Do you ever watch yourself and wonder?

I don't know if this is just a me thing. Maybe it's a you thing, too.

A couple of weeks ago, I was working late and I walked around the corner to get dinner. And I didn't take any phones with me. Yes, plural. All the phones. Nothing was in my pocket dinging, buzzing, beeping. A good 10 minute walk with none of this. A rare experience anymore. My phones are my constant companions. I am a slave to the little red notification bubbles. Must clear them all, stat.

Everything is urgent. Everything is important. (except that is a lie from the devil, but you know what I mean)

So there I was, walking down the street - just me and my thoughts. Like the old days. And you know what happened? Something came back that I haven't had in years, probably because of the phones I keep in my right and left pockets and can draw out simultaneously like a good cowboy in an old Western movie drawing his guns from his holsters.

I could hear myself think.

I used to have this running commentary in my head, almost all the time. Like one of those shows that's narrated like a character - Doogie Howser, Carrie Bradshaw style. It was one of the things that made me, me.

It came back, y'all. And it was great. It felt like sinking into a big comfy chair with a hot cup of coffee and the perfect light blanket.

I was watching myself walk down that street and I was proud. Head held high. I am doing this! I have overcome so much. I have earned so much. God has seen it fit to place me right here, right now. I get to do this life of mine. And it's good.

What a complete and total honor!

Note: since this grand revelation, you'd think I'd leave my phones behind for 10 minutes more often. That has not happened. But I have thought about it. And now I'm writing about it, so - progress.

Seriously, though - do you ever hear that commentary in your head? Do you ever watch yourself and wonder how you got here, how you do this? Do you let yourself star in your life? Do you realize you are doing this? You're rocking it out and you're making it happen and you're enough and you're doing a good job? Do you ever tell yourself that, instead of hustling for someone else to notice?

Because you are. You're rocking that school lunch assembly line and still getting to work on time. You're listening to and encouraging your husband like no one else can. You're a best friend. And this is it! This is our life! These are the moments we live for. They're happening right now. Don't miss them.

Don't rush through to the next thing, or panic because you don't know how you'll "do it all." In the wise words of Nike, just do it. One foot in front of the other. You've got this. It will lead to something more.

I recently saw a video a friend posted of how she transfers her husband into bed. You can watch it here.  He is a ventilator-dependent quadriplegic and getting into bed is a long process, and anyone who doesn't understand this spinal cord injury world may wonder how does she do it? 

I think those of us that live life with an extra (obvious) challenge are sometimes tempted to say, "we just do it because we have to." But there is more to it than that. It's an art. And that makes us artists.

The truth is you have hard things in your life, too. They may not be as obvious as a wheelchair. And you endure. You put on the big girl panties. You wipe the dripping mascara off your cheeks and press on. You hear the test results, swallow, pray, and plan the treatment schedule.

I encourage you to watch yourself and cheer yourself on. You wonder how you do it? Here's a hint: you're not alone. Also, all of this has a purpose.

Romans 5:3-5

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into hour hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Did you catch that? Sufferings lead to perseverance, which leads to character, which leads to hope.

I get that when you're in the middle of the suffering the hope thing is kind of hard to grasp. Believe me, I've been there! You can't skip a step! But I promise you if you persevere, you'll get to hope. It will float up. I know this, because it is my life.

The character part is key. It's not fun, but it's a necessary step in growth.

My prayer is that you'll be kind to yourself, keep going, and learn how much God loves you and see yourself in a whole new light.

There you go, that was stream-of-consciousness writing. I'm definitely rusty writing for an audience, but hopefully you see my heart and understand the message I felt led to share with you guys through this.

Maybe This is Restoration

It's 6:00 on a Saturday morning and it is quiet in our house. The leaves have grown to their fullest on the tree that stands tall behind the white fence in our tiny back yard.

Brokaw barks when the wind blows.
Michael sleeps with the foot of the bed raised.
And I sit on the edge of the couch on the heating pad, macbook pro on my lap, tapping away at the keys. And I need another cup of coffee, as always.

Hello, everyone. I miss you.
My world is busy. Too busy, really.

I have only been to the gym once in more than a month. I feel my wobbly bits growing and I'm not happy about that.

Last weekend, Michael and I didn't leave the house at all. My SUV sat parked in the driveway in the same exact spot from Friday morning until late Sunday night. We ordered a pizza and watched Steel Magnolias and went for a family walk and picked a magnolia. I had no idea how they open and close. That's weird.

The weekend was glorious and way too short. Sunday, I sacrificed church for writing and the muse came and it was good but I missed church.

I read on Facebook this week that Glennon Doyle Melton (a.k.a. Momastery) said that writing is like peeing. It sounds weird, but I can totally relate. Well, I guess I just haven't had to pee on the blog in a while. I've been spending a lot of time learning and preparing to write my book. It's an exciting process but wow does it take a lot of time and energy!

I'm processing some big thoughts about being a wife and being a caregiver and how what I really feel like I am something in between, and I have a feeling when I figure it out, you're going to love it, and I'm going to love it, but right now I'm just so tired and I feel empty and not like I have a lot to say.

I've enjoyed reading a lot lately, though. And here are some books I recommend:
Atlas Girl, by Emily Weirenga
Carry On, Warrior, by Glennon Doyle Melton
Lean In, by Sheryl Sandberg
Work Happy, What Great Bosses Know, by Jill Geisler
Perhaps my reading list is a glimpse into my confused soul?

Recently, our 12-cup coffeemaker died and we didn't replace it.
Last weekend, our blender died and this week I made smoothies in the KitchenAid mini-chopper.

Michael has a new home health aide and together they cleaned the downstairs, and I was equal-parts thankful and feeling guilty. The lawn needs mowing and my hair needs highlighting but I'm considering staying in denial on those two.

So much of what I thought life would look like by now isn't so. I realize this post sounds more melancholy than I actually feel, which is an example of how much my writing still needs to grow. Early this year, Michael and I prayed for a year of restoration. We hold tight to 1 Peter 5:10: "The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast."

As I type this verse, my heart opens.
Maybe this confusion I'm feeling is actually restoration?
Maybe this career drive, this all-the-sudden desire to lean back in at work, to hope for the future there, is restoration.

In that time of deep grief after we first got married, when I almost lost myself, so much changed. In some ways, I'm still just a shell of the girl I was before. But in some ways, I'm back.

Maybe this is restoration.
Maybe restoration is exhausting and confusing.
Maybe restoration takes faith.
I pray I'll know it when I see it, and that I won't miss it.

What if We Traded in Our Wishes For Dreams?

Jill Phillips wrote a song called “Steel Bars.”
I love it. Look it up.

Sometimes I feel so imprisoned inside my own limitations.
Surrounded by my sin.
My discontent.
Not holy discontent.
Sinful discontent.
The kind that causes you to look around and wish for anything and everything that is not your current reality.

I wish I had her arms.
I wish my husband could mow the lawn.
I wish we could afford to go to that concert.
I wish I didn’t have to work.
I wish I could sleep at night.
wish
wish
wish

At the end of each wish is a tastier, greener-grass, more-fulfilling, easier life.
The problem with all of those wishes, though?
They are lies.
Because if I had her arms, I’d want her arms.
And if my husband could mow the lawn, I’d wish he wouldn’t do something else.
And there are never enough concerts.
If I didn’t work, I’d wish I did.
Sleep is something I wish for when I’m exhausted, but something I wish away when I’m on a productive streak.

I’d rather dream than wish, anyway.
Because at least dreams are something I can work towards.
Dreams are possible.
Dreams are actionable.

We can take our dreams to our God and to our friends and to our husbands and mull them around. They can bend and stretch and sometimes die or become something else, but they’re moldable.

We can do something about dreams.

So today, I take my discontent and all my “why me’s” and my wishes to the cross.
Lay them down.
Trade those burden in.
For dreams.
And goals.
And possibility and grace and favor and ask God to partner with me in making change, instead of begging for a different life than the one He clearly has designed for me.

I’ll put one foot in front of the other.

Trust.
Hope.
Pray.
Run towards God with my questions and my fears and my passions and dreams.

A couple of years ago, I was producing a TV interview with a presidential candidate and his wife and there was something she said that stopped me in my tracks. She was talking about a very difficult circumstance they had to face in their life and she said that she was able to move forward when she stopped asking God “why,” and started asking Him “what?”

I stopped the timer on my iPhone, which I was using to time the interview. I opened up my notes app and typed that in there.

I still use that lesson. I knew when I couldn’t sleep last night because of my sinful discontent that I was back in the weeds of the “why.”

It took some crying and complaining and kicking and screaming, but now I’m back at the “what?”

Let’s skip the why step, y’all.
It’s no fun, anyway.
Let’s dream instead of wish.
Pray instead of complain.
Set goals instead of waste time.

I think the easiest thing to do and the hardest thing to do is to decide to love where we are right now.
It’s easiest because the only thing that needs to change is us.

It’s hard because everything inside of us is telling us that we shouldn’t have to/don’t want to/don’t have to/it’s not fair/it’s not our fault/etc.

In the wise words of The Fray “Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.
The thing is right in font of us.
Let’s love that.

On Blooming

The thought of blooming is all over the place, if you read Christian women's stuff.
I get it.
It's the symbolism, right?

Something is planted.
Watered.
Then, after a time, it comes to life.

It's a beautiful picture, really.
The imagery of it all.

The flowers are really pretty.
They're colorful, and they smell nice and they make people happy.

None of the "bloom" stuff comes with pictures of dirt, though, does it?
But those beautiful flowers, before they get to be beautiful flowers, they're just measly little seeds, buried in a bunch of dirt.

I feel like that, sometimes.
Like just a little seed.
Under the weight of a bunch of dirt.
I want to grow.
I have great desires to be tall and full of life and beautiful.
But I can hardly breathe under this dirt.

Do you ever feel that way?

I was thinking about blooming when I was writing this morning at Starbucks. I was thinking about how often times, I look around and I am so quick to be jealous.

I'll compare my seed-in-the-dirt to someone else's fully bloomed flowers. I think that's more beautiful than what I have.

I want a baby to take to a strawberry patch.
I want a house with a wrap-around porch.
I want to be an author and a speaker and a professional blog-conference-goer.

But, I'll spend another Mother's day getting a card from Brokaw.
In my condo.
And I'll work overnights in a TV newsroom.

It's okay, though. Because these dreams inside of me are seeds. They are being watered, and one day, they will bloom! There will be new life. New beauty. A sweet aroma.

I can feel it coming.
In January, as we looked ahead to 2014, Michael and I decided our theme for the year would be "Restoration."

"The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast."
-1 Peter 5:10

It's happening.
The restoration.
I have a renewed desire to be alone with my God, to lean into what He's dreaming for my life.
To trust that He loves me just like He says he does.

Almost every Sunday in our church, at least one song has to do with the resurrection. New life. I love that.

I'll bloom one of these days.
For now, I'll drink the water and just get ready for it.

And you know what? I think that's a beautiful thing.

So friends, if you're here in the dirt with me, give yourself a little grace. We'll bloom. When it's time.

Only If You Let It: Thoughts on Life After Easter

Last Sunday was Easter. So this girl, who usually wears jeans to church, put on a dress.

My entire outfit was from StitchFix. I felt feminine and pretty and Springy and it was glorious.

We sang songs about Jesus raising from the dead, and I was reminded that THAT is what my life is built on, and THAT changes everything and dreams and hopes and redemption ARE possible because of THAT.

Enter the resurrected life, right?

Because the Friday and Saturday before Sunday were not great.

Sunday: I made soup and we snuggled and rested and I did not mow the jungle that is the back yard.
Monday: I left work ON TIME for pretty much the first time, ever and I went to the gym. This resulted in me not being able to move normally for the next four days, but it was a good sore and I was happy to have it.

I started reading Stephen King's book, On Writing, and discover I have things in common with Stephen King. Never would have guessed it but hey, I love active verbs, so that's that.

Tuesday: Didn't go as I planned.
Wednesday: Didn't go as I planned.
Thursday: Didn't go as I planned.

Friday: I left work later than I wanted, but I spent the afternoon with my dad. You guys remember, my dad almost died a couple of months ago, so the fact that we were sitting outside, and he was showing me how to till up a garden, is kind of a big deal. Three months in the hospital changes your perspective, but only if you let it.

So, my point is this:
This resurrected life, it's still not perfect.

We're going to have plans that don't pan out.
We're going to lose the battle to do the good and right thing, sometimes.
But Jesus rose from the dead, y'all! And that changes everything.
So, when we get down or swallowed up... it's okay... because He beat all that, and we get to, too.

But, much like perspective changes your outlook only if you let it, hope can change you, but only if you let it.

Stress, Happiness and Pharrell

I'm one cup of coffee into this Sunday morning and I'm thinking back on yesterday, and all of its glory and how it ended in heartbreak.

I like to process and it's a lot to process and my neck is tense and Michael is still asleep and Brokaw is snout snoring beside me, and I can feel it getting colder outside by the moment and I hate that.

I write run-on sentences before my second cup of coffee, just so you know. Standby for rambling.

The clock just crossed one minute over the church threshold. You know the church threshold, right? Like two minutes ago, it would have been possible to run around here like a tasmanian devil, get my husband up and dressed, throw him in his wheelchair, then in the van, swallow a bite of breakfast, and speed to church.

But now it's 8:02 a.m., and we are going to the 11:00 a.m. service.

So, I can breathe. Fire up the Keurig for another cup, and exhale here in this place, my little chunk of the internet.

Let's talk about yesterday.

It started as a bit of a struggle. I wish I skipped down the street singing Pharrell's "Happy." Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I don't. Almost always the thing that stops me is stress.

I'm horrible at letting stress run my life. Boundaries are a joke in my world. This must change. Will you pray for me as I sincerely try to let go of some things, lean into my faith, and trust God? That I will once and for all know and live in this idea of joy that is not ruined by circumstances? That what I know in my heart about being set free will float up to my brain and cut off the blood flow to that part of my brain that is constantly timing things, scheduling things, double checking things and thinking that it's totally possible for me to be in two or three places at once?

The madness needs to stop.

I know it's on me. I am the author of the madness. 

I know I also have access to THE author of my life and the universe, and I need to calm it down and stop trying to run the world.

I don't have time to run the world. 

I'm considering playing this video first thing every morning when I'm getting Michael up, and forcing myself to be happy.

Michael's latest devotional post

Comfort in the Midst of Chaos: The Breath of Life: Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a livin...

Hope Floats Up In The In-Between

Over the Summer, I read Jeff Goins' The In-Between. Great book. Get it.

The In-Between is right where we are right now. My dad survived a risky lung biopsy on Thursday. He came back off the ventilator yesterday.

Now, we wait.
Until Monday, at least, that's what we are thinking.

That's when the pathology results are expected. So that we can know what it is that appears to be quickly destroying his lungs.

It's hard to think about anything else. It's hard to stop googling and reading medical journals and studies.
That's because we are in-between.

Jeff writes, "There are no throwaway moments - not when it's easy, not when it's hard, not when it's boring, not when you're waiting for something to happen. Throw those moments away and you will look back someday, bereft at what you missed, because it's the good stuff, the best stuff. It's all there is."

So, we wait.
My dad's room in the ICU is filled with laughter and memories the past couple of days. For now, that seems better than quiet and beeps, so I'll take it.

Each moment of it.
As I brace myself for what is next - whatever that may be.

My sweet, giving mother-in-law is in town, taking care of Michael and baking cookies and taking Brokaw for walks.

I've been able to enjoy time with my sister and my brother's girlfriend and my sweet baby nephew, Caplin.

I've had deep, tearful phone conversations with my mom.

All in the in-between.

Meanwhile, the amaryllis my mom gave us for Christmas is like two feet tall, and the pound of coffee I bought my dad for Christmas sits in the cabinet.

And when I have a moment to sit and think and pray, I'm blessed with verses and book quotes and movie quotes that pop in to my head.

I love this one right now, too - from Hope Floats:

"Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts. So when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will."

I Wish I Didn't Like Stuff

Sometimes I look back on my single days so fondly.

Like, what did I do with all of my free time?

Oh yeah, I wandered around my apartment, wearing a cushy blanket and eating Chef Boyardee Spaghetti and Meatballs and eating Famous Amos cookies, and watching seasons of Gilmore Girls on DVD and I read Nicholas Sparks books.

The truth is, those days weren't really all that great.

But, the shopping was!

The other day, I had to go to Target and spend $93.00 on things like allergy medicine, and medical supplies and ziploc bags and I had to just walk by all of the fun stuff.

Target is evil, because they make you pass the cute stuff to get to the necessary stuff.
But, I stayed strong.

I did not buy any of the following three things that wanted me to buy them.

1. The Choose Love/Be Amazing/Choose Happiness/Be Peaceful/Feel Beautiful candles. I think these candles smell so good, plus I'm such a sucker for cute packaging. But, nothing was on clearance, so I walked away.

2. New scents of Mrs. Meyers Clean Day. I'm addicted to this stuff, but I usually stock up around Earth Day, when the coupons are awesome.

3. Random blue Ball Vintage Style Mason Jars. Pinterest pretty much exploded in my brain as I walked by, and I thought of like 47 cute things I could create in/with these jars.

I actually left Target the other day feeling kind of down. We had a very tough Summer, financially. And things are finally getting better, thank the Lord! But, I can't bring myself to spend money on things we just don't need.

I wish I just didn't want stuff! It would be so much easier. I wish if I had an extra $30, I wanted to spend it on something noble like feeding hungry kids or giving so they can have clean water, or saving those sad, slow motion dogs in those Sarah McLachlan commercials, and I do want to save those dogs and feed the children.

But I also want all this cute Target crap that I don't need.

Oh well. I'm proud of myself for walking away.

Because I'm a grown up now, and I have to make wise choices with the money that we're blessed with.

I miss the rush of shopping, but I have learned to get a little rush out of saving money instead of spending it.

Saturday, I went to Sam's Club thanks to my new membership (thanks, Mom!) and I'm so excited to save money by shopping there again.

Also, I realized that the Jiffy Lube Groupon is back, if you live in Hampton Roads, this is a good one and I'm always so happy when it coincides with when our vehicles are due for service.

And, I found out that emeals is running a Cyber Week special, so you can get 30% off their meal plans. This is awesome for us, because I loved doing the Fresh20 meal plan, but we stopped doing that when we started eating Paleo, and having to plan my own menu each week is just too stressful and I usually fail and end up at a drive thru or ordering food through an app or standing in line every Thursday at Chipotle, and that's not cool.

I hope those links help you if you're in a similar situation.
I've also found that pinning things I want on Pinterest is a fun window-shopping type experience that is generally free.

On Birthdays, And Contentment, And Screamers

Every year on my birthday, my mom calls me at exactly 11:28 am, the moment of my birth.
I don't remember when the tradition began, but I love it.

So, I'm 34 now people. 34.

I guess it's kind of an in-between age. I don't feel bad about it. It's fine.

33 was one of the best and hardest years for me. I didn't blow any candles out on my 33rd birthday, but I did make a birthday wish, for a baby.

Yesterday, Michael and I were shopping and stopped at Starbucks for afternoon lattes and as I was finishing up my pumpkin spice, and he was sipping the last of his caramel, we heard one of those screamers.

You know the screamer kids. Their parents just desperately wanted to go to the mall - for Stride Rites, or maybe for something for themselves, but it took too long to find a parking space, or maybe they shifted their schedule to go with a friend, and so they missed nap time by 20 minutes and now their angel baby is a full-on screamer. They're horrified and getting looks of sympathy from some, and judgement from others.

I never saw the kid. I felt sympathy, but wasn't close enough to give a look.
Michael and I looked at each other, "I'm glad for where we are right now."

And then we went to Old Navy.
Just like that.

Contentment is a funny thing.
When you don't have it - it seems so far out of reach! There were months this year that I cried myself to sleep, that I had to block dear friends and their ultrasound and babies-in-pumpkin-patches pictures on Facebook, because I didn't have the one thing I wanted so badly.

I prayed and prayed, even at one point hashing it out with God - trying to give this dream up, thinking maybe that's what was holding me back from getting it.

And, little by little, when I wasn't looking - much like we age - here I am at this new place.
Where there's a screamer in the mall, and I'm perfectly happy with just a latte.

Even if my name is misspelled.

This Fall is full of exciting opportunities for us. Next weekend, I'll be at Allume (a Christian women's blogging conference in South Carolina). The weekend after that, Michael and I are so excited to host our first getaway for couples like us who also juggle a disability in their marriage. Later in November, I'm going to a caregiving conference in Philadelphia.

My 35th year is taking shape, already. And while I had put all of this pressure on myself to have a baby by age 35 (because you know, research shows if you have a kid later, it has 9 heads), I realize now that was completely not the plan, and this completely is the plan.

So, I'm content.
And it happened not when I tried so hard to be content.
But just when I put one foot in front of the other, when I woke up each night and went to work and bought groceries and got my husband dressed.
Something changed.

I'm not giving up the baby dream. I hope it does happen one day.
But I don't think it's going to be this year. I think this is going to be the year for writing and speaking and helping couples connect and find contentment of their own in this crazy life.

And I'll drink a latte to that.

It's Not This, It's Me

Let's talk about stress for a minute.

Today I woke up 2 minutes before my alarm, panicking. In my dream, all I wanted to do was to go to CrossFit. But Michael kept calling me back. He had the lawn mower and was trying to figure out a way to mow the lawn. I knew I needed to mow it, so - I set my gym stuff down and started walking the lawn mower to the back yard to mow. Then, when I was pushing the mower, I noticed all these bags hanging on it - the bag I use for work, plus a bunch of reusable grocery bags. That mower was overloaded with bags! I was trying so hard to push it, and then I saw my CrossFit coach go by, and people from the gym were like, "are you coming?" And I started to cry.

Then I woke up, in tears, panicked, and so tired. Like I do every day, I got up and made coffee. But unlike every day, I decided to not go to the gym.

I decided to sit down, watch the news, then come upstairs and write.

Because the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, right?

I'm one of these people who stresses themselves out. Are you familiar with this type?

We fill all of our "free" time with obligations, we have never-ending lists of things that need to be done at work and at home, and given an extra 10 minutes here or there, we'll check those lists to see what we can do as to not "waste" any time.

It's sick, really.

The weird thing is, in the professional world - we are hailed as organized, productive, and lauded for being the people who "get things done."

Well, we do. That's true.

This time last year, I was in the thick of traveling constantly for work - covering the Presidential campaign. I absolutely LOVED it! But, I wasn't home a lot, and when I was, I was so tired, I didn't enjoy spending time savoring life with my husband. All I did was rush around, cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping.

We decided we would get through the election, then re-evaluate. So, the election came and went. And then I was presented with a great job opportunity back in my hometown at a TV station I worked at about 10 years ago, the station I grew up watching.

It was a perfect fit, and everything happened so fast. We moved here and got settled and living at the beach and near family has been great.

But guess what I do?
I work, work, WORK, then rush home and rush around cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and now I've added to that - going to the gym.

And Michael looks at me like I'm crazy. And I get jealous of him because he gets to work from home, doesn't have all of the responsibilities I have, and he just seems so relaxed. And I don't get it.

Because when I sit down to read a book, or watch TV - you know - relax - for more than like 5 minutes, I fall asleep.

I realized and admitted this weekend that I have resentment over that! That is not good. There were tears, there was forgiveness, and I'm trying a different way.

I'm owning up to the fact that it never was my busy DC job, it wasn't all the travel, it isn't because I am the breadwinner and a caregiver and it isn't because I work an overnight schedule.

It's me.

For a while, everything in my life has been pointing me toward facing this, but I'm finally doing it.

If this is something you struggle with - I recommend Jeff Goins' latest book, "The In-Between," which I finished this weekend (without falling asleep!!) and this message Michael sent me months ago, but I just listened to, by Jack Graham.

I'm tired. Something has to give. It's time to try a different way.

I am Splenda.

I remember one time my friend Ginger told me that when she heard the song, “I Will Praise You in the Storm,” that she thought of me.

Oh, Ginger.

If you only knew.

I don’t praise Him in storm.

I don’t even trust Him.

I’m pretty good at thanking Him during the good times - but being proud of that is like getting a trophy for showing up for team picture day.

I suck, actually.

I kick and scream and pout and I’m passive-aggressive towards my husband, I curse and cry in the car when I’m alone.

Because there are parts of this that I hate.

There are times that I just can’t get past the unfairness.

When that song comes on the radio, I’ll sing along. I may even go full-on Christian and close my eyes, and try really hard to mean it.

“I will praise you in this storm, and I will lift my hands, you are who you are, no matter where I am...”

But, I’m not kidding anyone. Not myself, and certainly not God.

Right now, I am in this season of seeing my faith for what it really is.

Splenda.

Hear me out.

You’re familiar with Splenda, right?

It’s the yellow packet.

The label says “made from sugar, so it tastes like sugar.”

I saw a part of a documentary about this. 

I am not a scientist, but I did pretty well in Dr. Conyers high school chemistry class.

Enough to understand that Sucralose (Splenda) is almost identical to Sucrose (Sugar), except for one little thing - Sucralose is chlorinated. When you glance at the molecular structure, they look identical. You have to look really, really close - maybe even a couple of times - to see that CI in place of OH.

**I now believe that both Splenda and Sugar are evil and make you unhealthy, but that’s beside the point. This is not a story about nutrition, or even chemistry. It’s a spiritual truth.

I’ve been wanting to have a baby for about two years. We all know that hasn’t happened yet, for various reasons.

The number one reason that no one who isn’t hanging out in my heart and in my head doesn’t know is that it’s because I’m afraid.

I am afraid to try.

To really try, consistently. 

I am afraid of trying and it not working, and being heartbroken.

I am afraid of that leading to trouble between me and my husband.

I am afraid of being mad at God.

Because I’ve been there before, and that was no fun.

Recently, our pastor preached one of those messages that slapped me in the face, in a good way.

Here are the points:

1. Jesus accepts you just as you are, but loves you too much to leave you there.
2. Your devotion to Jesus is not dependent upon your circumstances, emotions or cultural trends.
3. You as a member of the church, must be committed to knowing the Word of God and living by it, regardless of circumstances, emotions or cultural trends.
4. You must choose to follow Jesus, to travel down the road of apostasy.
5. Your choice to follow Jesus will be rewarded.

This message forced me to look in the mirror.

To face the fact that even though I look like I believe, act like I believe, and even inspire others to believe... I don’t really believe.

I am Splenda.

Splenda sweetens your coffee, it satisfies your sweet tooth, it even looks like sugar, but it’s not.

It’s so close, but so far away.

I have the flavor of faith, but no real faith.

The good news for me is that that’s okay! It’s never too late to be obedient, to change directions, and to take those little steps of faith that will eventually lead to big steps. See the points Pastor Kyle makes above - it's up to me. Jesus has done/is doing/will forever do His part.

James 1:22: Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.

Anyone out there dare to join me? To press in and press on until we really believe? Until we really trust God?

I don’t know if I’ll ever get to the point of actually praising Him in the storm. I don’t know if I’ll ever give birth to a baby. But this isn’t about that. This is about being real, and seeking truth and admitting that I’m not in control, that I can’t figure this out in a million Google searches. 

I have a long way to go.

We'll Get Together One of These Days

Tomorrow, after work, I'm going to a funeral.

Ashley's FB Profile Pic

The second funeral this year I never in a million years would have imagined I'd be going to.

My friend Ashley died unexpectedly, Sunday morning, while she was teaching youth at church.

I couldn't believe it when I first heard. She was just 31.

We had been meaning to get together.

Ashley and I weren't close friends, but we shared lots of fun high school memories, like cheerleading and Alpha. The stuff that binds you together as sisters, forever.

Recently, we stayed in touch via social media. Liking and sharing each other's pictures on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. She followed my tweets during the election, and was a frequent commenter on the blog here.

She wanted Michael and I to come and share our story to her youth group. We talked most often about the Jesus Calling devotional, and blogs that we both loved - like the work of Lisa Jo Baker and Ann Voskamp, and youth ministry ideas for young girls.

Ashley loved Jesus. She followed him with her whole heart. I saw her life change and go down that path. Her handsome husband, her adorable kids - her son who looks just like her, and her daughter who looks just like Jamie.

I can't believe she is gone.

When we moved back to Virginia Beach, I was overwhelmed with wanting to get together with so many people. Ashley was one.

We'll get together one of these days, we'd say.

Now, we have to wait until Heaven.

I hate that.

But I know that Ashley's faith was strong. I know she is happy and she with Jesus, and that that kind of love and peace is even greater than young, beautiful, fulfilling life on this Earth.

I admit that my own faith is weak. I want life here to last as long as it can. I don't want pain. I don't want struggle. I don't want grief. I constantly beg God for mercy. I'm learning through this experience of her death, that we can lean into the faith of others, when our faith isn't mature enough. I've leaned into Ashley's faith so much this week.

When I first heard of her death on Sunday, I was so angry. Why did this happen? How could God let this happen?

There was a tiny seed of faith inside me that told me that even if her death brought one person to Jesus, Ashley would agree to it.

Now, here we are - days later - people from all parts of her life, connecting like we haven't ever done before, and what are we talking about?

JESUS.

I went to bed Sunday night, holding on to my husband extra tight. So thankful to have air in my lungs. The first few days were all about that.

Profound gratitude for this life.

Now, I feel a shift.

A challenge.

To center my life around what matters for eternity.

Ashley did.

In her life - and in her death - everything pointed to the Lord.

That's what He calls us to do.

That's the kind of life I want to lead.

Thank you, my dear sister, for pointing us in the way we should go.

Thank you for sharing what inspired you, with us.

I'll never forget your smile.

Your beauty. I tried to hate you for being so beautiful, but I couldn't. You were too sweet. And funny.

I'll really never forget your laugh.

I am sorry we didn't get together to catch up.

But I thank you for living your life in such a way that your funeral will be a beautiful celebration, and a reunion for all of us who were blessed enough to get a piece of you while you were here.

Just wait until you see that Baptist Church full of former Indian River High School Cheerleaders/Alpha Angels together like one giant pack. The stock on waterproof mascara will soar tomorrow morning.

Rest easy, Ashley.

To everyone that reads this -- Please join me in praying for Ashley's husband Jamie, her 7 year old son Mason, and her 4 year old daughter, Marley.

And all of her close friends. Friends way closer than me.

I just can't imagine what it would be like to go from normal happy life to a funeral, in less than a week.

I'd appreciate if you pass this page along to raise prayer awareness and money for this family, during this difficult time.

Joni and Ken: An Untold Love Story (Review & GIVEAWAY)

Last Saturday morning, before the sun came up, I finished a book.

Not just any book.

A book that I feel one day, I'll be able to write myself, somewhat.

I finished this book with tears streaming down my face.
Two minutes after I finished it, I crawled back into the darkness and pile of pillows and blankets that is our king sized bed, and snuggled into my favorite place in the world.

Michael's right shoulder.

I shed a couple of tears on my favorite quad's chest.

You see, it took me weeks to finish this book.
Because I had to keep putting it down.
Some parts of it were just too real, too painful for me to read.

Like this, about Ken adjusting to living and loving someone with a disability:

"It took a while to separate himself emotionally from what happened in the bathroom, but he was able to shake it off. With God's help, he believed he was up to the task. She believed he was too. But it didn't take away the fear."

When Joni and Ken met and fell in love, she was already paralyzed. Living in a wheelchair and all of that was already a part of her "normal" life. Ken was swept off his feet by Joni. I can't blame him. She is breathtakingly beautiful, and full of God's grace. Who in their right mind, with the chance, wouldn't be swept away?

I was swept away with my quad, too.
I remember those days of simultaneously falling in love, and swimming in fear.
But the sweetest part of it was being able to trust God, and trust Michael.

Joni and Ken: An Untold Love Story takes you through their journey of meeting and falling in love, and getting married, and then, the part that made me cry.

When they fell into the routine of everyday living/caregiving/working/marriage and keeping a house, and before they knew it...

"It was like climbing a mountain where you took one step ahead and slid back two; instead of making progress, you felt like you were going backward. No matter how diligently you worked at it, you were never 'done.'

Sometimes he found himself asking, How did I get here? Why is everything so hard? Why don't things ever get better?"

Joni and Ken have had additional and different struggles than we've had. Joni has had to deal with chronic pain, and breast cancer. Ken had to learn what it's like to be married to a famous person.

But, there is so much that we relate to, and so much to learn from this treasure of a book. I encourage anyone who is married to read it, especially if you juggle a disability in your marriage.

My favorite line of the whole book? It's from the beginning, when they were out on a boat, just the two of them, during their dating days.

"Ken spoke up. 'It could work, you know.'"

Joni and Ken are 30 years into their beautiful marriage. That's almost 10 times as into this as we are. We're thankful to have them as great role models to look up to. I am personally grateful that they decided to peel the veil back, and let us in. I'm also grateful for their ministry, Joni and Friends, which we've both been blessed by, and had the opportunity to serve.

We're so blessed that we've been able to meet them and get to know them.

I'd like to bless one of you with a copy of this book. Please share this blog post on Facebook, and you'll be entered to win. I'll randomly pick a winner, and contact you via Facebook to let you know you've won by Sunday, May 12th.

You can buy the book here.

On Going Back to *THE* Church

Well.
Look at that.
It's Saturday, again.

These weeks are just flying by!
Working 10 hour days doesn't leave much time for blogging, and I really miss it.

But, I'm here now.

Last Sunday, we went to church.
It was great, being back in church again.

This wasn't just any church. It was the church where I was first born as a little bitty, baby Christian.
I was 16, and I wore nothing but Old Navy, and I drove a 1982 Red Pontiac Firebird.

Jesus changed my life, and fueled everything in between then and now.
Now.
Now I'm back.
Not as a 16 year old blonde in a hot car.
But as a 33 year old married blonde (minus my current root situation) in a minivan.
Oy.

It's a strange feeling - going back to a place that was so monumental in making you who you are today, but being older, wiser (?), and married and mid-career.

I felt old.
But, I'm glad I'm back.

Even with my forehead wrinkles.
And my minivan.
Especially with my husband.

There's no place like home.

On Choosing to Love Your Life

Choices.
We make them all day long, every single day.
Some, without thinking about it.
Others, we agonize over and over think.

Lots of little choices add up to a big choice - to love your life.

Man, am I learning something about this! I had a lesson in it yesterday, in fact.

I woke up and took the dogs out. 100% normal.
I came back inside to make coffee. 100% normal.
But then I realized that Michael was sitting up in bed, fully awake. 100% not normal.
I like to have some quiet time alone before helping him. This little tweak in our "normal" sent me on a roller coaster of anger and discontent. I fought it, trying to reign in my unglued emotions.

I was not winning.
I got him up and half way dressed, while having a horrible attitude.

Then, he served me. He rubbed my aching back, and showed me how to do this. How to love first thing in the morning, when you're tired, and you haven't taken care of yourself yet. And, it turned my day around.

It's all about choices.

When I was at Allume in October, I met the ladies from iBloom. iBloom is a Christian life coaching company. Their mission is to help women live lives of passion, balance, purpose and fulfillment.

That sure sounded good to me, so I signed up! Now, I'm an iBloom Ambassador. iBloom will help equip you in each of those areas (passion, balance, purpose, and fulfillment) so that you can choose to love the life that you live.

It's a one year journey, and this book, iChoose2 Love My Life, is your guide. I'm taking this journey this year, myself. If you'd like to join me, I'd love to connect, and go through the book together!

If you go to the iBloom website and sign up, registration and weekly videos are FREE! The book is about $10. Here's the deal. If you want to join me in this journey, COMMENT below. I will buy one person a book, and have it mailed to you! I will choose this winner randomly, from the comments.

iChoose2 Love My Life will give you a theme to work on each week. And it's written in a way that you pace yourself. For example, one week we will focus on being grateful, then forgiveness, being optimistic... you get the picture.

There are 52 of these themes.

I know I need this book.
I know that a new year, starting a new job, and moving to a new town is the perfect opportunity for a little self-assessment. I don't know about you, but I always have areas of my life that need to be worked on!

Here's a cool way that you can join in with a bunch of other women also going on this journey in 2013. We're having a PARTY! You're all invited. It's Tuesday, January 8th at 8:00pm Eastern. Click that link back there to register, it's free!

(Disclaimer: This post includes affiliate links, which means I will be compensated if you choose to buy the book through the link I've provided. Please know, though, that I would never recommend something that I haven't read and loved myself!)

Remember, if you want a free book, as a GIFT from me, comment below, and I'll buy you a book!

Season of Thanksgiving

I joined several others through November posting thanks on my Facebook profile. I think I made it to day 12, but really did enjoy the  practice. The thankful posts were an especially refreshing break following the presidential election. I still wrestle whether the election posts or the retro ecard quotes are more annoying.

One of the great things about Facebook is how it connects us. I think about my cousin who, almost a year ago, was injured in a horrible auto accident. She is still recovering, but has hundreds of fans following her story and praying for her every day. Then there is an old friend who was killed in Afghanistan. A group page allowed us to share memories and encourage his family. So many other pages do the same thing.

As we connect with readers of this blog and friends of friends who happen by I am reminded of how far Dana and I have come in this ministry opportunity. We really didn't set out to become a catalyst that would touch others' lives. But seeing people genuinely connect and find some relief by reading our story is a great reward. Then you guys share your stories that touch us and others. That's AWESOME!

So, I put away cheeky anecdotes and opinions and wrap up November saying thank you. Thank you for reading our story, encouraging my wife, and becoming part of our community. Thank you for sharing our story with others. Thank you for making this worthwhile.

Where My Heart Really Is: Wounded Warriors

There are times when you just know.
You know you are exactly where you are supposed to be, at the exact time you are supposed to be there.

It's easier to be yourself when you're in that place, isn't it?
When your heart is so full, and your mind is so aware, and you care so much that there is much joy in the giving.

That place for me, is serving Wounded Warriors.

I grew up in a patriotic family with a long history of military service. So, I've always been a girl who recognizes the service and sacrifice of our military and their families. But last year, something happened.

When my little brother was spending a year in Afghanistan with the 10th Mountain Division, a guy from his company was seriously injured in an IED blast. I'll never forget the fear and trembling in my brother's voice when he told me about it a couple of days later.

I began to pray for this guy and his family.
Then, Chris came home on leave, and we went to visit Derek and meet his mom and then girlfriend (now fiance'!) at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, MD.

Something inside me shifted that day.
It was hard to come home from the hospital and think that anything else mattered. I had to do something. So, with your help, I began making meals for some of the wounded warriors and their families, and delivering them to the hospital.

Michael and I became good friends with Derek and Krystina as Derek healed.
Derek and Krystina and Derek's mom, Siobhan (aka "Team Derek") blessed us with a van!

For the last few months, I haven't been to Walter Reed, because I was traveling so much for our election coverage.
And I missed it so much.
Because my heart is there, with those guys. And the women who stand by them.
I want to help.

I am profoundly grateful for their service and sacrifice.
And I know the lasting impact of a traumatic life-changing injury. I believe that Michael and I are in a unique position to guide these young couples.
My heart beats for exactly that.

I've been so busy since August, that I haven't had time to sit down and sort out my thoughts about an experience we got to be a part of at the end of the Summer: The Joni and Friends Wounded Warrior Getaway at Sandy Cove in Maryland.

Thank you so much to those of you who donated so that we could be a part of this.

I want to share the long weekend in mid-September with you now.

We arrived on Saturday.

Our room was great. Fully wheelchair accessible (we don't have a roll-in shower at home, so it's always nice to have one when we get the chance), awesome view.
We met the other volunteers, and started our training - which was very educational and eye-opening - all about what our warriors face on the battlefield, and the challenges they have adjusting when they get home.

Sunday, we had a little more training, then were commissioned for serving at the Getaway. The wounded warriors and their families arrived in the afternoon.

We helped them to their rooms.
Then, we all came together.
It's amazing how a bunch of silly hats and costumes can break down language barriers.
At our Getaway, there were six Georgian warriors. Not like Waffle House Georgia, but Georgia, the country.
They didn't speak a lot of English, but smiles translate in any language.

We had dinner together, then headed out by the water to watch a patriotic boat parade, and have homemade ice cream.

Then, we did something else that you don't need English for - we danced.

That night, I dug up the Russian I learned in high school, and I was able to connect with wives of the Georgian warriors. Thank God for Google translate on my phone, too! It was fun.

The next morning, they welcomed me to sit with them. And we all became friends on Facebook.

There were a lot of super fun activities for the warriors and their families to participate in, like fishing.
It was so neat to see them take advantage of all of the opportunities.

We even got to the chance to do some awesome things we've never done before, either.

Like kayaking.

 

Michael and I had a role helping the Georgian warriors and their wives/caregivers. It was a joy getting to know them. During the sessions, we would meet as a group with the Georgians' doctor as our translator. We talked about war, and injury, and the effects of both. We bonded as we shared our stories with each other.

By Monday, we felt like old friends.

Laughing, and eating, and doing the Hokey Pokey and playing Limbo and sitting by a fire.

 

 

 

And we lit these really cool lanterns, and set them off.

Sib Charles, Program Director for Joni and Friends Eastern PA (and fellow quad wife) helped me overcome my fear of fire. Kind of. Okay, not really, but it was sweet that she tried.

 

 

Tuesday, the adventures continued.

Each morning, we started with singing and games and giveaways.

There were only two children at our Getaway, and they had their socks blessed off.

Mike King, Community Resource Coordinator for Joni and Friends, shared his story, and brought out some of his adaptive equipment and the Georgian warriors were eager to jump right on and get going! It was so neat seeing their smiles!

 

I can only imagine how freeing that must have felt for them.

That afternoon, the wives and one warrior's mother were treated at the spa!

It was equally as heartwarming to see these precious ladies being pampered.

 

Then, another super-amazing first for my guy and myself - PARASAILING.

We seriously had the most adventurous Summer, ever. First surfing, and now parasailing.

We got Michael and his wheelchair transferred on to the boat.

Then, I went first.

When I was up there, I realized, Michael could totally do this!

So, I convinced him, and the next thing you know, he was up there!

It's so quiet up there.

Peaceful.

And you get such a good perspective, looking down from above like that.

It was profound.

After dinner, another once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the warriors. The chance to go up in a hot air balloon!

 

That night, we had a coffeehouse, and my husband may or may not have embarrassed me by singing not one, not two, but three songs at karaoke. Three. Really?

It all ended on Wednesday. 

We saw bonds made, wounds healed, and relationships restored.

What began at Sandy Cove was just the beginning. Since then, we've been able to stay in touch with the warriors through Facebook, and on Tuesday, we'll have the honor of seeing the Georgian warriors again, at Walter Reed.

I can't wait to hug their necks and see their smiles, and fire up Google Translate on my phone again.

And Michael and I will be there on Thursday too - to serve Thanksgiving dinner with an amazing non-profit, Operation Ward 57. I'm looking forward to visiting and bringing meals again, on a regular basis.

It takes ALL of us to heal the wounds of war. They're so much deeper than just the physical wounds that you can see. There is so much unseen that needs to be healed as well. 

I love these families, and I'm honored to play a small part in their healing.

1 Corinthians 13:13 says, "Three things will last forever--faith, hope, and love--and the greatest of these is love."

Let's love them back.

This is really where my heart is.