beautiful things

Gungor - Beautiful Things (Acoustic)

God, i need you to reshape my image of you. this impression that i've had of you, that is not truly you, i'm sorry for allowing it to affect how i approach you and let you speak to me.

these faltering friendships that make my heart heavy- i'm sorry that i've seen you as an unfaithful friend; unfair and apathetic. i need you to show me your faithfulness and concern for my heart.

these experiences of emotional abuse, manipulation and abandonment- they weren't you. they were flawed humans, unaware of their actions toward me. that wasn't you. you wouldn't leave me to fend for myself or use my pain for your own, selfish advantage. please, show me that you are my hero; that i can find you and that you would scour the earth to find me.

those times when i felt second to everything; when i thought my needs weren't as important or my time not as worthwhile- that wasn't you. please, reveal to me how desperate your heart is for me. i need to know.

these images that i've plastered to you- they aren't you. you aren't human; your knowledge isn't human; your love isn't human; your power isn't human. i need you to prove these blurry impressions wrong, so wrong. i need you to reshape my idea of who you are.

these desires in my heart that are going unmet, unanswered- i need to know that the silence isn't because you don't care. i know you can; i need to know you want to.

make me new. remake my idea of you. i need you to.

Trudging (v.) see also: life

When I see the word "trudging" I think of two things: hardship and perseverance. I haz both.

On so many levels, life is touuugh right now. I've been facing so many unknowns, lessons and changes that I'm quite literally being approached, from every angle, by a different challenge that I don't necessarily accept with open arms. Am I surprised? Not really. Life had been going pretty well; I suspected it was time for a little downhill after so much uphill. I hate hiking.

When life gets this way, I tend to go mostly numb (read: no blogs, no Facebook, no new creations) and that makes it even more difficult to cope... to persevere.

Bruce and I received orders to move to Japan. Am I excited? That's an understatement. I.am.ecstatic. And scared sh**less. For reals. This is the thing I've been dreaming of, another chance to travel. To show my boy the wonders of culture, nature, and life. If only it were that easy. I feel like I've been offered a silver platter of all my favorite foods, but to pick a morsel up and nibble on it, I have to maneuver my way through boobie traps and spiders. Because, there's nothing more scary than spiders in your food. Am I right or am I right?

Let's just say that as I'm reaching for an especially yummy looking piece of Japanese goodness, two spiders eyeball me. And, just like in Harry Potter, they talk. They threaten me with the two things I'm most afraid of: another custody battle and huge change. Recoiling is not an option. I'm fighting those very battles right now.

You know, I used to think I was pretty on top of my game. I thought I knew how to be married. I don't. I thought I was a pretty good communicator. I'm not. I thought I knew what the future holds. Clearly, I'm more ignorant. I thought I knew myself pretty well. Turns out I'm a heckofa lot more complicated. It's not a fun revelation, seeing yourself differently.

My list is a little longer than this blog has room for. But I keep reminding myself what Charlie Chaplin said, "Nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles." Things will change (I guess I should eventually get used to that idea if I ever want to be less stressed); people will change (including moi); things will get better. They will.

You remember that for yourself, too, k? K.

A Christmas Story

This year for Christmas, I created an advent calendar with activities rather than treats. Last night, our activity was to write a Christmas story, one line at a time. It turned out so clever and funny! Enjoy...


Once there were three little monkeys that lived on the highest, coldest mountain in the world. They had never heard of Christmas or stockings or fruit cake (let's not tell them about that last one in this story).


One day, when whey were sleeping, they heard a giant CRASH! When they woke up, they went into their living room and saw two reindeer hanging from a hole in the ceiling!


The reindeer called, "Help! Catch us, Santa!"


All the monkeys and reindeer looked around but Santa was nowhere to be found! So they grabbed their knives and scissors and helped the reindeer to the ground.


When the reindeer got down, they said, "We have to find Santa to deliver all the presents!"


The monkeys replied, "Who is Santa and why is he delivering presents?!"


"Caaaauuuuuuuuuse, he do." said the lead reindeer, Rudolf.


Monkey #3 turned to monkey #2 and said, "If it's true, that he do, then we must find him! Where's the first clue?"


So they clambered outside and looked on the roof- to their surprise they saw a sleigh! Inside it was a bagga-booty. Upon further investigation, Monkey #1 discovered a pair of pants lying on the ground; they were red, with white fuzzy ends and a black belt.


Just a little ways away from the pants, they found a matching red jacket and a big, jolly man running around in his tighty-whities! "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." was all he was saying.


It was obvious to the monkeys that something wasn't right with this man who was running in the night.


"Oy vey," the reindeer sighed. "We knew this day was coming. We should take him back to NP. But what about Christmas?!"


Monkey #1 was bored and tired. "I'm going home," he said.


"NO!" cried every reindeer. "You have to help us deliver the presents!"


"Deliver them yourselves."


"But we don't have opposable thumbs!" Every year we deliver presents to good boys and girls."

"What about the bad boys and girls?" The three monkeys asked, curiously.


"I don't know."


"Yes, you do, Blitzen!" Donner rolled his eyes. "They get coal."


"But coal is so expensive; we didn't bring any this year." Blitzen retorted.


So the monkeys agreed to help, on one condition: that they deal with the naught children. Off they flew on the magic sleigh- the reindeer leading the way to each house and sleeping child awaiting presents.


Suzie got her doll.


Johnny got his train set.


And all of the other, well-behaved children received their Christmas wish.


But as they traveled from city to city, the naughty children were left with something quite..... witty.


On Christmas Morning....


Sid sneaked out of his room and, after opening his sister's presents first, he found one small box labeled with his name. It had a unique aroma...


"Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!"

The End. 

Can you guess what all the naughty children got?! ;)

Hey, that's what a random blog is for!

Husband and I are planning on getting synchronized tattoos in the new year and OMG I'm skerd. I don't know why- maybe because it's something that's so permanent and I have such a fickle sense of body decor. Like, I've changed the image of my first tattoo at least four times.

I think God likes a challenge. The one who says, "Never."; the one who says, "I hate you."; the one who says, "Leave me alone." I think He likes proving those people wrong. Not in a pompous way, just in a I will love you, anyway way. And that all-consuming love just changes things.

When I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8, I found a $100 bill just lying around my house doing nothing. So I rolled it up and stuck it in my pocket to spend. I knew it was a lot of money, but didn't realize quite how much. Anyway, one day as we were entering a K-Mart, I saw a bell-ringer and my heart was moved to give something. That $100 went right in without a moment's hesitation. My parents didn't know about it until this year. Heh. I figure I was the reason for any extra blessing they got that year.

Am I the only one that suddenly gets a whole slew of good/cool/funny/witty things to tweet and then feels the need to space them just so? I think it's a clash of ADD and OCD. Hey, that's what a random blog is for!

You know, I have this theory: men who drive huge trucks and don't use them for a source of their livelihood or for a, outdoor recreation of their choice are compensating for something.

Flash mobs is the coolest idea mankind has ever had.

I have a handful of bad apples in my life (what's a handful for apples? Three? That sounds about right.) What I always need to remind myself of are the scads of good apples surrounding me. Sure, it's hard to ignore those bad ones... you can't pretend that rot isn't there; but knowing that they're easily outnumbered helps. My tree? Plum full of good apples.

I watched this documentary on Netflix, a while back, called The Human Experience. It follows two brothers, out seeking a different view on life. And it got me to thinking... And I said, "God, do something." "You do something." He said back. That didn't surprise me so much.

Sometimes I wish my animagus were a teenage girl so I could go to high school and tell off the a-hole boys, stand up for the underdogs and build up the teenage girls.

"You know when you fall asleep and you stop breathing? When you're married, there's always somebody there to nudge you back to life." -Ray Romano, Everybody Loves Raymond

I.freaking.love.peanut.brittle. It's like chewing on glass and my texture freak thanks me for indulging.

A little heart bleeding here: I KNOW I'm in the arms of God. I KNOW He is protecting me and making good plans for me. But, there are times when I can feel the enemy breathing down my neck and it's almost always enough to send me into panic. I don't know how to get past it.

BIG news will be posted soon. Stay stuned. (No, I'm not pregnant.)

Last weekend, I attended a photoraphy workshop held by one of our closest friends and most favorite photorapher, Charity Remington. It has been so long since I've messed around with my camera that I had forgotten so much. (A tragedy, I know). BUT! I'm back and excited as ever to hone this skill of mine! Here are a few of my best shots:

There's this man I know. He's my husband and he's everything I could have ever asked for. Let me give you a few of the countless reasons why I couldn't do life without him.


He loves Jesus. And it's the most important thing in our marriage. His love and passion for our God is what  keeps both of us centered, grounded and focused. He pursues a relationship with Jesus all on his own and encourages me in mine. I love being able to talk to him about what we believe and have someone to bounce ideas off of or confirm interpretations with; he's so full of knowledge and understanding.


He's a family man. Hanging out with the guys; going to games or hunting on the weekends; being completely independent from the rest of us isn't even on his radar. In fact, I usually have to convince him to find his Me Time. Why I love this? Because it means we'll always be center stage in his life- something not a lot of families are privileged to experience. 


He knows me. Not just knows me but continues to learn me- with effort. I have no problem admitting that I'm a complicated creature and don't even know myself, sometimes. This man has made it a pastime to learn me. He listens to what I say- even to the point that I don't remember what I've told him, but he does. This makes my heart patter beyond all explanation. 


He is a leader. Life will eventually present some big decisions that we'll need to make. I'll embrace those seasons of change and challenge because I know the desire that my husband has to lead our family. He doesn't do anything flippantly. I cannot even tell you the weight he puts on himself to lead and take care of our lives. It's a burden that I can actually see resting on his shoulders, at times. But, he does it with integrity, courage and strength. And I will always trust him with my life, my heart, because of him. And he doesn't just lead our family- one of the things I love most about him is how he is able to lead others, in love, and pour into those who need to follow.


He spoils and serves me. Within the last seven months, I have blossomed in ways that I wasn't able to, before. My creativity has flourished and it's because I feel safe and spoiled next to my husband. Basically, we bought our house and he gave it to me to make it a home. I know he would do anything for me- literally. It's hard to put this little point into words because his spoiling me goes beyond tangible gifts; his heart for me enables me to just relax and be myself. I'm able to enjoy us because he has made it so.


He accepts my boy as his own. Mal adores his step-dad. He follows him around the house; he asks for him constantly; he loves playing with him. This is because Bruce invests in him and he values discipline. My boy is turning out to be a great kid; I'm so proud of him. And I absolutely know that the reason Malachi will continue to become a great kid, a great teen and an amazing man is because of mine.

I could go on and on and on and.... you get the point. These are the areas that brighten my heart the most. I'm so beyond blessed; I'm so full of love; I'm so happy. And it's all because of this man who I call 'Husband' who loves me eternally.

Teenagers and Toddlers

I'm usually the kind of person who sees a lesson in every ray of light that illuminates a fleck of floating dust.... so, in everything, pretty much. Lately, our boys have been teaching me some lessons. Not intentionally, but they're obvious to me and I thought I'd share them with you.

Our 14 year old has taught me the importance of having passion. One of the prayers I pray for him is, "Lord, plant a seed of passion in James' heart. Help him discover what it is in life that makes his heart buzz with excitement." I cannot imagine going through life and not being passionate about anything. James, I think, is on the precipice of realizing his passion. And I think it will be key to him finding out who he is and where is place is in this life.

Our 12 year old, Andrew, has taught me the value of adapting. All of our boys have been through divorce. It suuucks. It hurts my heart knowing that their homes were broken the way mine was. Each one has done a freaking brilliant job at adapting to their dual lives. Sure, we have our moments of drama and the road is more bumpy than it is smooth. But, I see the hand of God on their hearts; I see His grace surrounding them, helping them adapt and I know that it will get better.

Our 3 year old has taught me to love each moment as if it's the last. Mal's visitation schedule kills me. You know this; I've vented about it multiple times. Seeing how he grows every day; how his brain absorbs every fact and bit of information I give him; remembering his baby days and his coos- they all make me miss the past and yearn for the future. But, this moment right here? When Mal is fighting monsters in the living room and declaring to me his favorite color? I cherish it because I know that it will be gone as soon as it arrives. <3

I couldn't have said it better, myself.

(Carolyn is an advice columnist for The Washington Post. Read this. I think those of you in my boat will appreciate it as much as I did. Go here to read her more recent columns.)

Carolyn:

Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc. Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What'd you do today? Her: Park, play group . . .Okay. I've done Internet searches, I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners . . . I do all those things, too, and I don't do them EVERY DAY. I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events) and I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy -- not a bad thing at all -- but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a peeing contest ("My life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.

Tacoma, Wash.

Relax and enjoy. You're funny.

Or you're lying about having friends with kids.

Or you're taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven't personally been in the same room with them.

I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.

So, since it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.

It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.

It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.

It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It's resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.

It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything -- language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.

It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you to mutual friends, or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand or keep your snit to yourself.