Category Archives: Grace

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31 Days of Advent in October :: Day 1

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31 Days :: Day 31

31 Days :: Day 30

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31 Days :: Day 21

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31 Days :: Day 4

31 Days :: Day 3

31 Days :: Day 2

Welcome to 31 Days of Advent in October :: Day 1! (Yes, technically this is posting on September 30th, but since it’s late in the evening, we’re all just going to pretend it’s October 1st.

As I shared last week, I decided to join the 31 Days of Writing party at The Nester’s this year. It seemed fitting given that not having a blog to wear to the party last year is one of the things that inspired me to actually start my blog this year.  Practically speaking, this post will be an index page for all of my 31 Days posts, sort of a one stop shop.  So if you don’t want to receive an update every single time I post this month (that could be annoying), you could simply bookmark this page and come back when it’s convenient for you to read and then temporarily unfollow my posts.  I promise, I won’t take it personally if you choose to unfollow me this month.   But do please come back in November.  If you choose to continue receiving email updates throughout the month of October, well all I can say is THANK YOU!   You are the most amazing follower EVER!  Now onto the first post…

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Five pages into Ann Voskamp’s latest book, The Greatest Gift: Unwrapping the Full Love Story of Christmas, I was inspired to spend these 31 days of October reading selections from the book and writing out my own Advent thoughts and responses. Maybe a little heart-tuning to Advent in October will bear fruit of gratitude in December when everyone else’s attention also turns to the Babe in a manger.

As the book opens on page vii, with “Your Invitation to Unwrap the Gift”, I read words that have a familiar echo in my own heart in recent months: “…without the genealogy of Christ, the limbs of His past, the branches of His family, the love story of His heart that has been coming for you since before the beginning…” (page viii) and, “This, this is the love story that’s been coming for you since the beginning,” (page x).

The Advent season, the waiting, the coming of Christ, didn’t begin with the Immaculate Conception. It didn’t begin when an angel spoke to a young girl that she would be the earthly mother of Grace wrapped in humanity. It began before a promise to David, before a covenant with Abraham, and even before the promise and comfort in the middle of a curse in Eden.

Advent began before time when Love, in community with itself, decided to create an object for its affection. Christ, Emmanuel, God with Us was never Plan B. He was not Father God’s response to our poor decisions. He is The Plan and He always has been. Pure, unconditional Love wrapped in flesh, inserted into time and space for you and me.

“He’s been coming for us since before the beginning.”

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More Momma Grace

In my last post I shared a little bit of my struggle in this new season. However, if you read that carefully and saw that I mentioned that one of my daughters is in college then you know this season isn’t really new. In fact, I’ve been in it for probably five years, I JUST DID NOT KNOW IT! My oldest daughter, Liv Loo, knew it, but I was completely oblivious to the fact that the game had changed and I was still trying to play it the way I always had. In other words, lay down the law and expect to be obeyed at all costs, OR ELSE!

What is new however, is that I am in a reflective, nostalgic, evaluate-my-entire life place, and well, all I can say is that I am grateful for God’s unconditional love and that His mercies are new EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. for me and every member of my family.

Over the last several years though, I did miss a lot of opportunities for relationship, particularly with my oldest daughter, who has been the one to lead the way through all of these parenting transitions. I spent an awful lot of time telling her what to do, what to think, how to dress, who to hang out with, and just generally communicating all of my thoughts and expectations, but not really letting her try on some of her own.

But as transformation has occurred, albeit slowly, I’ve tried to give her the room she needs to live life as an adult, which has honestly felt like driving on the left-hand side of the road…completely unnatural. In the grand scheme of things I don’t feel like I’ve been very good at it and it only feels like I’ve been doing it for five minutes, but I’ve decided I can’t change the past I can just trust God in every moment I move forward through and trust Him to redeem the ones I’ve left behind in the wake of fear and control.

Left side driving

And in His love and mercy He gives me beautiful glimpses, Momma grace moments) into how only He can redeem all and restore all.  A couple of weeks ago Liv Loo was sharing a conversation with me that occurred between her and a friend who is also her age, almost 20 years old – an adult (I wrote that to keep reminding ME that she is an adult…it’s really hard). Without going into too many details, they were discussing an encounter her friend had with his parents and his disappointment in their response to something he wanted to try. The long and the short of it is he felt like they were treating him like a 14-year-old instead of a man.

And then some of the most precious words I’ve ever heard (and she didn’t even know it) came out of her mouth, “They don’t treat him like you treat me, Momma. You listen to me, ask questions, make suggestions and then let me make my own decisions. They just tell him what to do and what to think.” All I could do was thank God for letting me see that He is so much bigger than my mistakes.

He truly makes all things new, even when I make a mess.

I receive that grace.  This is abundant life.  This is walking through life with my tiara on straight, not because of anything I’ve done, but because of Who He is.

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Taylor Swift & Momma Grace

It’s a little hard to segue from an unintentional series on how I am only now starting to know myself and how I really don’t know what to do with my emotions, but here’s giving it a shot.

I am in a bit of a nostalgic season. Since school is back in session (O summer where have you gone????) and I now have one in college, a high school junior and an eighth grader, it has put me in a reflective frame of mind. All of this reflection has made it more and more apparent that my role as a mom is changing, it’s a new season, and it is hard for me.

I don’t mean it’s hard in the something-is-terribly-wrong-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do way. It’s hard because I don’t do change well, in fact I don’t like it.  I REALLY liked it when my kids were little. Even though I was completely clueless back then, I at least felt like it was a good Momma day if everyone got to and from school, ate three times, wore clean clothes, bathed, brushed their teeth at least once, and squealed with laughter while rubbing their bare feet on Popey’s bald head at bed time. In other words, I was pretty much in charge of everything in their lives, including their fun.

The hard part for me is transitioning from being the hygiene-police to whatever it is I am supposed to do now. My inner Momma wants to daily insert myself in every area of their lives. It’s hard to watch them struggle and find their own way, whether it’s in relationships or work or school or just trying to understand who they are and where they fit in the world. And let’s face it, it’s really, really hard to not tell them how to drive. Every time one of them backs out of the driveway I have to take a deep breath and push back tears. It’s not that I want things to always stay the same, I just miss my little girls.

We are in that season when, even though they all technically live here and put our address down as their legal residence, for the most part they are never home. They are either at school, at work, at church or hunkered down in their respective rooms doing homework. Or hunkered down in their respective rooms avoiding homework. I have learned that if I park myself in my bedroom at the top of stairs (I work on my bed a lot and have a direct line of sight to whoever is coming up or going down) or on the corner of our big red couch then I can catch a momentary glimpse of them as they are coming or going or grabbing a snack. It’s not much, but I will take what I can get. I miss my girls.

So last week one of our daughters had the chance to go see Taylor Swift’s concert in Greensboro, NC. She had the tickets for months, but the excitement really mounted around here as her iPhone counted down the final days to the concert. The afternoon she left with a friend and her parents to go to the concert I walked with her out to their car. When she got into the car I just asked if she would text when they got there and then again when they were on the way home. What I wanted to ask was that she text me every five minutes so that I would know she was alive, but I restrained myself. You may think I am joking, but God really has done a work in me.

English: Taylor Swift performing live on Speak...

As they pulled out of the cul-de-sac I felt a twinge of regret that I had not bought a ticket and was going with them. But at that exact moment I realized I could really use a nap and there was no way I would have made it through a concert and the drive home (much to my family’s dismay I am often in my PJ’s by 7:00 pm and I am usually in the bed by 8:30 every night reading or watching TV).

A couple of hours later I got a text that they were there. I breathed deep and grateful relief. Then I got a text and photo of my daughter and her friend in their seats. Then I got a text about the first act. And then I got a text about the next act. And another text and another text. And then more texts when they got in the car to come home, written in ALL CAPS TO COMMUNICATE HER JOY AND EXCITEMENT.

My 16-year old daughter was having the best night of her life and she texted me through the whole thing. I receive that grace.

In this season of the struggles, the miscommunications, the misunderstandings, the stretching of wings, the venturing out, the trying on of new ideas and the shirking of old ones, the wrestlings of faith, and the pushing against the goad, I will gladly receive what they choose to share. I will celebrate who they are becoming. I will wait for them to reach out and embrace them when they do. I will be grateful that in all the moving forward and out they still reach back sometimes just to touch home base, just to share familiar love even just for a moment.

I receive that grace.

By the way, in all of the concert-texting-excitement my daughter made an executive decision to make me her manager. I am now tasked with making her famous and planning her world tour. I am so overwhelmed with emotion I can’t decide whether to eat ice cream, make sandwiches or send her an ugly, imaginary plant. Stay tuned for all of her concert dates and locations. But first I think I need that nap.

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And Then There’s The Time I…

So this post is strictly for amusement purposes and if it makes you feel better about any of the odd or crazy things you’ve ever done in an overwhelming flood of emotion, well that’s just a bonus.

When I wrote the post last week about not being able to verbalize what I am feeling, it triggered a series very funny memories about some of the things that I have done over the years when emotions swelled and simply were not going to be ignored. Apparently, they had a mind of their own and when I couldn’t articulate them, they created their own avenue of escape and made me look like an idiot on more than one occasion.

Please know that some of these things are only funny in hindsight and I’ve altered them slightly to protect the unsuspecting witnesses to (or should I say victims of) my lack of personal awareness. But my responses are all completely accurate and true, in embarrassing detail.

Just a few years ago a very close friend called from the Emergency Room to say that paramedics had brought her dear grandfather to the hospital and he was unresponsive. I met her there and sat with her in a family consultation room where an ER doctor had let her know that her grandfather had died. I sat there as she wept along with our sweet pastor and his wife who had joined us. Thankfully the Lord sent people who did know what to say because all I could do was cry with her and keep passing her Kleenex.

So later that afternoon after leaving the hospital and getting her home, I was feeling so sad for her and feeling like I had handled the whole Emergency Room situation so inadequately, that I felt COMPELLED to do something (mental note: when I feel compelled to do something I should probably not do anything). All I could think was that in the next day or so all of her family, who are spread far and wide across the country, were going to be arriving in town and she was going to need to feed them (she’s wonderful about feeding people). So in a flash of brilliance (sarcasm), I ran to Costco and bought one of their trays of deli sandwiches that will feed tons of people, or at least 10 or 12.  I then made a stop at a convenience store and bought her a Coke Zero.  Who doesn’t need a little sugar-free caffeine to help get over a crying headache, right?

I arrived on her front porch a while later, she opened the front door, still teary-eyed, and I so wanted to say EXACTLY the right thing, but all that came out was, “I don’t do grief well, but I brought you some sandwiches.” That’s the best I can do. I really don’t remember what happened next, but we have laughed about it TONS since then (in fact we laughed about it last week) and every single time I pass the deli sandwiches at Costco I smile.

English: Costco in Moncton, New Brunswick

Then there was the first time I ever had to fire an employee. Let me say, if you’ve never had to do this, count yourself fortunate. Even if someone needs to be fired, it just doesn’t feel good being the person who actually has to do it (unless of course your issues are different than mine and you enjoy such things). I found this situation particularly stressful because the employee in question had in the past proven to be volatile and I just never knew what version of her was going to show up each day. It sort of depended on what combination anti-psychotics she was taking that week. Which meant that when my office door closed in order to give us privacy, I felt trapped and very vulnerable.

I wish I could say I communicated to her in a clear and concise manner in all of my best professionalism.  However, I have a nervous laugh that decided to make an appearance that day, and IT WOULD NOT STOP. It was awful. I nervous-laughed through the entire thing.  Just picture Anthony Bouvier on Designing Women – if you don’t know what I’m talking about, well that’s a whole other post.

I should have been the one fired that day. Sadly this seems to be a pattern for me when I feel vulnerable and unsure of someone’s reaction to me when I have to be the bearer of bad news.  It happens way more than I would like. Have I mentioned I don’t like conflict?

So this last one is just as ridiculous. Years ago when I was in college I had a friend who was a police officer and one night they called to tell me they had been involved in a shooting and the suspect had died. It wasn’t a long conversation, but I put myself in their shoes and even though my friend was totally justified in what happened it was still a gut-wrenching thing to walk through. Meting out life and death regardless of the circumstances is rough on the human frame. Once again, I had all these emotions that were desperate to escape and convey themselves to my friend.

As usual I was at a total loss as to what to say, so do you know what I did? The only logical thing a girl could do in that situation, I called a local florist and sent my friend a plant. My police officer friend shot and killed a criminal and I sent them a plant. Not just any plant, a pretty ugly plant. This was long before the internet and I was no plant expert, so when I described the situation to the florist (imagine what must have gone through her mind) she suggested a kalanchoe. In all fairness to her officer-involved-shooting-the-suspect-is-dead plant suggestion, I must have told her I was in college and had a very limited plant-sending budget.

What’s worse is that after I ordered it I kept calling it a ‘kakamelia.’ If you just Googled that then you know there is no such thing.  There are just so many layers to my humiliation.

Like I said, this was strictly for your entertainment pleasure.  And if you know me in real life, then right now you are wondering why I didn’t turn this into a whole series because there are MANY more of these events I could share.

Again, life’s too hard to walk alone and it’s definitely too hard to walk without a good laugh along the way. Even though I usually don’t have the exact right words for my friends in moments of crisis, I keep showing up and love them the best way I can. Except of course for the whole firing episode…for that I have absolutely no explanation.  Sometimes I think my role on the stage of life is to provide the comic relief.

Proverbs 17:22 (NKJV) – “A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones.”

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In Which I Learned Something about Myself

And there is still another layer to the riveting drama in my Winn Dixie post earlier this week. When I sat down to write that post on Monday, I had been really thinking about it and talking to the Lord about it for the better part of a week. The revelation of God’s profound demonstration of love for me in the midst of my brokenness and how he moved heaven and earth to show me that love was very overwhelming for me. While I am prone to exaggeration for comedic effect, I do mean literally that He moved heaven and earth because Popey had just been transferred back to the US after being stationed in Egypt for a while.  In fact, his poor lips were still scarred from the middle eastern sun and he had white lines around his eyes from squinting.  And we met at exactly the right time.

Anyway, as I was processing all of the emotions that welled up over the extravagance of God’s love, I wanted to share that with the man God used so wonderfully. So when he came in from work on Friday evening (now remember, I had been thinking about this A LOT and even shed a few tears) here’s how that conversation went:

Me: “Thanks for chasing me down in the Winn Dixie all those years ago.”

Him: (smile) “You’re welcome.”

Me: (my heart was full and my mind went completely blank and nothing else came out)

I was so frustrated with myself for not being able to say what I was feeling and actually have a conversation about it. And then I couldn’t even say that I was frustrated with myself.  But then we had ice cream and it was all good.  We deal with a lot of things over ice cream.  Which by the way is a tradition that started back in my Winn Dixie days.  Popey would drive home from Fort Bragg just to see me on my 15 minute break at work and we would go to the little frozen yogurt shop around the corner from my store.

Soft ice cream

Fast forward to Saturday morning. One of my daughters shared with me a particularly painful situation she is walking through and how her heart is broken (Just know there is a future post I am developing about how hard it is to watch your kids struggle and that Jesus really is enough for them too). On the inside I had a lump in my throat and a heaviness in my own heart, but when I tried to say something my mind went completely blank, AGAIN. I felt terrible for her. She poured out her heart and I went blank.

But I realized that I actually feel this way often, when my emotions well up somehow words don’t flow from my mouth.

Later on Saturday I apologized to my daughter for not being able to articulate my feelings earlier and she said, “It’s ok Mom. I get it when you write. I cry every time I read something you write, whether it’s a blog post, a text or an email. That’s how you communicate your feelings. You write them.”

Study

And that’s what I learned about myself…I am pretty good at verbally communicating thoughts, ideas, information, even instructions, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t say what I am feeling.

So to everyone in my life who has ever shared something painful, joyful, heavy or crazy and I just stared back at you like I had no idea what you meant, I would like to offer my most sincere apologies. Please know that I heard your heart, I felt your pain, I shared your joy, I was grateful for your gift, but my emotions closed off my throat and I was literally at a loss for words. Next time I will write you a note. 🙂

And if you are asking yourself, “Does she know herself at all?”  The answer is definitely no, but I know the One who does and He’s revealing it to me every day.

Amen.

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Thanks for Chasing Me Down in the Winn Dixie

Have I ever told you the story of how I met my husband? For some reason this was on my mind a lot the last several days. As I mulled it over my perspective on the story changed a little bit and it became a bit sweeter to me.

Be warned, this is probably a post written more for me than anyone else, so feel free to abandon ship at any point you have something better to do…like fold laundry, make dinner or watch TV.

When I was 18 years old and just a few months from my high school graduation, I worked at a local Winn Dixie store. And when I say I worked there, well that’s sort of an understatement. I practically lived there because I begged for all the hours I could get. At one point in my retail grocery career, two store managers split my time between their individual stores so that I could work more than 40 hours per week and they wouldn’t have to pay me over time.  I know, I was dumb.

One of the perks to this job was that I had to wear a RIDICULOUS polyester, Carolina blue uniform (complete with elastic waist pants and matching top with two very utilitarian pockets to hold 20 pens at once) that had absolutely no shape. The best part was I had to wear white nursing shoes with my uniform so I looked extra professional.

winn-dixie crew 1986 pleasantfamilyshopping

(The EXACT uniforms store employees wore back then…only we weren’t this happy about it!  Thanks Pleasant Family Shopping)

I was very industrious for $3.65 per hour. I took everything very seriously. When my store manager told me to stay busy and never be caught standing around talking to my friends, well I figured he meant it. And I diligently made sure that when I wasn’t checking out customers as fast as lightening or counting down tills in the office that I picked up every piece of trash in sight, swept the floors, re-stocked unwanted grocery items, and above all else I never looked like I had nothing to do. Otherwise, he might send me home and I wouldn’t get all the hours I needed.

For reasons that are better left revealed in a MUCH longer format (say a book?), I was afraid of losing my job. And just to show you I know how crazy it sounds, let me say it clearly, I WAS AFRAID OF LOSING A JOB THAT PAID $3.65 AN HOUR (and made me wear possibly the worst uniform in history).

So, one Friday night, in walked the man I have now spent almost 27 years of my life with. And he came in specifically to meet me. He was home from Fort Bragg to spend a long Easter weekend with his family. And he had a sister, a sister who worked with me. And he came to Winn Dixie that night to meet me and to ask me out on a date.

He walked up to me at the video counter (we were a cutting edge store – we rented movies before Block Buster came along and we had the first scanners I had ever seen in a store) where I was checking in videos and he started to talk to me.  He was a real, adult, grown up man, and he was talking to me.  And I almost threw up. All I could think was, “Talk without moving your lips and keep moving your arms like you are working and maybe the manager won’t notice.” I kept trying to squeeze myself into the one square foot of space behind the cigarette/video counter that could not be seen from the one-way mirrored glass in the front office where the manager kept a close watch on all of us.

And my future husband kept talking. Sadly, I can’t remember a thing he said. I am sure he asked me about myself. I am sure he told me a lot about himself. But all I heard was the voice in the back of my head screaming , “You’re gonna get fired! And then how are you going to pay for college? And if you don’t go to college, what’s going to happen to you?”

At some point I realized there was a basket of groceries that needed to be put away so I grabbed the basket and took off around the store to put the items back. And Popey (his cleverly disguised nick name – you know how vigilant I am about protecting the innocent) took off after me. That man followed me up and down those aisles, watching me put away groceries, trying to have a conversation with me. The truth is, he didn’t just follow me, he chased me. He would not be ignored. He would not be left behind. He was going to ask me out if it took him all night.  I didn’t realize he jumped out of airplanes for a living, chasing me around a grocery store to ask me out probably didn’t seem all that intimidating.

I wish I could remember what he said. I wish I could say we had some sweet conversation, but all I know after all this time is that at some point in the pursuit he asked and I said yes, and a lot of story has unfolded since that night. We went on that first date. He left the Army a couple of months later. I went off to college a couple of months after that. We dated the whole time I was in college. We’ve had three kids, a home, long term health issues, a business/several jobs/multiple careers between us. We’ve shared a lot of joy and a lot of pain (and sometimes we’ve inflicted it  😦 ), but the point is we’ve done it together.

I’ve always looked back on that story and thought about how precious and sweet he was that night, but I beat myself up for being so broken that I almost missed the opportunity to share my life with him. But what hit me the last few days is that God loved me so much and knew how broken I was that He sent someone into my life who wasn’t going to give up on me, who wasn’t going to run away even when I ignored him, and who was willing to share life with me – the good, the bad and the ugly. He sent me someone willing to chase me down when necessary, just to love me.

God knew how lonely I was. He knew I didn’t know how to fix it. He knew that I didn’t even understand how much trouble I was really in by trying to live life in all my independence and self-sufficiency. God knew me and God sent Popey.

This life is too hard to live and figure out on our own.  Popey, thanks for chasing me down in the Winn Dixie that night (and every day since).  And Father, thanks for loving me through him.

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The Party’s Over & Some Lessons Learned (It’s a Two-fer!)

The Party's Over

The Party’s Over (Photo credit: BrianTuchalskiPhotography)

It’s a sure sign that the party is over and school is back in when by 8:30 a.m. on a Monday morning I have showered; dressed; brushed my teeth; put on make-up, or at least some of it; done two loads of laundry; completed carpool; gone to the grocery store (because I actually know what I am making for dinner); made my bed; unloaded the dishwasher; had two cups of coffee; have had two separate, full-length, adult conversations; and am sitting down to write my SECOND blog post of the day. This won’t post online for a few days, but just know I was thinking about you during my coffee buzz.

As a side note though, I just walked past a mirror and realized that while yes I did actually put on lipstick this morning before going to the grocery store, I didn’t do it well…as in it wasn’t all ‘in the lines’ so to speak. Apparently I either did it in my sleep or without my glasses on. So I apologize to anyone I may have frightened while in the Harris Teeter. I sort of looked like Heath Ledger’s The Joker in The Dark Knight…only I did shower. The other bothersome thing about this lipstick-gone-wrong episode is that at least one of my children saw me that way BEFORE I entered the store. I think I know what we will be talking about over dinner tonight…

So this post is sort of a continuation of what it means to me to have written 70 posts, although now it is officially 71. I was thinking about things I have learned. I no illusions that I am an expert a mere nine months into this blogging journey, these are just things that have blessed me and given me a sense of freedom.

  1. It’s ok not to know exactly what you are doing when you start. It only took me an hour to set up the blog (thank you Word Press!), but it took me another month to learn how to appropriately add links to my posts.  Adding photos took even longer. Yes I could have asked others who know more than I do (and I did some of that), but in the beginning it took all the courage I could muster just to press Publish for each post. So for a while I just focused on getting words down and clicking Publish. And that was enough.  There are still a lot of techie things I would like to learn, so I am taking them one thing at a time.  The most important thing for me is actually the content, even though that may not always be apparent, so that’s where I tend to put my energy.
  2. You don’t have to do it exactly like everyone else. There are many folks out there who willingly share their expertise on how to blog and I enjoy reading their ideas. Sometimes I try on their ideas and if they fit I use them.  If they are just not me then I drop them like a hot potato. If you follow all the how-to’s and formula approaches to blogging (and there are many out there) then your work will look just like theirs. That’s fine if that’s your goal, but I am not sure it’s mine. I realize that certain ‘rules’ apply in terms of achieving social media success, but for me this is more art and less science; it’s more about expression than displaying work product.  I know that’s a little Pollyanna-ish, but that’s where I am.
  3. It’s perfectly ok to try out different writing styles and voices. Sometimes it takes a while to figure out what you are comfortable with and what you like. I have enjoyed this trying-on process. There’s freedom in knowing every piece doesn’t have to ‘sound’ the same. For instance, I am the same woman who has written about tube tops and Speedos and Bible study and theology and deer in her back yard. I have at times worried it may come off as schizophrenic, but what can I say? I am some amalgamation of Steel Magnolias meets C. S. Lewis meets Stevie Nicks meets Kay Arthur meets Lord of the Rings meets The Middle (Is that the opposite of not being June Cleaver?). It’s bound to come out in my writing.
  4. Every time you sit down to write you don’t have to produce something for public consumption. It’s ok to play with words. It’s ok just to write.  It’s ok to have fun and enjoy writing for its own sake.
  5. Sometimes you just have to let it go. The truth is my ‘need’ to manage your opinion of me makes me want to edit everything to perfection. But my desire for connection on a level deeper than grammar and punctuation makes me click Publish many times before I feel like I am finished. Communicating the message, expressing my heart, and connecting with the reader is a higher goal than someone thinking I am a Grammar & Spelling Ninja. Personally, I think perfection and connection are mutually exclusive. It’s virtually impossible to do both and ever actually get your ideas out there for discussion – at least in the blogging format.
  6. It’s ok to work on more than one thing at a time. Initially I felt like I had to finish everything I started before I started something else. If I set one thing aside to work on a new idea, it felt like adultery. But then I heard someone mention that they have over 200 unfinished posts in their Drafts folder that they periodically pull out, polish and publish.  It was a light bulb moment.  Now I too have a Drafts folder. She is my friend. She holds ideas for me that aren’t quite complete or didn’t develop the way I wanted. And at the right time when the idea starts to gel, I can go back and finish it or totally rework it. I don’t know if I will ever use everything in the Drafts folder, but I like keeping my options open.
  7. It’s ok if people don’t like your work. Again, I am sure others might not struggle with this, but it’s hard when someone calls your baby ugly. But it really is perfectly acceptable for other to disagree with you, or not understand your point or even get angry with you. While I hate conflict and I don’t like being perceived as rude, sometimes we need to be provoked by another persons thoughts or opinions in order to cause us to look at ideas with fresh eyes and a new perspective. If you can express yourself without trying to simply convince people to like your work, it is very possible you can help them see from a different perspective. You can help shape your culture within your sphere of influence. I am sure even now water sport enthusiasts everywhere are rethinking their position on Speedos (major SARCASM)!

I know it’s weird to stop after number seven, but I could probably go on ad nauseam because the truth is a year ago this blog thing was just an idea without a name. It was a hope without an expression. So every single thing I have done has been a lesson learned. And every day that I hop on here and string words together, well, I am just grateful the internet is free and I don’t have to pass any certification exams to join the party.

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Happy 70th!

Party Streamers

Party Streamers (Photo credit: imedagoze)

I don’t know why this seems significant to me, but it does. This marks my 70th post in this space since I started blogging back in January of this year.

Seventy seems like a lot in certain contexts. For instance, 70 seems like a lot of birthdays and it really seems like a lot of wedding anniversaries. Seventy miles per hour seems like a high rate of speed. Seventy dollars seems like a lot of money for a pair of shoes or a sweater. Seventy cats or dogs would seem to be a lot of pets and 70 acres seems like a lot of land. And if there were 70 states in the USA, well that’s a lot more than 50.

But in other contexts seventy seems low or small. A 70 on a test seems like a low number. Seventy dollars also seems low for a car payment or better yet a mortgage payment. Seventy cents isn’t even enough to buy a candy bar.  Seventy square feet would seem like a very small amount of space for a house.

I am not sure what 70 means in terms of blog posts, but I will tell you what it means to me. It means that 70 times I sat down to a blank screen and words came. And enough words came to form a thought and communicate a message. Sometimes that message was more clear than others. Sometimes it was like giving birth and sometimes it flowed out like water from a fountain. Sometimes it happened at 3:45 a.m. (like this one) and sometimes it happened at 3:45 p.m. just as everyone walked in the door from school. Sometimes it came one single, solitary word at a time and sometimes it was like a flood and I couldn’t write fast enough. Sometimes I was the only one who “got it” and sometimes people “got” things I didn’t even intend.

I promised myself two things when I started this and I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this, but I have now written enough posts that I officially can’t remember everything I have and have not shared…and this bears repeating anyway:

  1. I promised myself that once I hit Publish on each post I wasn’t going to stress myself out and correct mistakes if I later found (or anyone graciously or even ungraciously pointed out) any spelling or grammar errors. I decided that part of this grace journey is being myself and being transparent, including my mistakes. So as long as a typo didn’t grossly alter the meaning of what I intended to say,  I have let them all stand as published. This is my little way of choosing to no longer live such a highly edited version of life in order to give the illusion of having it all together.  Of course there was the time I accidentally hit Publish and the post was literally only half-way written. I considered that more of an incomplete than a mistake, though.  Three hundred missing words is a little more than a typo!
  2. I also promised myself that I wouldn’t beat myself up over maintaining strict writing deadlines.  My 3D life and the people in it are more important than this space and there are just times when the speed of life crowds out words.  And that’s ok. I’ve done away with internal deadlines for myself. I don’t want to Publish just to hear myself talk (although on occasion it may sound that way). So while I like the rhythm of hitting Publish two or three times a week, it’s ok when that doesn’t happen. I don’t want this to be a formula. I want this to flow out of my life journey, not drive it.

I realize that people who are comfortable in their own skin and embrace the unique way God created them will ask themselves why I needed to promise myself these two things…well because for most of my life I haven’t been comfortable in my own skin and I had no clue about my uniqueness, let alone how to embrace it and live it.  So for this girl, both of these things have been a huge sign of freedom for me.

So here’s to 70! I celebrate all that you are. I am not worried about what you are not and I am not concerned about what you will be. I am grateful for this moment!  And I am grateful for those journeying with me.  To those who have read and endured all 70 posts and the continuing transformation, all I can say is that I am humbled that you would hang in there (I know some of it has been rough).  And to those who have only read one, I am also humbled that you would grace me with your time, and I invite you to join the conversation.

What are you celebrating in this season?  What are you grateful for?

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Two Things I Thought I Would Never Say (or Write)

English: A Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market in Win...

English: A Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market in Winter Springs, Florida. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Continuing with the theme of enjoying things…vacationing with teenagers, trying on yellow tube top dresses, and summer in general, I would like to share two things I have discovered I enjoy, but never thought I would:

1)  I LOVE The Neighborhood Market by Walmart that opened near our home.  Close friends and family are probably picking their jaws up off the floor after reading that first one.  My husband has to practically beg me (or trick me or drug me or force me at gun point :)) to get me to cross the threshold of a Walmart.  So when this store opened in February I was skeptical to say the least, but something or Someone kept whispering in the back of my mind, “Try it.”

I ignored that little voice for five months until one Saturday afternoon I put on my big girl pants and said, “Let’s do this!”  I also told myself I was free to run straight back to my car at any point I felt overwhelmed.

This is the part I can’t believe I am saying, but I have been there probably four times in the last three weeks and each time (different days, different times of day) has been a PLEASURE!  The staff is VERY friendly, the store is clean, it is well organized, well stocked, the aisles are clear, they have a good variety of foods (I forgot to mention it is Walmart’s version of a grocery store), and the prices are amazing.  The only thing I was unable to find was alfalfa sprouts, but really, those are not something to base such a life altering decision on.

I always knew I was missing out on low food prices by not shopping at our Walmart Super Center, but I figured that I was saving money on the medication I would need to do that on a regular basis by shopping at a more expensive store closer to home.

Now I have the best of both worlds – cheap food and my sanity.  Thank you Walmart!

2)  Kale Salad is my new favorite food.  My close friends and family are again stunned because vegetables, particularly greens have never been high on my list of priorities.  But this stuff is AMAZING!  I’ve eaten every day this week.

Just think, if I hadn’t tried on the yellow tube top dress at the beginning of the summer I wouldn’t have starting thinking about all the possibilities and being open to whatever comes my way.  And I would still be spending too much money on food and not enjoying this best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.

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Enjoying the Summer

Y’all, I have so been enjoying this summer.  It’s not so much what we have done, but probably what we haven’t done that has made it by far the most enjoyable summer on record for me.  The only really big thing on our calendar for the last few months was our annual trek to the beach (documented in some of its hilarity here, here, and here).  It’s the first summer that I can remember that I didn’t feel guilty about having down time so I filled it up with worthwhile and productive projects.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually did start off with a Summer Manifesto of sorts that I put in my desk drawer, but instead of allowing myself to be berated by a list of things to accomplish I decided to throw caution to the wind and not worry about it.

So I didn’t get my kitchen painted (hopefully that will be soon because my poor family has been forced to dine with various color samples on the wall for seven months while I agonize over Just The Right shade of whatever); I didn’t get up at 5:00 am every day to write so I could finish a couple of goals I have; I haven’t gone through my closet to pare my wardrobe down; and I didn’t even make up my bed every day (gasp).  I have just tried to go with the flow and enjoy time (a rare and precious commodity with working and driving teens) with my family.  Once again, in the interest of full disclosure, I was informed today at lunch by two of them that I am “always so tense about everything that it’s ridiculous” so I guess my version of going with the flow is different from theirs.  What can I say girls?  My blood sugar was low and you have my most profound and sincere apologies.  🙂

With that said I just wanted to share some interesting and funny quotes that have come my way recently.  I REALLY love a good quote!

“Hell hath no fury like a narcissist told no!” by my good friend and fellow Grace Girl, Holly (shared over lots of laughter and dinner).  I have chewed on this for weeks, because it is so true.  I think we can all relate to at least one time or one person in our lives this applies to.

“Why do I get my best ideas in the shower?” supposedly said by Albert Einstein.  Julia Cameron in her book The Artist’s Way shares Einstein’s words when discussing the difference between our logic-brain activity versus our artist-brain activity.  According to her, showering and other things like cooking, driving, and washing dishes are all more related to our creative brain activity than our logical more linear brain activity.  The reason I love that quote is because this happens to me ALL THE TIME and I thought it was just me.

English: Albert Einstein Français : portrait d...

“The Living God dwells in us, we don’t have to meet Him at a specific address,” said by me.  I actually heard myself say this to a friend as we talked about why sometimes people don’t feel like they are “doing well with the Lord” if they miss church.  Why do we feel like we have to meet God at an address?  Christ IN us is the hope of glory.  The New Testament talks about Christ in us about as much as it talks about us in Christ.  Why?  Because we are in relationship together.  We are ONE, in union with Christ.  As believers we don’t have to go looking for Him somewhere outside of ourselves.  That’s what is so amazing about the New Covenant, it’s internal not external.  Any time we want we can simply start talking with Him because He never leaves us or forsakes us.

I love a good quote, please share some with me.

That’s enough for now.  Let’s just enjoy the last few weeks of summer and embrace every season no matter what it brings.

May the Lord give you eyes to see His daily new mercies, ears to hear the songs of Love He sings over you, and a heart able to receive and accept that Love.