Deep, Free, Wild

May 11th.  That was when my last blog post happened.  I have so much I want to write but I'm unsure on if I can untangle the ball of yarn that is my thoughts.  Maybe, first, the good things.

I've been having a ton of fun lately.  Most of it is taking place in kitchens.  Not just mine either.

A few weeks ago I went to Wanda's house for a hair cut.  And we also did this:

You're looking at pulled pork nachos.  And that fork?  Just a prop.  We picked these babies up with our bare hands and bit into heaven.  The pork juice ran down our wrists towards our elbows and we grinned and bit deeper.  We made a beautiful and delicious mess together.  Wanda is some of my favorite people.

Another fun day was with the lovely Michelle.  I call her "the other Wanda".  She moved into my neighborhood a year and half ago and moved herself and her family right into my heart.  We took ourselves to the spa for a combined birthday celebration last month.

We each got a facial, massage, pedi, mani, and lunch.  Bernard's on Brighton.  Look it up.  Try it out.  You won't be sorry.

The massage bed was heated.  I'm pretty sure laying in there is what it feels like to be in the womb.  I felt warm and safe and protected.  I didn't want to leave.  But I did.  To walk down the hall to the facial room.

The facial lady (what is the proper terminology?  I have no idea.) was lovely as well even tho she felt the need to remark about my dry skin.

Facial Lady:  "What cleanser are you using?"

Me: "Uh, none."

Facial Lady:  dead silence

She slathered my face with a moisturizer laced with blueberry, cinnamon, and paprika.  I wanted to lick it.  While she was working she said something about how to take care of my skin.  I wasn't really listening.  Here's the naked truth:  I wasn't there for my skin health.  I was there because I love when people touch my face.  Just shut up and touch me.

Judge me however you will.

Next we had our mani/pedis.

This woman was so sweet.  And encouraging.  And interested in what I had to say.  And she loves Jesus.  And she rubbed my feet.  She has my heart forever.

Then it was lunch time.  I told Michelle how all day I felt like a bull in a china shop.  There is nothing dainty or quiet about me and here I was in this calm, quiet, luxurious spa.

And yet, no matter how out of place I felt, I would go back in a heartbeat.  But I would probably skip the mani this time.  Because 24 hours later, 9 out of 10 fingernails were chipped.  I use my hands always.

I did this wild and crazy thing a week ago called a Recipe Tasting. Here's what it boils down to:  my culinary genius is wasted on the people I live with and feed on a regular basis.  And my taste buds get bored.  So I chose 20 recipes that sounded delicious to me without any regard whatsoever to what my people like.  And then I invited 400 people to my house to taste the recipes with me.

No, that is not a typo.  I literally invited 400 people.  Mostly because I knew most of them wouldn't come but also because I subscribe wholeheartedly to the idea of Go Big or Go Home.  And also because I jump first and then think about it.  People kept asking me how I was going to do it.

"Mmm, I dont' know yet but it'll get done," was my standard response.  And it did.  And I only freaked out a little.  And I had a TON of crazy awesome help.  My dear bosses and some coworkers came early to help and stayed late to clean up.  To call them my bosses and coworkers feels wrong though.  These dear sweet human beings are my friends.  I love them to the ends of the earth and back again.

There were triumphs:

And there were dismal failures and messes.  Lots of messes.

It felt a lot like life.  How sometimes you have to make a mess and make mistakes and sometimes start completely over to get a beautiful end result.

But sometimes your hard work pays off and your finished product looks just like the picture.  It takes blood, sweat, and tears.  It takes help from your amazing friends.  You might be up late cooking and then up early cooking.  But in the end, it's worth it.  You watch all the cars flood up your driveway.  You see the little piles of people in your front yard.  You hear later, "Oh, I met so and so at your house."  You see a wild band of kids running crazy on the swing set.  You hug a ton of people and receive their compliments with a nod and smile.  You go to bed exhausted but with a smile that you just can't stop.

Recipe Tastings are hard work but they can turn out beautifully.

Life is hard work but it can turn out beautifully.

And then today.  My dear Crysti invited me for coffee this morning.  So I took some leftover stuffed pepper filling along and made us scrambled eggs.  Crysti sat at her island, per my instructions, and chatted with me while I used her stove, her pan, her spatula.  I dug thru her fridge and her cupboards.  And I thought, I think this makes Jesus happy.  I could feel his smile as I made myself at home in someone else's kitchen.

We talked, we laughed, we sipped, we chewed.  And our time together ended too quickly.

But I was privileged enough to get to make another mess, in another kitchen (this time my own), with someone else that I love.

My brother and I can rock the kitchen scene together.  I made shortcake while he, unwillingly, cleaned strawberries.  I made pasta with chorizo and broccoli rabe while he, willingly this time, made a salad with homemade dressing.  The ingredient list was extensive and one time he texted me the recipe which came thru to my phone in 13 messages.

13.

Nell sat at the island and chatted with us while we cooked.  Really, there is nothing I love more than sharing kitchen space with willing participants, whether they are spinning salads or spinning stories.

My cup runneth over today.

Which brings me to the not so good things.

I turned 33 two months ago.  Do you know what I always think when I hear of someone turning 33?  33 years was all the time Jesus got on earth.  If I was Jesus, this would be it.  If this was it for me, what kind of legacy would I leave?

I've been thinking about the fragility of life.  Which can be good and bad.  It makes you appreciate the small things.  The smell of honeysuckle.  The tight hugs from your babies.  The sound of your mom's laughter.  The mess you make in your kitchen with your friends late into the night.  The way you meet your husband's eyes across the room and know what he's thinking.

But sometimes the fragility of life feels crushing.  In the past several weeks I've visited my nephew in the hospital during his week long stay after his appendix burst.  My friend told me her mom's been diagnosed with cancer.  Someone else's baby needed open heart surgery.  I saw photos on Facebook of a little boy with cancer, robbed of his hair by chemo, curled up, trying to sleep thru the pain.  An older gentleman that I know fell and broke his neck.  I heard of a husband who died unexpectedly.

My family is whole and healthy.  And sometimes I find myself holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It's not a good place to be.  Sirens make me nervous in the afternoons when I know Larry is driving home.  Small bumps or lumps on my kids make my imagination kick into overdrive.  A strange feeling in my chest makes me wonder if my heart is working right.

All those bad things that happened to other people last month?  There is absolutely no reason why they couldn't happen to me.  It makes me want to shut down my heart and stop loving.  Loving people hurts.  That's the real and the raw of right now for me.

I am mostly having so much fun and at the same time I am aching with the heartache other people are facing.  And I am worrying about when it will be time for my heartache.  But maybe it will never be my time.  But there is no guarantee of that.

And the circle continues.  And I know that this is not how Jesus wants me to live.  He doesn't call me to hold my breath and wait for the other shoe to drop.

He calls me to abundant life.

The thief comes to steal and kill and destroy.

My peace.  My joy.  My trust.  Satan would take it all.

But Jesus.  He says, go make a mess in your kitchen.  Invite 400 people to come over.  Take leftovers to your friends.

Love deeply.  Give freely.  Trust wildly.

Let your cup run over.

I Didn't Know

I Didn't Know

I didn't know that you would eventually be my husband when you asked me to be your prom date 17 years ago.

My Aunt Sue made me a blue dress and I got my hair done and I felt like a princess.  It was a gorgeous evening and we went to prom in your Mustang.  I was definitely "in like" with you but I didn't know what love was.

I didn't know that we would date for four years before we got married.  Almost exactly four years after our very first date.

I shopped for a white dress and I got my hair done and my dad cried and I felt like a princess.  It was a gorgeous morning and we drove to our reception in a friend's Mustang.  I was definitely in love with you but I didn't know how that love would grow.

I didn't know that I would miscarry our first baby over our first anniversary.  Over Mother's day.

We went to the hospital and there was no heartbeat and I cried.  I don't remember what the weather was like.  But you were my rock.  I loved you for your stability.

I didn't know that we would go on to have four healthy babies in six years.

I expanded and shrank, expanded and shrank, expanded and shrank, expanded and shrank.  We spent a million dollars at wal-mart on diapers and wipes.  I did a million loads of adorable laundry.   You worked a million hours to support us.  I loved  you for your provision.

I didn't know that there would be days so hard, where I would feel so under appreciated, that I would think of leaving.  I didn't know that there would be days when you would come home from work, I would hand you the baby and say "I need to go for a walk".  I didn't know that I could be so tired or that I could cry so many tears.

I didn't know that there would come a time when one of our children would throw up on the couch and we would just decide to burn it because where do you even start?

I didn't know that two adults and a bunch of kids in the same bed on Saturday mornings is a great way to start the day.

I didn't know that camping in the rain is terribly fun if the kids are happy and loving it.

I didn't know that watching you play baseball with our boys could make my heart swell so much.

But now I do.  Now I know all these things and so many more.  

I know that sometimes you have to make a mess to get to something beautiful.

I know that sometimes I can get you to do things you don't really want to do.  And you're a good sport.

I know that as I've changed your love has remained constant.

The girl you asked out on that date 17 years ago would have never dreamed of getting a tattoo.  Today your wife has three of them.

The girl you asked out on that date 17 years ago thought she wanted 8 kids.  Today your wife has four of them.

The girl you asked out on that date 17 years ago never wanted to just hang out at home on a weekend.  Today your wife loves that.

The girl you asked out on that date 17 years ago liked things to be perfect and wanted everything to go her way.  Today your wife is still like that.  Some things never change.

This week we celebrate 13 years of marriage, 17 years of being each other's best friend.  You've made me laugh, you've made me cry, you've made me angry, you've made me fiercely proud.  Of you. Of our babies.  Of this life we've got going on.  

There are still things I don't know.  Like what the next 17 years hold.  But I'm ready to learn.

Always and Forever.

On Coffee, Color, and Adoption

On Coffee, Color, and Adoption

I've been known to say that I don't like people.  I'm not a people person.  I'm an introvert.  But do you wanna know a little secret?  There are some people that I really like.  Like really like.  And it's not just some.   There are quite a few people who I would love to have coffee with at least once a month.  So many, in fact, that if I had a coffee date every day of the month I wouldn't have enough days.  If I've chosen you as a friend then know this:  I love you deeply.  I don't know how to do things half way.  It's All or Nothing.

A few weeks ago I had coffee with Wanda.  Wanda is the kind of people I love to have over.  I needed to make 40 pies that day (Don't ask.  I do crazy things) so Wanda came and sat at my island and chatted with me while I measured, stirred, and pinched pie crusts.

She brought her babies and some blank paper.  Because she was menu planning.  We know how to socialize and get things done at the same time.  So we chatted and baked and kept little boys alive.  We talked in circles, one topic blending into the next until we came back around to the first one.  She looked thru my recipe book, snapping pictures of things that sounded good and adding them to her menu plan.  I was the recipient of one of her newest necklace designs.

Wanda makes fantastic jewelry.  Most of it has words on it.  Jewelry and words are at the top of my list titled "Things I Love".  Ok, I don't actually have a list like that but if I did that last sentence would be totally true.

The last photo.  LOVE.  I'm not buying any clothes/accessories for myself this year but if someone wanted to get me a present...blue *cough cough* or yellow *cough cough*.

I'm rocking a Pearls N Joy creation right now as I blog.

You can't see the words but the circle says "Be still and know".  It's something that I'm struggling with right now.  Not the knowing part.  But the being still.  Just typing those words though causes my breathing to deepen and slow.  I am drawn by the idea of being still.  

But back to pies and menu planning and rambunctious boys.  Wanda asked me if I would be interested in blogging to promote something called Build the Nest.  In order to explain this best I need to back up a bit.

Wanda and her husband Matt are the proud and delighted parents of six adorable children.  Who all have beautifully different skin tones.  The six Graham kids have all joined Matt and Wanda's family the same way; by adoption.

This photo.  I just can't even.  They are the most gorgeous family.

Anyway, they are part of this organization called The Sparrow Fund.  What it boils down to is this:  The Sparrow Fund is there for adoptive families.   They provide training opportunities as well as grants for adoptive families in financial need.  Every May The Sparrow Fund does a fund raiser, their only fundraiser, called Build the Nest.  What happens is businesses commit to donating 10% of their sales for the month of May to The Sparrow Fund.  So you can spend some dollars, get some cool things, and know that you are helping to make a difference in the lives of children who are waiting for a forever family.

Wanda's Etsy shop is one of the businesses committed to Build the Nest.  So if you like what you saw above visit her site at https://www.etsy.com/shop/pearlsnjoy

As I was perusing the other Etsy shops that are linked up with Build the Nest, I came across one called 4 One More.  

Oh.My.Goodness.

While I was on a walk this week I came to a realization.  I have a thing for color.  Maybe more than a thing.  Like a wild, deep, passionate connection.  There were red tulips, yellow daffodils, green grass.  Flowering white pear trees, red Japanese maples, purple dogwoods.  Puffy white clouds, blue sky, brown plowed earth.  I wanted to fling my arms wide and spin in circles until I was so dizzy I fell down.  And then, in someones driveway, I saw it.  An old pick-up truck.  It was the coolest shade of teal.  I totally would have driven it even though it was a Chevy.

This etsy site, https://www.etsy.com/shop/4onemore, gave me the same feeling.  So much color.  So many repurposed things.  I love to see the old, the broken, the worn out given new life.  Isn't that what Jesus does?  Some days I feel destined for the junk heap.  The burn pile.  The landfill.  My heart feels old, broken, worn out.  My thoughts, my words, my actions betray the fact that I am, indeed, a sinner.

But I'm a sinner saved by grace.

And as long as I have breath in my lungs and a beating heart in my chest it means one thing.  Jesus still has a purpose for me.  He offers me new life.  His mercies are new every morning.

Here's the thing.  Jesus doesn't offer these things, this love, this grace, because I was born into his family.  Nope.  I've been adopted. 

 "...the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.  And by him we cry "Abba, Father."  Romans 8:15b

God decided I was worth the risk.  He knew I'd do things that would break his heart.  He knew there would be times I would question his methods.  He knew there could even come a time that I would turn my back on him.  But he brought me into his family anyway.

I have a lot of friends who are adoptive parents.  I have very dear and precious family members who are related to me because of adoption.  And after listening to their stories I think it's fair to say, adoption is not all sunshine and roses.  It's tough.  It's painful.  It's heartbreaking.

There can be piles of paperwork.  Many miles driven to and from court hearings.  Hours given to meeting with social workers.  But I think they would all say the same thing.

It's worth the risk.  It's worth the effort.  It's worth the blood, the sweat, the tears.

There's a blogger I read, Momastery, who uses the word "brutiful".

Brutal + Beautiful.

I think that might be an accurate word to describe adoption.

If you are stirred by adoption, would you consider supporting The Sparrow Fund?  Do some shopping with Build the Nest?  You won't regret it.  I promise.

Discipline

Discipline

I've never been good at it.

I love the idea of a schedule.  But I am not good at following one.  

I love the idea of an exercise plan.  But I am not good at following one.

I love the idea of a menu plan.  But I am not good at following one.

I love the idea of a devotional plan.  But I am not good at following one.

Maybe it's because I am a rule breaking justifier.  I don't even like following my own rules.

Maybe it's because I am an All or Nothing girl.  When I get off track, even a little, I revert to Nothing.

I've been in a Nothing phase.  No healthy eating.  No exercise.  Very little time in the Word.

But my body and my pants and my soul are telling me it's time for some All.

So last night I made a plan.  You see, I was supposed to go on a field trip with Son #2 today.  Which meant leaving the house at 8:10.  And so I made a schedule for my morning which made time for devotions, exercise, a healthy breakfast, and time to pack a healthy lunch.

But everything changed when Jessie woke me up shortly before midnight saying "Jake threw up all over my floor."

"@#$%(&," was my first thought.  (That 6 letter word rhymes with 'bammit')

I'll spare you the details because gross.   Let's just  say, we had a rough night.

So instead of being on a field trip, I am at home.  My plan went nothing like I had hoped.

And yet I'm grateful.  God knew I'd be spending this day at home even when I didn't.  He knew I needed a day at home.  It's not what I wanted but it's what I needed.  

Funny how those things are sometimes different.

I could choose to cry and complain and be sad.  And I'm not gonna lie, I did those 3 things.

But now I'm looking past that.  Being home means I can catch up on my pile of laundry.  Being home means I can catch up on this pile of paper work.

Being home means I had plenty of time to make myself a healthy yummy breakfast.

Being home means I have time to cuddle with Jake.  Altho currently he won't let me sit beside him.

My plans didn't work out for today.  I'm choosing to be ok with that.

*Ask me later if I exercised and spent time in the Word.  It's a good day to work on discipline.

Mess

Mess

Last week I was showing a video of Jake dancing to one of my dear friends.  I thought she was watching my son but apparently she was also checking out the background.  "I love seeing your house messy!" she said when the video was over.

It was.  There was laundry all over my red chair and the table was covered in pies and pie boxes.  You could see my computer desk and it had papers scattered about.

I am, by nature, a tidy person.  I don't do clutter very well.  I like things organized.  It comes naturally to me.  But life happens and my house gets messy. 

Last Friday took the cake.  I have never left my house in such a state as I did Friday morning.  Here is the photo evidence.

And the crowning glory: 

Oh my goodness.  I did this, took photos, and then walked out the door.  Here's the really fun part.  I was going to work and my mom was coming to my house at 12:00 for when the kids got off the bus. So I warned her.  "Mom, you are going to see my house like you've never seen it before.  And also, can you take the dry laundry out of the dryer, throw it on my red chair and put the wet laundry in the dryer?"

That's all I asked her to do.

But when I got home my laundry was folded, the dishes were put away, the pillows and blankets were back on the couch, the kitchen floor was swept, the countertops were cleared and there was not a trace of broken plate or butter splatter anywhere.

My mom is awesome.

Someday I hope I can pay it forward and clean butter and broken pottery off my little girl's floor.

What's the most thoughtful thing someone has done for you lately?

Grace

Grace

This morning I read Ephesians 2:1-10.  And it prompted the following thoughts.  I'm sharing here, word for word, what I wrote in my journal this morning. 

The word "grace" draws me.  Maybe because I feel anything but graceful.   My mind automatically goes to dancers.  How they move fluidly with the music.  How clumsy I feel when I try to dance.  How I yearn to move freely in rhythm and grace.

But the idea of gracefulness extends beyond movement.  There are some people who are just so gracious.  Joyce Weaver and Crysti Landis come to mind right away.  Always welcoming, always with a kind word.  But as I write that I know it's not totally true.  Both those women would tell me that they have times of ungraciousness.  I just happen to not see that.

I looked up the word "grace" in the dictionary and it leaves me wanting.  "Unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification."

This is the "religious" meaning of grace.  The combination of those words leaves me feeling cold and dead.  Just like religion.

I'm watching the sunrise as I write this.  The trees with tiny buds are silhouetted against a sky that has gone from black to deep blue to a tinge of yellow, to a combination of tangerine, dusty rose, purple.  It makes my lips turn up in a smile.  It makes my heart feel light.  It makes me feel alive.

Just like grace.

God's grace.

I see grace in the sunrise.  How God can take a life that is as black as night and transform it into a breath-taking masterpiece of light and color.  How something that once seemed dead and hopeless can dawn into something vividly alive and inspiring.

I am undone.

Jesus, do this in me.

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My, the Moon is Bright Tonight

One person in this house has been awake since 2:00am.  Another person has been awake since 2:30am.  And yet another person has been awake since 3:30am.  Ok, the last one is Larry and he doesn't really count because he always gets up that early.  I don't know how he does it.  Much respect to him!

I'm the one who has been awake since 2:00.  I woke up because I had to pee.  Nothing new there.  It's happened almost every night of my life.  When I was younger I remember waking up to go to the bathroom but being afraid to get out of bed because I was sure there was a witch under the bed who would grab my ankles.  Sidenote:  I'm no longer afraid of that.

Anyway, I couldn't fall back asleep and there is nothing I loathe more than lying in bed awake.  So I got up.

I read a few more chapters of this book:

I drank too much some coffee.

I ate ham and dill quiche with a side of roasted asparagus.

I tried something new with my hair.

Ok, I am well aware that it's just two braids and you can barely even see the one in this photo.  But this is a Big Deal for me.  I can put together a fun outfit and awesome jewelery but I am terrible at really girly things like hair, nails, and makeup.  I lay the blame solely at the feet of my mother.  It's her fault that I didn't learn those things.  (She'll say you have to have an interested student to teach.  Whatevs.)  That's why you'll see me with my toenails painted (but probably smudged) and maybe mascara.  Eye shadow too if I'm feeling particularly girly.  And if my hair looks good?  Happy accident.

I watched Netflix.  I won't tell you what or how many episodes.

I read my Bible and journaled.  Nehemiah 2:1b-2.  It gave me some ideas for my two speaking engagements next week.

I HAVE TWO SPEAKING ENGAGEMENTS NEXT WEEK!!  WHO IN THE WORLD AM I??

I went upstairs to make my bed and get dressed for the day.  And I heard a little voice say "Mom?".  It was Kye, the child who never sleeps.  He told me he'd been awake since 2:30.  It was now 5:00.  I asked him what he had been doing.  Turns out he had read for a little while and then just looked out the window.  "Mom, it's full moon.  The front yard was so bright.  It's really beautiful."

Firstly, I'm thrilled that I'm raising a son who notices beauty.  I hope he always talks about things he finds beautiful.  Secondly, I had noticed the moon too.  I've long been drawn by the beauty of the night sky.  "The heavens declare the glory of God..." and all that jazz. And I've long suspected that the moon and it's cycles affect my moods and behaviors.  I've never bothered documenting anything but I bet there's an app for that.

With Kye and I both being awake super early, I had a new suspicion about the moon.  And so I googled "Does the full moon effect sleep patterns" and I read some really interesting articles.  Turns out the findings are inconclusive.  But it seems possible that the moon can affect sleep patterns.  People who participated in the sleep studies had greater difficulty falling asleep and remaining asleep during full moon.  Women seemed to be effected more than men.  On average, people slept 20 minutes less during full moon.  

20 minutes less.

Not 4 hours less.

Hmmm.

Now I'm sitting in full daylight, having seen the beauty of the full moon and the breath-taking sunrise.  Maybe the full moon had something to do with my lack of sleep.  Or maybe Jesus wanted me to see two different kinds of beauty.  Or maybe He was making sure I had time to spend with him.

I told him last night how I miss him.  It's not his fault, it's mine.  I was on vacation and then I got sick.  I used them both as an excuse to not get up early.  As a result of not getting up early I've had no time alone.  And as a result of having no time alone I've spent little to no time in the Word.  

Tomorrow is Good Friday.

The day my Jesus, whom I claim to love, faced horrific pain, humiliation, and mockery.  

The day my Jesus bled out and died.  

In my place.

I am deeply ashamed of how little thought I've given to Easter.  I've got excuses but they are just that.  Excuses.

My heart has been unmoved.  But I want to be undone.  To feel in all the deep places.  To stand in utter and complete awe of what Jesus did because of love.

Today I'm asking for Jesus to remove my heart of stone and replace it with a heart of flesh.

Today I want to "stand with arms high and heart abandoned.  In awe of the One who gave it all."

Will you join me?