churches I went to. First: I felt like people were trying to sell me on Jesus. I was a salesman for a while, and we were taught that you are supposed to point out all the benefits of a product when you are selling it. That is how I felt about some of the preachers I heard speak. They were always pointing out the benefits of Christian faith. That rubbed me wrong. It's not that there aren't benefits, there are, but did they have to talk about spirituality like it's a vacuum cleaner. I never felt like Jesus was a product. I wanted Him to be a person. Not only that, but they were always saying how life-changing some conference was going to be. Life-changing? What does that mean? It sounded very suspicious. I wish they would just tell it to me straight rather than trying to sell me on everything. I felt like I got bombarded with commercials all week and then went to church and got even more.
And yet another thing about the churches I went to: They seemed to be parrots for the Republican Party. Do we have to tow the party line on every single issue? Are the Republicans that perfect? I just felt like, in order to be a part of the family, I had to think George W. Bush was Jesus. And I didn't. I didn't think that Jesus really agreed with a lot of the policies of the Republican Party or for that matter the Democratic Party. I felt like Jesus was a religious figure, not a political figure. I heard my pastor say once, when there were only a few of us standing around, that he hated Bill Clinton. I can understand not liking Clinton's policies, but I want my spirituality to rid me of hate, not give me reason for it. I couldn't deal with that. That is one of of the main reasons I walked away. I felt like, by going to this particular church, I was a pawn for the Republicans. Meanwhile, the Republican's did not give a crap about the causes of Christ.
Only one more thing that bugged me, then I will shut up about it. War metaphor. The churches I attended would embrace war metaphor. They would talk about how we are in a battle, and I agreed with them, only they wouldn't clarify that we were battling poverty and hate and injustice and pride and the powers of darkness. They left us thinking that our war was against liberals and homosexuals. Their teachings would have me believe I was the good person in the world and the liberals were the bad people in the world. Jesus taught that we are all bad and He is good, and He wants to rescue us because there is a war going on and we are all hostages in that war. The truth is we are supposed to love the hippies, the liberals, and even the Democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of Jesus.
~ Taken from Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (p.131-132)

Next Please

2007-07-27T21:05:00.000-07:00

Jan. 22,2007

So today I had a doctor's appointment. Not a big deal. Everyone has them. This however was a special event becasue it was the very first time I tried to go to the doctor without getting a babysitter. Stupid, you may call me, even idiotic. Still, I prefer to just think of myself as frugal. You see like everyone else, I pay my co-pay, but seeing as we live 3,000 mile from any relatives, it is often difficult to find someone to watch my child (for free) for a couple of hours in the middle of the day so that I can go get my lymph nodes examined or my blood drawn. So while I have no complaint about paying my co-pay, I do get a bit frustrated at the extra $15-$20 bucks I would pay the sitter. Is my daughter worth it? Absolutley. Do I want to pay it? Not Really. Do I have a right to complain considering the fact we CHOSE to bring a child into the world and now bear that responibility? Probably not. Still, when you are on a budget, $20 bucks is $20 bucks. Besides, I thought, our child is a very well behaved 17 month old. As long as I have snacks and my husband can come to help while I am actually in with the doctor, we will be just fine.
Think again.
All ran smoothly until I was finished with the doctor. But, since she ordered blood work I had to wait an extra 30 minutes and my husband (who took his lunch hour to come help-bless his heart) had to get back to work, it was just the two of us. Which would have been fine, if it wasn't lunchtime and 30 minutes past nap time and I wasn't out of snacks.
So, she cried. She whined. Eventually, she wailed. And I held her and tried to comfort her. I sang and rocked. I hoped & prayed that she would calm down so that I wouldn't have to just leave and come back later for the blood work. And the woman sitting in the waiting room with us rolled her eyes at me....as if I ought to have some magic trick up my sleeve to make her stop crying when she is exhausted and hungry. I wanted to scream! Or better yet, to walk over to her and in a calm, hushed, but intensly accusing voice say, " I am so sorry that my child is disturbing you, especially since it is quite obvious that you have never had to deal with a tired toddler."
I think I grew up a little bit in that moment simply by not re-acting on impulse. Seriously, though, it is not as if we parents want our kids to freak out in fits when in public, and yet, sometimes kids do. For all the training and discipline and training we pour into our daughter. For all of the effort to teach her to respect others...she will still have her moments.
So, please, by all means, don't pity the mother whose child might be having a moment that you may have to witness, but please don't scorn her either. She is most likely doing her best. Compassion. Compassion is good. Understanding, even better.

To Blog Or Not To Blog...

2007-07-27T20:39:00.000-07:00

Jan.20,2007

...that is the question that I have, for many, many months pondered....There are so many out there that are witty and relevant and well-written. What might I possibly add that has not already been displayed for the whole world to read? I mean I want to have a voice that matters, right? Can you even do that if 2 million people have already said what you are saying?(Insert thought provoking comment about the inherent irony in my internal & therefore little known desire to become a person more satisfied with not HAVING to speak up at any given moment for what I believe/think/feel, etc.) Oprah says....we all just want to be affirmed. And I am sure Dr. Phil would agree...so maybe THAT is why I have finally decided that I would rather give life to my own thoughts than sitting in front of my computer jumping from blog to blog reading other peoples' thoughts on religion/politics/love/life/parenting/.....only to wind up saying to myself (yes, of course I say it out loud), "That is exactly what I was thinking!" Maybe all I want is to be affirmed...Maybe Oprah and Phil are right, and it is only my insecurities that are the driving force behind my desire to send my thoughts out into the oblivion that is the world wide web, and hope to receive in return your love and affirmation....Maybe...but I seriously doubt it. Honestly, I think I am just bored. (And I have it put off this wish to blog for a while because I really don't type all that well.) SO... putting all known and unknown insecurities aside, I take this very baby step out into the blogosphere, or whatever the heck it is called. (Cause now, I will have write more just to appease myself.) Hopefully I will have something of value to add...and hopefully it gets much better than this.