write what you know

I've been blogging for a long time. A little over ten years actually. In that time, I've gone from being an angsty teen, pouring out her emotions all over the interwebz, to entering a mommy-blogger-wannabe phase in which I really struggled with marketing myself and attempting to monetize my blog and profit off of it, and now finally landing in this strange area where I am so much a mother and so deep in my own mire that I have often wondered if there is any point in trying to keep this thing going.

You may have gathered this by now, but I am struggling with the value and purpose of my own story.

It feels like everyone else, it seems like I have nothing new to contribute to the conversation, and I remain unconvinced that I need to add to the virtual noise that is currently streaming around us.

Unfortunately for me (and maybe you, if you're stuck reading this), I have never, ever, ever, throughout my entire life, been able to turn off the word faucet. I've tried many times, and I've gotten it to dry up to a trickle, but it remains steadfastly flowing and moving, whether I want it to or not. Which always leaves me here, in a quiet room with fingers tapping and a brain trying to translate all the electrical pulses flowing through it into coherent words and sentences, like:

Inadequacy
-This is a supreme emotion, one that tears through my body with free reign, wreaking havoc and chaos wherever it goes. It tells me that I am not enough, have never been enough, and will not ever be enough. It declares, loudly and triumphantly, "You lose, you fail, you fall short, you are worthless for even trying, so just give up already." It attacks at all angles, leaving no area of my life untouched, and no accomplishment unblemished. It has tormented me for as long as I can remember, and even though I feel like I have gotten much stronger at battling it, there are still seasons where it just seems to be lurking around every corner.

Selfishness
-This sneaky bugger whispers that only truly selfish women believe that they should have a purpose outside of motherhood (which, interestingly enough, means that it co-mingles with pride) and for me to take time away from my family, or even feel like I deserve time away, means that I am filled with the utmost of selfish longings and am once again, inadequate in so many areas.

Disappointment
Ah, the sting of an unfulfilled dream and a life left un-lived. Blessed as I am, there are too many moments (selfishness) where I find myself wondering what it is that I'm doing and why. This is often followed by long diatribes in which I moan about how I'm too young to be married and have two children, and mourn the loss of the life I could have had, had I made a different choice: (insert life choice here)

And so there you have it.
The ugly, rambling impulses of my brain that is chronically sleep-deprived, ridiculously overworked, and probably under-nourished. Heaven knows why I'm even putting this out there, but I think it's because I just can't let the toxicity of it all keep building up in my brain and the internet seems as good a place as any to dump your baggage.

Voila, interwebz. The drama continues.

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cliff jumping

How do you write about something when you're not sure just how much you ought to say?

In the past, I have often erred on the side of sharing too much.
In recent months, and kind of years, I have tended to close up and shut down until the situation has been over, or nearly over, and I felt like I could write about it without offending someone or disclosing too many details.

The problems come in when I realize that I need an outlet to spit words into, to see them on a screen, and process through them, often with the help and advice from others. How can I process something that's not there, that can't be there, because to put it up there would be to risk hurting someone else involved in the situation?

The eternal dilemma of this internet age.

How about I go with this:
My little family has just taken a giant leap off of a figurative cliff and we are now free-falling and waiting to see what kind of parachutes God holds out.
We are scared (obviously, since we are falling), but we are also excited about the possibilities that arise from not having any definite plans, or even ideas of definite plans. We are absolutely and completely traveling the way the Lord directs and this is both terrifying and liberating. I'm not sure that we have ever taken a jump like this without even one small safety net in place, which is probably why we are feeling the height of all our emotions so strongly.

For all who have been praying for us: an eternal and everlasting thank you. Your sweet friendship and words of encouragement have gotten us through the day-by-day and we are so glad to have you to rely on.
Please keep praying. God hears, and it is comforting to know that we are not the only ones pleading for our welfare right now.

For others worried, we are not in any physical danger or anything. (Well, at least not yet. Two car accidents in three weeks worked to change that, but hallelujah for seat belts and sturdy car seats).

And above all, there is this:

Jesus is God, and He owns us.

That's all there is, and all there needs to be.

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may 4

"It is easy to die for Christ.

It is harder to live for him.

 

Dying takes only an hour or two,

but to live for Christ means to die daily.

Only during the few years of this life are we given the privilege of serving each other and Christ...

 

We shall have heaven forever, but only a short time for service here, and therefore we must not waste the opportunity."

-Sadhu Sundar Singh

 

 

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may 3

things that are gross:

-bare, dirty feet.
-eggs. and chicken. (while pregnant).
-old ladies that dress like skanks.
-skin that has been tanned so much it looks like leather.
-my toenails.
-the smell when you open the garbage can.
-fast food. (the chemicals. sick.)
-staying inside when it's sunny and warm out.
-any sort of bait-and-switch.
-drivers on the freeway during rush hour.
-warm, soggy cereal.
-gluten-free food that tastes like sawdust.
-my acne surfacing because of pregnancy and poor food choices.
-throwing up after looking at:
-lunchmeat
-the first thirteen weeks of pregnancy.

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may 2

I almost forgot today. Wouldn't that be typical. Failing on day 2. Ah well. I'm here.

I'm supposed to talk to you about something I'm good at or have a lot of knowledge about.
I don't even know what to pick. There are things that I'm good at that I feel like no one really needs an instruction manual on, or anything like that so writing out thoughts about it would be kind of redundant.

Let's talk about reading, because I'm staring at a book that I'm halfway through and currently contemplating just how on earth I'm going to get through the rest of it.
For as long as I can remember, books have been one of my great loves.
I know that everyone says this, but it's actually true for me. My parents went through a phase where they were worried about how social I was going to be, since I preferred to hang out inside and read a book rather than talk to people. Taking a book away became a very effective punishment.
Oh, and once, I had an $80 library fine. That's how much I love books.

As I've become an adult (and more specifically, a mother), I don't have as much time to just read as I used to. This has led to me paring down my selections pretty harshly, and I do something that I never used to do--stop reading a book halfway through and give it back if it's just not doing it for me. I used to have this strict, "Finish everything you start" rule, but I don't have that luxury anymore and if I'm not in it by the third chapter, I'm giving it up. It kind of makes me sad to have to be so harsh sometimes, but there you go.

I'll read anything if it peaks my interests, and I think it's one of the best ways to become well-informed about the world and the things in it. When I was a kid, I used to just browse the shelves at the library by sections, until I found a topic that sounded interesting, and then I'd check out a bunch of books about it. I'll still do that sometimes now, just to see what I find.

Anyway. That's enough.
This has been like pulling teeth to write, but I did it, so score one for discipline.

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May 1

Born a chubby little girl around Christmas time in 1988. Spent the first 18 years of my life  living in Salt Lake City, Utah, surrounded by mountains I didn't appreciate until I left and so many family members that we always had food bursting out of houses during our holidays.

In third grade, Mom decided to try something called "homeschooling". I just knew that it meant I got to stay home and learn about what I wanted, instead of sitting in a classroom and being bored for half of the day. My education consisted of strange things like running around the house to figure out how quickly the Earth, Mars, and Pluto revolved around the sun, preparing and hosting a medieval feast, complete with faux pig's head, and dissecting a worm on the kitchen counter.

I left for college at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago when I was barely 18. It was January, and we took a 40-hour train ride to get there. I met my husband within two weeks of arriving, and got engaged five months after that. We got married ten months later and moved into the tiniest apartment you ever did see, in the ghetto-est of neighborhoods. Some of my best memories involve that little studio.

Two years later, we moved to England, I gave birth to our first child, and 2 1/2 years after that, we moved back to Utah and found out that we're going to have a second child sooner than expected.
And that is that.

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wake-up call.

My lovely, wonderful, adorable, sunshine-of-my-life son decided to wake up sometime in the 3 o'clock hour and harass me until I got out of bed with him at 5:15 this morning.

Awesome.

So I am tired and kind of cranky, but trying to convince myself that my coconut milk creamer isn't spoiled, and it just looks like that in my coffee cup because it wants to be different this morning. Right? Right.

I've been quiet on here for awhile. I'm not sure when I'll pick it back up regularly. We've got a lot going on, and choosing to sit and write a blog post is usually way down on my list of priorities. Maybe after we move, I can pick it back up.

Because, oh yeah, I've got a few announcements:

We are moving back to America!

This move has been in the works for awhile, but we only felt like we could announce it recently, since it looks like Hubs green card process is going to wrap itself up smoothly. 

Our plane tickets are bought and our final interview at the embassy is in a little less than a month.

I am slightly terrified that everything will go wrong and I will forget all the paperwork or something disastrous will happen, but barring all of that, I think Hubs should be approved fairly easily and then we've got a green light to get life started in the Land of the Free. 

*laughing*

We eat like cavemen now!

This is probably not as cool of an "announcement", but I've had a few people that have been interested in all of this whole30 business that I've been talking about for the past few weeks, so I figured I might as well mention it. 

Hubs is on Day 25 of his whole30, and I am on Day 19. So far it's going really well, and we are starting to reap the benefits that are talked about in the book. I'm not sure how much weight I've lost, but I know that I'm at least a few inches slimmer (I had to tighten my belt by an extra hole, and my jeans are loooose) and I'm finally getting rid of that small spare tire that Jameson left me with after he was born. My digestive issues have stopped since Day 1, and I am excited to get to the reintroduction part and figure out exactly which foods were causing me problems. I know gluten was one of the major culprits, but I'll be interested to see if I'm sensitive to all the grains as well.

Anyway, if you've got any questions, feel free to ask.

Depending on how confident I can get, I might post before an after pictures, if you guys promise not to laugh and love me no matter what. Might. As in maybe.

Aaaaand. That's it so far. I am pumped for Christmas this year. I've got 25 Days of Christmas planned out to do with Jameson, and I cannot wait for December 1, so that we can get started. We'll be in England for the holiday season this year, since we will be moving back to the States shortly afterwards, so I am trying to combat my homesickness with an extra dose of holiday cheer. 

Thanksgiving is going to be low-key since I'll be working (I guess that's another "announcement"--I got a part-time holiday job at LUSH and am really loving it. I'm hoping to transfer to a store in America when we move home, because now that these amazing products are in my life, I don't know how I'm going to a)live without them, or b)pay full-price!)

p.s. To those 50 people that still read this blog, thanks for sticking around. I do feel bad about the lack of posts lately, but for the sake of my anxiety and my family, I am taking a step back until I feel slightly more in-control of my life. I appreciate the patience/encouragement/general awesomeness of you all.

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motivation.

From the Catholic Memorial at Dachau Concentration Camp in Munich, Germany.

Sometimes I seem so up-and-down with this thing, I feel like a hormonal teenager that bursts into tears for no reason all over again.

One day, I'm ready to kick it all into high-gear, market myself like crazy, and enter the rat race of mommy-bloggers writing to make money.

The next, I'm struck with an overwhelming feeling of "Maybe this is all narcissism wrapped up in pretty packages" and questioning what my motivation should be for this platform that I've given myself.

Oddly enough, this is the first time this questioning isn't borne out of, "Maybe I'm just not good enough, maybe no one will care about what I have to say," which is a good thing, I think. That line of pondering is so self-centered, so focused on what other people think about me and that shouldn't be the point of anything.

Really, it comes more out of examining what I want my life to be about, and how is the most valuable way to spend my time? Sadly, I only have twenty-four hours in a day and even though I have enough things that I want to do that would fill up thirty-six of them, I simply cannot get it all done. I just can't. I've tried, and this has led to my mental defeat and breakdown in the form of tears, binge eating, and twenty 'to-do' lists scattered all around my house. 

What do I want my life to be about? 

--Loving the Lord with everything inside of me.

What does that look like?

--Being intentional with my time and my energy. Investing in things that are going to bring glory to Him, not to myself.

And that is the crux--I want my life to be about Him. 

I want the words that I write to reflect His power and glory, to bring people closer to Him, not to get people to marvel at the words that He's given me.

This desire has been lost for a long time. 

It's been buried under piles of sadness, depression, anger, longing, exhaustion, and hopelessness. 

The last two years have been the hardest of my life, hands-down. 

The last six months have been even harder. 

I have come thisclose to giving up on God completely, to throwing in the towel, and telling Him to leave me alone because I'll make my own way from now on, thank You very much.

Somehow (I am not sure how), I have found myself in a place of surrender to Him. 

Finally.

I am beginning to rest in the fact that He is in control, and the only place I am going to find fulfillment and joy is in Him.

Finally.

I am claiming the words of my favorite hymn, and asking the Lord to "bind my wandering heart to Thee".

Finally. 

I will write, because I need to write, because I was created to write, and because not writing would be ignoring a gift and passion that God has put inside me.

I will write the truth, and I will tell you about my life and sometimes I will show you what I wore, but the point of it all is different now.

It has to be. 

 ^"Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

{Romans 7:24-25}

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currents. [August]

evidence of how much I miss Mr. Potter.

Reading: Since it's that time of year, I've started the Harry Potter books again. I just love them way too much to not read them more than once, and really, I miss Hogwarts. Each time around I notice something new, and I am continually in awe of J.K. Rowling's writing and how well she communicates with her audience. 
I've also just started "The Scorpio Races" by Maggie Stiefvater. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but it's gotten a lot of good reviews, so here's hoping. I finished a trilogy that she wrote not too long ago, and although I wasn't blown away, there was promise there, so...I'll keep you posted.

Watching: My usual brain candy, although Hubs got the documentary channels for me, so I've been watching some educational tv. Ha. We're working our way through season 3 of 'Modern Family', and I've decided it's got to be one of my favorite shows ever. The writing is simply brilliant, and the characters are hilarious. Seriously. I watch it any time I'm in a bad mood, and it always makes me smile.

Listening: I recently discovered Ben Howard, and have been obsessed ever since. I love, love, love his album and his voice.
Also, Taylor Swift's new song has been stuck in my head, much to Hubs despair. I'll admit, it's not her best work, but it's catchy and I love her anyway. 
And, of course, there's always "Row, Row, Row, Your Boat" and "Wind the Bobbin". 

Eating: Oh, gluten. The bane of my existence. I'm sure I've talked about it a little bit before, but I've really got to get back on the gluten-free bandwagon. My problem is just how expensive it is to buy "freefrom" groceries, and the time that goes into figuring out GF meals to make. Not to mention that all of my favorite foods happen to be made out of bread and flour, and I have little to no willpower when it comes to pancakes. But really. I've got to stop. I've got headaches every day, stomach pain, and major anxiety/depression issues that need to calm themselves and I am 99% sure that the cause of it all is the dreaded gluten. Dang it.

Thinking: About home and how much I life in America. Also about how I am kind of excited for fall, but I won't let myself look forward to it, because I feel like I got gypped out of a summer here. 
About politics and how my views have changed in immense ways ever since I moved out of the country and started living life outside of the States.
And about how wonderful it was to see familiar faces over the last few weeks, how it reminded me of the life I used to live, and the person I used to be, and the possibility that she's still in there somewhere.
It's hope, and I miss that.

Alright, folks, give me your currents as well.

Stick your posts in the link-up below so that we can get some suggestions/ideas for things to read/watch/listen/think for the next month!

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the background [pt. 1]

I have long wondered/struggled with just how honest to be on this tiny little space.
--just how much should I tell people about the dirty laundry I've got stashed away in my brain?

I'm sure this is something that other bloggers worry about and deal with as well. It seems that everyone comes to a slightly different conclusion, and I completely understand.
--if you can't be comfortable sharing something with (potentially) the whole world, then it's probably better to keep quiet and stay safe.

For me, blogging started way back when I was fifteen, when it was something that no one had really heard of, and when you mentioned it to your parents generation, they said, "What? Is that even a word?"

It was a space that I could carve out for myself, somewhere to assert who I was and who I was becoming--to type words and immediately see them in print, to roll them around in my mouth and taste them on my tongue and decide whether or not I really wanted to spit them out, or if it was better to keep them inside for a while longer.

After that it grew and molded itself into something a little different, a little more social, and a little more honest. It became a place to write, and to practice writing, but to also connect with people in a way that conversations and glances sometimes didn't allow for. I could be honest here in a way that I could never be honest with someone I'd just met, and I liked that.

Eventually "blogging" grew to become this huge thing that everyone did, and I kind of held back in my own little corner for awhile. I didn't want the competition to change me, or to change my writing, or to change my motivation to keep writing. I've always struggled with keeping up and fitting in, and the last thing I wanted to do was take my corner of honesty and have it turn into a race to be "the best".

And so now I sit in this tension between staying honest and open, but also molding this into a business and (possibly) making some profit from it. And with all of that comes the realization that there are a lot of gaps in the story and a lot of holes in the honesty cloth I've been weaving, simply because it's just been me for so long. I didn't have to explain, because I was the only one here, and I already knew the backstory.

But now, there are you guys (we've jumped from 12 to 43 and I am SO EXCITED) and I'm sure that a lot of you are wondering what I'm talking about half the time.

So. I'm going to fill some gaps in.

I'm not going to give you the entire life story, but I'm going to talk about the important parts, the hard parts, the parts that people don't like talking about.

I'm doing this for a variety of reasons, but mostly because of the responses I get when I am gut-wrenchingly honest-- the "I completely know what you're talking about" and the "I'm so glad someone else can relate" responses. These are what make me keep writing, and these are the ones that I am writing for.

Because everyone just wants to not be alone--to be weird and different with someone else weird and different right by their side.

--pt. 2
--pt. 3
--pt. 4
--pt. 5

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sloooow down.

Friday's post got a lot of responses from people, and I am kind of surprised, but also blessed.

It also made me realize that eventually I should probably tell my story a little bit more, so people don't think I'm just a raving lunatic that puts everything out there for the internet to judge.

Hopefully I can get to that later this week, as long as Jameson is feeling better. I'm coming into this week majorly behind, since he came down with a throat infection on Saturday morning, and has been pretty sad ever since.

Thankfully, he's on antibiotics now (which I am not the biggest fan of, but in this case, they are like manna from heaven) and seems to be perking up a little. So, hopefully I can catch up on life sometime soon.

As always, here are pictures to compensate. :)

swimming for England.

such a boy.

he tries to eat the water that splashes him.

"cake, mom. cake."

"really? you're going to take a picture now, dad?"

"enough. I have business to attend to."

the ogre walk of champions.

------------------------------

Hubs has said that he wants will allow himself to be featured on this little piece of the internet, so if you've got questions/ideas for him, leave them in the comments and I'll see to it that he gets them. 

Pretty soon we'll have our very first guest post. 

Dang. I'm really on the up-and-up, aren't I?

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mom-wear-wednesday [4]

Dress: Old Navy// Shoes: Primark//
Headband: Rissy Roo's// Earrings: Gift from sister

Wow. Four weeks in a row.
I'm going to be honest and say that I can't believe I've lasted that long. (Or that you guys have been that interested.)
But maybe what I should really be surprised at is that so many people are so interested in what I look like when I walk out of the house. Are you all sure you want to be getting fashion advice from me?

Eh, whatevs. It makes me feel a little bit better about my wardrobe. Ha.

Anyway...I threw this on because it was sunny outside and the phone said that it was 71 degrees. The dress is old (like, at least four years old) because I wore it on my honeymoon, but I like the color and I like the way it makes my shoulders look. (Is that too honest?)

Clearly you have all seen the sandals before, but can I just say that for the £3 I spent on them at Primark, they have been a dream? Honestly, I walked around London for nearly seven hours on Saturday, and my feet were fine. So weird, but so wonderful.

Let's talk about the hair pictures for a minute. Is this something you all even want to see? I kind of feel like I've got to keep coming up with new hairstyles to put on here, since I've given away the hair donut secret and I should really do something different at least for the one time a week I'm photographing myself, right? But also, that means there's kind of pressure on me to figure something new out...like I need to go start a new board on Pinterest or something and actually attempt some of the hair tutorials on there. So, input needed. I am NOT a hairstylist and sometimes I'm all thumbs when it comes to taming this mane, but I like to try new things once in a while...I guess what I'm saying is, I'll be the hair guinea pig if that's what you all are looking for.

Also, note my cute little rosette headband. I finally got to jump on that bandwagon after I won a giveaway at Much Love, Illy and I am so excited about it. I got two headbands and two pairs of earrings from the lovely Larissa at Rissy Roo's and I am stoked. I love accessories, and I love free accessories, so this was everything I had ever dreamed of. Plus, I actually won a blog giveaway...which I am still kind of amazed about, because I didn't think that could actually happen.

So do you want to know the sad secret about this outfit?
After I took these pictures, I realized that I was going to be carrying Jameson around on my back for awhile, and that the baby carrier would not look great with this dress...so I changed into leggings and a tank top.
Dang. I know.
I should have taken pictures so you all could see the real "mom-wear-wednesday" that was happening (because it was definitely mom-wear, and it was definitely happening).
I promise I was not trying to "fashionista" you here, it just so happened that without Hubs around to tote my child, this dress was not mom-approved for my outing.

Next week I promise to actually take a picture on my way out the door (maybe with Jameson strapped to my back) so you can see EXACTLY what I am wearing. Sound good?

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scribbles and dots.

Out of focus, and beautiful.

Today has been...just one of those days.
And by those days I mean it has been just another day in this life that I'm trying to figure out and live in the moment of.

I went to the gym, found out I lost a pound, came home and ate 1/4 of my breakfast that turned out to be off. I just chalked that up to less calories and more weight off, but then I was hungry, so Hubs and I had a baguette and cheese for lunch and it was delicious.

Then I took a nap and slept for an hour, but it felt like five and I could have slept all day. I've been so tired lately and I just cannot figure out why. All the paranoid pregnancy tests I've been taking have been coming back negative and I'm exercising and drinking lots of water so it is not making sense to me.
Maybe it's still just being a mom.

I'm cooking toads-in-the-hole and roast potatoes tonight and I feel like I've finally succumbed to the English diet. Oil, bland palates, and potatoes. I mean, it tastes good and it fills you up, but there's just a little bit of American in me that dies every time I mix up a batch of Bisto.

There are words to be written, and bathrooms to be cleaned, and things to be sorted, and to-do lists to cross off and I just can't bring myself to do any of it.
That seems to be another one of the recurring themes around here--my inability to "get it together" and actually get things done.
I wonder if I'll ever actually grow up and be the responsible adult that I'm supposed to be.

--linking up with just write.

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mondays.

"Oh hey mom. Get it together."

"I've got a bad case of the Mondays."

That phrase sounds so oldy-person to me, but I'm feeling it today.

I think it's because this weekend was so full, and I'm feeling so weighted down with all of the things that I've got to finish this week--preferably sooner rather than later.

And being a mom is such a weird job, because your work is never done--I mean, how do you look at a day and say, "Yes, I successfully taught/disciplined/directed/respected/loved my child enough today. The quota was met, the job was well done."
You can't really, because there's never too much of any of that stuff.
Which is kind of hard for me, because I like gold stars, and checklists, and crossing things off.

I think that sometimes I just need to cut myself some slack, and get off my high-horse of importance.
--the world doesn't revolve around me, so it's not going to fall apart if I fall behind a little.
Which is nice, but also kind of a shot to your ego, if you think about it too much.

Anyway.
I'm tired. Hubs is tired.
There's a bottle of wine chilling in my fridge and fancy cheese that Hubs surprised me with yesterday, and brain candy waiting on the DVR.

I think it's time to call it a night.

--linking up with  The Naptime Review

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dear [blank]

dear English weather: thank you for cooperating and allowing me and my family to spend some time outside the past two days. Having some Vitamin D production kick up in my body has been amazing.

dear Jameson: I just love you, bubba. Your four top teeth are solidly in and you got your first big bonk the other day. You were such a trooper though, crying for a minute and then chewing on the ice pack we tried to put on your head. You're my boy, and I am so proud to be your momma.

dear Olympics: It's nothing personal, but I'm just not into you this year. Maybe it has to do with Hubs recent obsession with every single sport you offer, or the fact that I missed the build-up around the American athletes, but I just haven't caught the spirit. Sigh. Maybe the trip to London tomorrow will help.

dear Hubs: Thanks for being you. You're my best friend, and I know I say it a lot, but it's true--you're the love of my life and I just wouldn't make it without you.

dear America: I miss you. As usual. Stop making stupid decisions while I'm gone, okay? Thanks.

dear Self: Get it together and get to the gym. And get your work done. And stimulate your child. And clean the house. And stop trying to be so put-together all the time.

--linking up with The Wiegand's

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free flow.

I got a massage and a facial today.

It was a redeemed groupon that I'd bought a million years ago (it seemed like), and I finally got everything together so that Hubs could stay with Jameson and I could go off and pretend that I was a woman of means and I didn't have to count every single penny I spent that day.

And it was the strangest thing (since I've never had a massage before, and have literally dreamed of getting one for as long as I can remember), but as I was laying there I just kept having this thought of, "How on earth can you think you deserve this? This is so indulgent. You should not have bought this--this money would have been better spent elsewhere." I was fighting to make my brain and my body relax so that I could just enjoy this time, this hour of silence and quiet and indulgence. And it was hard.

And I still can't figure out why.

--linking up with just write.

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saving my life.

Chicago.

the sun has been my salvation and brought deep happiness and satisfaction to my life for the last three days. finally.

my other son is always an essential part of saving my life and keeping me buckled to reality. he is my sunshine, my joy, my wonder and there are many times that I think I would have stopped living if he wasn't here.

the promise of our first family-of-three vacation that is going to be happening in two months is saving my life. planning out the sights we're going to see and the hotels we're going to stay at and the food we're going to be eating--right now, Germany and Austria are keeping me going.

as always, my husband is ever saving my life. he makes me laugh, and roll my eyes, and smile. he is my constant companion, my best friend, and my soulmate.

"be still and know that I am God." [psalm 46:10]
these words are the lifeline right now.
-the only promise that I am able to cling to as the storms weather on.
-the only action I am able to take as the beating continues.
-the only thing I am able to meditate on as the doubt creeps in.

still. know. God.

-linking up with Sarah Bessey

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swirling around.

South bank, London.
Nov. 2010.

I've got a lot of things just spinning around in my brain today.

I wanted to have the rest of the posts for this week planned out and scheduled, and yet here I sit at 9:45 pm on Thursday night trying to spit something out so that I can keep the traffic up.

Blogging as a business is kind of a weird betrayal for me. I kind of feel like I'm selling out, but even that's not really accurate, since I'd have to be making money for this to even be "selling".
That's not to say that's not the goal, but for now it's simply a "hobby" that I'm cramming in to the free time that I don't have in order to maybe get a promise that is being loftily held above my head.

Sometimes it all just feels like a lot of work for little return, and I wonder if it's a worthy pursuit of my time.
But I like it, and sometimes I feel like I'm good at it, even if I'm still finding my voice and trying to make it a priority. (You don't want to know what doesn't get done in order to make sure that something shows up in this space. But it's usually a clean bathroom. Or clean clothes. Or a clean me.)

I guess I just have to remember that I'm only human at the end of the day.
That, and the Perfect Christian Wife image that's imprinted on to my brain is not actually an accurate picture, but rather an impossible one.
Things are going to slip, and that's just how it's going to be.

People are messy, myself included.
We don't come in pretty packages, complete with designer house and optimal wardrobe.
Even though admitting that is less-than-ideal, it's the truth.

And that's what I want more than anything.
The truth.

Talk to me about your life. Your mess. Your truth.

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if you really knew me...

One of the first times I made him laugh.

You'd know that  I could eat an entire box of strawberries in one sitting. And probably go back for more.


You would also know that I care about people, sometimes a little too much. It's a blessing and a curse.


You'd know that I'd rather be truthful about where I'm at and have you think less of me, than put on a song-and-dance to impress you. And I hope you would know that all I want is for the world to be a little more real.


You would know that I think motherhood is the best, hardest, most wonderful, and most difficult thing I've ever done. And that I am faking my way through it 99% of the time.

You would know that I have a serious passion for young marriages and helping them succeed...I would love to start a ministry for young married couples one day. There is so much confusion and passion and emotion in the early stages, and I wish I'd had somewhere to go to ask for help (and to be reassured that everything we were dealing with was, in fact, normal).

You would know that often I feel stuck somewhere in between a little girl and an old woman--and that it's been this way for a long time.

You would know that I need sunshine to survive like I need air to breathe. But you would also know just how much stronger I've become by moving to a place that doesn't have any.

You would know that I love candles that smell delicious, and if my house doesn't smell good, I automatically equate it with being dirty.

You would also know that I am so organized on the inside, but sometimes I just don't have enough time or energy to translate that into my house--and it drives me absolutely bananas.

You would know that "depression" is still a sneaky resident in my brain, but I win the battle against him on most days. Most days.

You would know that in and underneath and through it all, I just want to be a woman after God's own heart. Someone He is proud of. Someone that you'll look at and know that she is in love with her Lord. And you'd also know that I feel like I fail at that most of the time.

--linking up with The Wiegand's

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words.

I bought a maxi dress for £10 today.
It was money we don't really have, but it gave me the hope of a summer and the feeling of caring about what I looked like for a half an hour, so it was probably worth it.
___________________

I have got to break out of this funk.

I've lost the eloquence and elegance I once possessed.
Right now I'm working out of a desperate attempt to grab what I used to have, and it's strange...my entire life has been spent pining for the future, for the day when I "arrive". But now, I'm pining for the past. I lay in bed at night, and close my eyes, and do my best to recreate where I used to be, the sights and sounds and smells of it all, and it helps me sleep, and escape the place that I am in.

(Wow, cause that didn't sound depressed and sad AT ALL.)

I wonder what it means that all of my dreams have sunlight in them, and that when I dream about the future (which is rare, because it's not really worth it anymore), the biggest thing I notice is the sunshine streaming through my imaginary windows, and the t-shirt I am wearing because it's warm.

(This isn't even coherent anymore).
_____________________

It's a struggle here, to be honest.
It's a struggle in every facet of my life--
being a mom
being a wife
being a follower of Christ
and everything in between.

I had a thought the other day, after my mom wrote me a letter reminding me that I will never be enough for Jameson, and that I was never meant to be. I was meant to fail him, because he needs to find Christ through my failures. My inadequacies should lead him right back to the God that loves him even more than I do, and the cracks in my human self should be the place that Christ shines through.

I keep trying to tell myself that, night after night of trying to get him to go to sleep and sobbing because I just feel like I've done everything wrong.
_____________________

Sometimes I go through these periods of deciding to be a "real" writer, and cleaning my act up: writing things with thought and flow that make sense and sound nice.
And then I always stumble back into the raw, messy part where I vomit words onto a page and it's all for me, because I just can't write for you anymore.
I don't even know who you are, so how am I supposed to know what you want?

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